WATCH: Ben Danaher, “My Father’s Blood”

Artist: Ben Danaher
Hometown: Huffman, Texas
Song: “My Father’s Blood”
Album: Still Feel Lucky
Release Date: September 7, 2018

In Their Words: “Growing up with a father as a songwriter meant a lot of things to me. It meant that I had a strong-willed example to follow. Someone who defied social norm, [didn’t] get a 9-5 job and settle for that lifestyle. It might have meant that we grew up poor, but the wealth in living free and happy overshadowed that. We grew up in a house with musical instruments everywhere and both of my brothers played as well. My dad played every night club, festival, restaurant, and nursing home that would let him set his stuff up. He was fearless. Which is amazing because as a songwriter I have learned that rejection and disappointment can be as common as breathing.

The thing I admired the most about my dad, was that despite never getting another artist to record his songs, or having a big gold record, he was writing songs up until the last week of his life. That was a pretty eye-opening realization. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. There wasn’t a chance to even record them himself. He just did it because he loved it. I feel very lucky to get to step in front of a microphone and sing songs to strangers that I have made up about things I have lived, and am very grateful that people listen or clap or cry, but if I never get a chance to do any more than I have done in this business today, I hope I maintain his persistence and pureness for writing.” — Ben Danaher


Photo credit: Ryan Nolan

LISTEN: Courtney Hartman & Taylor Ashton, “Better”

Artist: Courtney Hartman & Taylor Ashton
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Song: “Better”
Album: Been on Your Side
Release Date: August 31, 2018
Label: Free Dirt Records

In Their Words: “Courtney and I and about 25 other songwriter friends around the world had an email thread going last year where we had a weekly deadline to send in a new song, as an exercise in mutual encouragement to keep in the practice of writing. One week I forgot about it until 1 a.m. on the night of the deadline, and even though I had a gig at 9 a.m. the next morning, I spent a couple hours with my banjo and “Better” came to me. It took a second to arrive at the first line and the rest all sort of fell into place. At some times in my life I’ve been attracted to the idea that you can’t force inspiration, and that it chooses when to strike. But this is an example of a time where if I hadn’t been holding myself to some arbitrary deadline I would definitely have just fallen asleep and never written this song.

The voice in the song is sort of an amalgam of myself and of a lot of people in my life so it feels good to sing it with Courtney — it brings it into a cool middle ground for me, between a specific personal sentiment and a more universal one. And to me it feels good to sing about your personal flaws in harmony with somebody else. I think the chorus is something we all want to cry out at certain times in our lives.” — Taylor Ashton

 


Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

Jason Eady: Down to a Single Point

There are two songs about dying on Jason Eady’s new I Travel On, but he insists this isn’t a downer album. Neither the contented “Happy Man” nor the rambunctious “Pretty When I Die” flinch as they depict the end of life, but Eady says the songs “put a positive spin on it. I think they’re both very positive songs. Live life to the fullest. Leave it all on the table when you go.”

Positivity was the conscious theme of the Fort Worth-based singer-songwriter’s seventh record, yet these songs aren’t naïve or blindly, blandly uplifting. What makes I Travel On so poignant and so memorable is Eady’s willingness to look something like death right in the face and find that silver lining. “It’s going to happen to everybody, so why not talk about it? It doesn’t have to be this unspoken thing that’s sad and depressing. Life is life and death is just a part of it. That shouldn’t be ignored.”

It helps that those two songs, along with every other one on the album, are expertly and even jubilantly picked and strummed and bowed and plucked and sung by Eady’s road-hardened touring band, with special guests Rob Ickes and Trey Hensley. “This album,” Eady explains, “is very specific to our last year. We traveled so much during that time, and we listened to Rob and Trey’s two records, which were a big part of our lives at that time. So it seemed like the perfect thing to call them up and see if they wanted to be on the record. These two guys were with us out on the road, even if they didn’t know it.”

Just as Eady writes within the parameters of positivity on I Travel On, the band played only acoustic instruments: guitars, bass, drums, Dobro. Their limited arsenal forced them to be more creative, to find new ways to use their instruments. As a result, the playing on these songs is somehow both loose and tight, technically precise yet lively, focused but eclectic. “We all sat down, miked everything up, and just went for it. There are no punches, no overdubs, nothing. When you hear something on the record, that’s what happened.”

The record is a document of getting lost out in America, gauging the climate of the country touring out-of-the-way places like Calaveras County, California, which gets its own song. It’s about finding silver linings in the gray clouds overhead. It’s about traveling on. And it has one of the finest album covers of the year: an evocative and psychedelic image that was one of many subjects he discussed with the Bluegrass Situation.

First of all, can you tell me about “Calaveras County”? What about that place inspired you to write that song?

That song is a mixture of some things that happened last year and another thing from my childhood that I always wanted to get into a song. We played a festival there last summer, which was the first time I had been there. I fell in love with the place. We were touring up the California coast, and every place was blazing hot. But it was breezy and nice and the weather was beautiful. The people were great. We had a chance to catch our breath and relax. The night before the show we had a big bluegrass jam. When we were leaving, it just struck me how awesome the place was.

Of course, the name Calaveras County doesn’t hurt. It just sounds good. I wrote the song when I got off the road. I can’t really write much on the road, so I just collect notes and thoughts. When I get home, I sort it all out. And the first thing I did after that tour was sit down and write that song.

What’s the other story? The one from your childhood?

There’s a verse about the man in the multicolored Volkswagen bug. That’s a true story from my childhood. I was maybe 6 or 7 and my dad was driving us through the Mojave Desert. We had run out of gas, and it was thirty miles to the next gas station. This was before cell phones, not that cell phones would have done us any good out there. So my dad had to hitchhike to get gas, while we sat in the pickup on the side of the road. People just kept flying by him and flying by him.

The guy who finally stopped was an old hippie who looked like Santa Claus. He was driving a Volkswagen bug and every single panel on the car was a different color. He gave my dad a ride into town, and then he gave him a ride back and wouldn’t take any money for gas. This guy goes sixty miles out of his way just to get us a tank of gas! That always stuck with me. My dad called me the other day and told me he couldn’t believe that I actually remembered that story.

How could you forget something like that?

It was my first experience of not judging people on appearances. This guy was nothing but helpful. Completely selfless. I’ve always wanted to get him into a song. I tried before to find ways to mention that story, but it never fit until now. It just went with the spirit of “Calaveras County.” The people up there had a similar spirit to them: Anything you needed, they would run into town to get it. They would do anything to make sure you enjoyed your stay in their town. The song fell into place pretty quickly.

I get the sense that most of these songs were written pretty quickly.

I did something this time around that was pretty terrifying. We booked the studio before I had the songs. So I gave myself a deadline to write this record. We got off the road in October, then we went into the studio in December. I wrote them all in those two months in between. It was a challenge, but I’ll tell you what I love about it: This is a very intentional album. These songs were all written in the same space, so it makes for a very cohesive record. I didn’t have to just take the best twelve songs I’d written in the last two years. Everything was written to be on this record.

A lot of the songs relate to things we did over the last year. I didn’t realize that until later. I called it I Travel On because that’s what we did. That’s where the spirit of the record comes from, and I think every song is about getting from one place to another, whether it’s physically traveling or mentally shifting ideas. “Always a Woman” is a good example. It starts off very tongue-in-cheek, very dark, but by the end of the song you’ve traveled from that idea to a very different idea. You’re using the same words but putting a positive spin on them. You move from one position to another in that song.

It inverts the country convention of the woman doing wrong to a man.

Well, I didn’t want to be negative on this record. That’s not where I’m at in my life, and the world doesn’t need any more of that right now. I wanted this to be a positive record. With that song, I didn’t know where it was going after that first verse, but I knew I wanted to take it somewhere different. I didn’t want it to be a dark song, so I had to find some way out of that.

You’ve mentioned that you recorded these songs completely live in one take, with no overdubs. Was that a difficult process? Were there any songs that proved especially hard to get through?

“Always a Woman” for sure. It’s a one-chord song, and I knew when I wrote it that it was going to be tricky. How do you make a one-chord song interesting for four minutes? I just do the same picking pattern for four minutes. Who wants to hear that? For that reason it was the last song we recorded. It was a daunting thing, but I think they all did an unbelievable job of finding ways to change it from verse to verse and add dynamics. Kevin Foster on fiddle did these things where he muted the strings but still rubbed the bow against them. Rob Ickes did something similar on Dobro. It sounds like a distorted electric guitar. I think some people just assume that’s what it is, but it’s all acoustic. I think everybody thrived under that constraint. It made us all more creative.

Way off topic, but this is one of my favorite album covers of the year. What can you tell me about that image?

It’s one of my favorite things I’ve done since I’ve been working in music. For years I had this concept, but I’m not a visually creative person. I can barely draw a stick figure. But I had this idea and I took it to a couple of graphic artists. It’s this universal concept: Everything starts from many, then filters down to a single point, then explodes back out to many again.

You’re going to have to elaborate for me.

Genetics is an example. It took an infinite number of people to get to me being here right now, and from here I’ll have offspring who’ll have offspring and it multiples back out. Events are the same way. All of these events in the history of everything have made this conversation we’re having right now possible, and then from this conversation will come other things that will spread back out. It’s a universal idea. It applies to everything.

But the only visual idea I could come up with was an hourglass, which I didn’t want it to be. But then Casey Pierce, who did the video for “Why I Left Atlanta” and documented the sessions for I Travel On, he’s a graphic artist and his work is very abstract. That’s exactly what I was looking for. I explained the concept to him and what you see on the cover is his first draft. As soon as I opened the email, I couldn’t believe it. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. He got it all. He got the vagueness of it.

It’s very different from your typical country album cover.

Yes, but Casey made it look like a road, like you’re going down the road and these clouds are in front of you. The road is disappearing into the horizon, which goes along with the title of the record. That’s the beauty of what he did. There’s a lot going on inside of it. It’s art.


Photo credit: Scott Morgan

BGS 5+5: Kendl Winter

Artist: Kendl Winter
Hometown: Olympia, Washington
Latest album: Stumbler’s Business
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Cub, Tindl

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Probably Gillian Welch most honestly. She’s a current songwriter that writes these tunes that feel ageless and they have wings and legs that draw other songwriters to sing them and they end up around campfires and get passed around outside of just the recordings. I love the harmonies that Dave Rawlings brings to the sound and the beautiful dissonance that his solos bring. She’s definitely inspired me to try to write songs that have that kind of agelessness to them. But then again I did mention Two-Buck Chuck and taco trucks in my last record so it’s not a rule, just kind of a wishing…

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I think it was singing my torah portion at my bat mitzvah in Arkansas and seeing my great uncle cry and thinking, whoa, music is powerful. I want to do that!

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

Probably now, it’s almost like writing songs is harder now that I’ve written ones that I like or that people have responded to. I think having too much of an expectation about how a song should be makes it much more difficult to try to write one. I like the child’s mind way of trying to approach songwriting, but it’s definitely harder having already written a bunch and trying not to write the same songs over and over.

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

Usually I try to do a handstand or something before the show and get some blood to my head. That and a little whiskey…

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I love being in the woods or up and over mountains or by water, any water. I spend a lot of time trail running, or backpacking and foraging for berries or edible mushrooms and camping with my friends. I feel like the solitude of nature or just the sounds away from the cities is necessary for reflection. I feel the most myself out there.


Photo credit: Erica Keeling

BGS 5+5: Adam Wright

Artist: Adam Wright
Hometown: Newnan, Georgia / Nashville, Tennessee
Latest Album: Dust

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

Whatever I’m reading at the moment usually has some impact on what I’m writing. Especially if it’s a writer that is new to me. If it’s good, it’ll spark a lot of little ideas. They’re not usually directly related to the book, but it will just get the ideas coming. Reading good writing is good for creativity. I don’t feel the same about movies. I enjoy them, but they don’t spark ideas for me the way reading does.

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

It’s really fun to work hard on a song you know is going to be good. And it’s not hard work to write a bad song that you know is bad. The real drudgery is working on a mediocre song. You have to use all your tools as though you were writing something good, but they don’t work the same and you know the result is going to be lackluster. It’s draining. I try not to get into that situation. I don’t like to settle in to the work unless I think I can land something worthwhile. Sometimes in a co-write you don’t have that luxury. You just have to push on and get it done.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I want to have contributed to the elevation of the art of songwriting. I want to entertain people. I want to be the best singer-songwriter I can possibly be. And I also want to make a decent living. Because without the means, you can’t give it everything you’ve got. And being your best means giving it everything you’ve got.

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

Mexican food, particularly huevos rancheros, is kind of a hobby of mine. There is a place close to where we live that plays great Mexican music. A lot of ’60s Latin pop. Some Mariachi. It’s always good. You’d have to work pretty hard at it to not feel good when you’re eating that food and hearing that music. We went to a newer Mexican place for my birthday not long ago, and it had marble floors and chandeliers and they were playing the shiniest, slickest, newest, American pop music. The food was good but the vibe was so wrong that it ruined the experience. We all ate as fast as we could and got out.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I write quite a bit in character. It’s a lot more fun for me. I’ve never been much of a “confessional” songwriter. I’m much more interested in what someone else might do in a situation. I like to tell stories. I like to drop in on a particular moment in the life of a character and write there. Some of my favorite songwriters do that. And not just folk-song writers. Chuck Berry was a fantastic storyteller. And he made it rock and roll. Even as a kid when I listened to his songs, I didn’t have the impression that he was singing about his life. I had the impression that he was a clever writer and he was entertaining me. “Born To Dream” is probably the only song on the new album that is written from my perspective. And “The Banker,” I guess, but it’s not really about me. Shannon, my wife, says “Born To Dream” is the most Adam song on there.

https://open.spotify.com/user/adamwrightofficial/playlist/4ynVBSEIlt81if2t7sTZ8p?si=uDUH1sE4TcuaB_Ta0Zykww


Photo credit: Bret Pemelton

Dawes’ Taylor Goldsmith, The Over-Sharing Songwriter

Taylor Goldsmith is done trying to be cool.

“I feel like there’s an aversion to sentimentality in 2018,” the Dawes frontman (pictured far right) says from his home in Los Angeles. “And I think for a long time I wanted to try to figure out a way to play by those rules. I would write the songs in a certain way; I would maybe even carry myself onstage in a certain way because I was aware of that fact. There was a coolness that had always been there I guess to varying degrees, but I feel like now more than ever it’s important that if you’re a guy in a band, you have to not mean what you say, not know what it means, you have to kind of keep your ballcap pulled down as far as it can go and just kind of recede into the shadows of coolness. And as time goes on and when I feel most myself, I find that just not who I am, and I’m never gonna be.”

That self-awareness is evident on Passwords, the band’s sixth record. It’s an outward-looking album, one that deals with modern themes ranging from the current political climate to social media’s effect on our lives, but it also sees Goldsmith stretching his wings as a songwriter by both pushing himself out of his comfort zone and leaning in to an emotionality that has always been a part of Dawes’ oeuvre.

Case in point: the lovely “Never Gonna Say Goodbye,” written for his fiancée, the actress Mandy Moore. That song poured out of him one night while he was on tour in Detroit. (“Songs typically don’t come out that fast for me,” he says. “They take a good month or two sometimes.”) It was meant as a private “I miss you,” and Goldsmith never intended for it to be heard by anyone besides Moore until she and his brother Griffin convinced him it belonged on the record.

“The main thing [I struggled with] really was the sort of lover’s language that’s really nobody’s business, like the way anyone speaks to the person they’re with when they’re going to bed at night or waking up in the morning or the way they look at each other,” Goldsmith says. “That is the most sacred, private world that I would never dream of wanting any access to. So for me, I was like, ‘Man, this is a very vulnerable moment for me, to say “I love you and I miss you.”‘ It was just a quick thing and I didn’t really want everyone to be eavesdropping, you know? But that ended up being what I liked about it. Because it was like, ‘Okay, what is art? What is music supposed to be other than sharing these personal attitudes that can resonate with someone else?'”

Producer Jonathan Wilson, who worked with the band on their first two records and reunited with them on Passwords, helped Goldsmith feel that he made the right choice about “Never Gonna Say Goodbye” when they got into the studio to record it.

“I was talking to Jonathan about it, and I was like ‘Is this song a little too…much?'” he explains. “I feel like we would all love it if Willie Nelson recorded it in 1973 maybe, but in 2018 is that acceptable now? And Jonathan was like, ‘That’s exactly why I like this song so much. That’s exactly why this should be on the record, because people don’t have the guts to go to this more vulnerable and intimate and earnest place.’ And so that’s something that I used to be scared of because I wanted to be this sort of obtuse artist that was impenetrable because that’s what I’ve always admired in songwriters, but the reality is I’m never gonna be that. The more I embrace what comes out naturally, the better it all feels.”

That approach helped him unlock the album’s themes; though Passwords is not a concept record, its songs share a commonality that make it feel cohesive and uniquely tethered to life in 2018. Goldsmith credits “Crack the Case,” a call for empathy in a time when our country is more divided than ever, with helping him find a direction for the rest of the album’s tracks.

“Oftentimes I find that the themes and ideas present themselves,” he says. “‘Most People’ and ‘Things Happen’ are pretty much about the same thing, and I think that’s pretty cool. I think that’s indicative of a certain attitude being consistent, or something that was really on my mind. Or when I listen to ‘Born to Run’ and ‘Thunder Road,’ one’s almost a continuation of the other, but it’s something that I love about those two songs and that time in Bruce Springsteen’s career, where ‘there’s a better world out there and get on my motorcycle and I’m gonna take you there.'”

He laughs. “In every Bruce Springsteen song, it becomes the identifying mark. It becomes the fingerprint. So with this album, after writing ‘Crack the Case’ and then all of a sudden writing ‘Living in the Future,’ in a way it’s like these songs are about the same thing. One of them comes from a much more paranoid place, but it’s still in the chorus like ‘we’re living in the future, so shine a little light.’ That line could be in ‘Crack the Case.’ So the way that certain songs would bleed into each other and kind of play different angles of the same conversation, that’s something I didn’t think about until it was all written.”

But his plea for entertaining other perspectives on “Crack the Case” isn’t just directed at others. As he gets older, he has challenged himself to get out of his own head and try writing more through the eyes of others, whether it’s the fear and resignation of “Stay Down” or the weariness of “Feed the Fire,” where he’s “working for attention I’ll eventually resent.” (“The song is in this mode of ‘I,’ it’s in first person, but it’s not representative of how I feel,” he says.)

“I think that as time goes on, like anything, anyone who does anything for a living, there become things where you feel like, ‘Cool, I did that and I don’t want to do it anymore because I know how to do it now. I wanna do something that I don’t know how to do,'” he explains. “And for a long time certain approaches to songwriting or to song structures became what I would go back to because that’s what I wanted to learn how to do, especially like ‘Coming Back to a Man’ or ‘That Western Skyline,’ songs that I’m very proud of but also songs that were sort of building blocks for me to take those concepts and then follow into the way I speak as an adult rather than a young guy looking to be a songwriter. There’s a lot of talk of like sunsets and mountains and rivers on our first few records.”

He laughs before continuing, “It is very songwriterly. And that’s because I was learning the language, and as time has gone on, I’ve been trying to figure out how to find the lyrical, find the song in something that otherwise wouldn’t seem like one, you know? When I wrote ‘From a Window Seat’ I was really excited, I was like, ‘This is a song about the weird, obscure metaphysical fear of flying, and it should be off-limits from a band like Dawes, but here it is.’ And I try to keep chasing that down, finding things that just seem like they’re not lyrical and they’re not up for discussing through song. But then more than that, the thing that’s important to me is trying to explore the difference—like when I listen to early music that I wrote, it’s a lot of just me, me, me.”

He adds, “And that’s still the case, and that’ll always be the case, but at the same time, I want to make sure I’m coming from a place where I can adopt attitudes that I don’t identify with….certain perspectives that are not my own, certain narratives that I’m not even a part of, that stuff I feel like is newer. That’s how my writing’s changed. I feel like it’s all as indicative to how I view the world as it ever has been, but trying to take it beyond ‘I love you and you love me, let’s not lose each other, blah blah blah.’

“Because that’s part of what it is to be in your early 20s, but now I look at these songwriters that have these long, rich careers, and a lot of it is because they know how to tackle concepts that are bigger than relationships, that are bigger than self-reflection. They might involve those qualities, but they reach for more ambitious concepts. And so that’s something that I try not to think about too much, but I know that when I sit down to write a song, if it’s going to motivate me to finish it, I want to feel like it’s terrain that I haven’t covered before.”

Even when he doesn’t necessarily agree with what he’s singing, there’s a certain sincerity at the heart of Goldsmith’s songs—perhaps stemming from his ability to place himself in someone else’s shoes sans judgment—that he’s learning to take pride in, no matter how unhip that makes him.

“There’s this coolness that exists right now, and when we come across people that stand up against it and just say how they feel and they don’t mind being emotionally available and earnest and clear and proud, it’s an inspiring attitude,” he says. “I mean, that can come from a person like Bruce Springsteen or it can come from a person like The Rock. His attitude and his sense of gratitude and the way he presents himself in this world, I think there’s something very deep and enlightened about it. He has transcended coolness, and that’s amazing because he’s not here to pretend like he’s some impenetrable artist. He’s not here to pretend like he doesn’t care. He definitely cares, and he’s definitely grateful, and he’s definitely proud, and if we all took a bit of a tip from that attitude towards life, I think it would actually edify us. It would motivate us.

“And so I think for me as a songwriter, after all this time of not knowing where I stood, like, ‘Well, how do I be the cool guy? How does David Bowie be David Bowie? How does Father John Misty be this kind of enigmatic Father John Misty?’ And the reality is that’s just who those people are. And I am the person talking to you right now; I’m the over-sharer. And me coming to terms with that has been kind of the best feeling I’ve had as a songwriter in a long time, like the more I embrace myself directly corresponds to how true I feel my music is. It should be a simple enough lesson to learn pretty early on, but it’s not. It’s really hard. There are few things harder than getting to know yourself and then committing to it. So if someone heard this new album and felt like ‘I’m more willing to be myself. I’m more willing to be open and earnest and share the way I feel,’ I dunno, it sounds cheesy saying it out loud, but I feel like if that were to be something that someone was left with, that would mean a lot.”



Photo credit: Magdalena Wosinska

Allowing Herself to Be Free: A Conversation with Erin Rae

Quiet may come off as meek, but don’t be fooled; strong doesn’t necessarily present in overly clamorous ways. That’s the central truth Erin Rae unearths on her new album Putting on Airs. Across twelve hushed tracks, her haunting voice depicts the ways in which the past looms over the present, especially how the scenes we witness as children build their own imposing edifices in the psyche. On the title track, she sings with bare-bones honesty, “I never did learn to like myself/ Been chasing down anyone that might could help/ Lure them in with charm, come out stealing.”

Putting on Airs is as much about calling out herself as exploring the circumstances that formed her, but through it all the Nashville-based songwriter’s honesty is manifested through her clear-eyed vocals and deft lyricism. She wants to heal, and her music, functioning like a salve, allows her to do exactly that. For example, on “Bad Mind,” she sings about a lesbian aunt who faced discrimination decades ago in the Alabama court system and how that, and other adolescent experiences, shaped the perception of her own sexuality.

Recorded in Appleton, Wisconsin, during winter’s muted apex, Erin Rae worked with co-producers Jerry Bernhardt and Dan Knobler to make full use of the space—a former Franciscan monastery known as The Refuge. As a result, the production lives, breathes, and echoes, giving her the room to use her voice, both literally and lyrically.

These songs are so tender, and that descriptor strikes me in two ways: Tender like a bruise, and tender as in full of care. When you were writing them, did one apply more than the other?

I think it’s a little bit of both. With “Putting on Airs” in particular, I was like, “Am I just being harsh on myself?” My mom’s Buddhist now, so I’m really [thinking] like, “Is this being kind? Is this causing harm?” It’s been helpful to me to own that behavior and, yeah, it is uncomfortable to feel the reality of that and the consequences of that and how it affects other people and myself. But also, by owning it and saying it, my hope is to continue to get more free from that. It’s a little bit of both: It’s tender temporarily.

How have you seen your songwriting shift on this album?

I guess I’ve always used songwriting to process through my own stuff; it’s been very cathartic for me. My last record was tying my own experience in with that of my parents or close friends. There’s still an element of that, but I feel like this record has become more directly about me. I didn’t really intend for these songs to be that, like “I’m going to call myself out.” “Putting on Airs” is about people-pleasing where it’s harmful to myself and other people, where eventually you just become dishonest in a way.

No kidding. That line, “Lure them in with charm, come out stealing,” got me right in the gut. It almost hurts to hear but it’s so true.

It’s like, “I want you to like me!”

It’s almost like a safety mechanism at first, but it’s interesting how you say it can become self-harming at a point.  

My dad is super outgoing. He’s one of those people who’s never met a stranger. That’s how I am as well, but learning in a way to make sure…especially as far as it goes with relationships. That’s really what I’m focusing on in that song.

Ok, we have to talk about “June Bug.” That transition to the old-timey piano at the two-minute mark is stunning. That riff says so much, and coming after all you’ve confessed, hangs even all the more beautifully.

At the Refuge up there in Appleton, there’s this giant chapel and all these monks’ quarters, 60 little individual bedrooms, and a lounge area on the first floor. It was in the middle of winter, it was still snowing, and the Fox River is right out the back. The room has a wall of windows, so you could see the snow and the bald eagles. There are two hallways, and in the center of that is where we had a lot of tracking stuff set up and the computer and all the gear. Then we ran guitar amps and put the drums in the chapel, so you hear that huge open sound. We tracked vocals in there so we had the room sound.

I have these fond memories of everyone being super sweet to each other. Basically, Jerry played everything. I think he had tracked that piano part and then Dan, when he was mixing everything, surprised Jerry by putting that into the end of the song, because the song otherwise would just be a minute and a half long. We had this beautiful piano track that Jerry had done in this space, and Dan surprised us with the old timey piano outro, and I thought Jerry was going to cry. It was really great.

I’m especially interested in the labels that circulate around Southern women. To that end, “Mississippi Queen” is such a striking song. How have you attempted to battle against the labels about who women should or shouldn’t be?

Nashville is like a blue spot surrounded by red. It’s a town full of creatives. I’ve got a family member that lives in Mississippi and my dad grew up in Missouri, but whenever you go back to more traditional Southern cities, it’s kind of like, “Oh yeah, people more or less adhere to these cultural norms that feel a little outdated to me.” But I’m always drawn to a sense of tradition. The only way I’ve known how to challenge anything is personally, like internally making sure that I’m clear.

That’s what a lot of this record’s about—allowing myself to be free to see what my own personal truth is, so that, hopefully, I’m able to lend that to others and give other people that space. Even in thinking that that’s a way I want to live, it’s still difficult. I empathize with people that have grown up in a more traditional city; I feel like it takes a conscious effort to grow up and be open-minded if it’s not the norm.

Right, if it’s not modeled for you it’s even harder to practice.

My parents are super open-minded and I still grew up in the South and absorbed a lot of the social norms, so I can’t imagine how hard it is for someone else [who didn’t] to feel free enough. With a more conservative or strictly religious background, it’s hard work for everybody to be more open-minded.

The past six months have been fruitful for singer-songwriters wishing to challenge heteronormativity, including projects from H.C. McEntire and Sarah Shook. Why do you think now is such a powerful moment for such visibility?

So much progress that had been made was starting to feel uncertain with this new administration. It kind of worked out to be a timely thing, especially with the song “Bad Mind,” and that story being born out of the state of Alabama. When Roy Moore was almost elected, I was like, “It’s all happening in the same time.” I think it’s so important to keep the conversation going and make opportunities to heal around this stuff, around sexuality, while it’s all being threatened.

It does feel like a backlash, similar to what took place in the ‘80s after women had made significant strides in the ‘70s.

Music helps us process. One image that came to mind while you were talking about a backlash is the Women’s March—the second one that happened recently in Nashville. It ended with a big concert at Bicentennial Mall, and Alanna Royale and Becca Mancari were both performing there. Alanna has always represented real womanhood for me, being a strong and powerful woman. She’s full of life. It was this really beautiful moment to walk with all these people—dads, and little kids, and folks old and young—through Nashville, and then end up at this powerful, beautiful concert with people that I admire in our community. It was such a beautiful way to tie it all together.


Photo credit: Marcus Maddox

BGS 5+5: Skin & Bones

Artist: Skin & Bones
Hometown: Moorpark, California; Greensboro, North Carolina
Latest Album: Shadowboxing
Personal Nickname: Sweet mesquite Pete and the Carolina Heat

(Answers from singer/guitarist Taylor Borsuk)

What was the first moment you knew that you wanted to be a musician?

I was living with my girlfriend in Dresden, Germany, in winter. I was 19 years old and was addicted to writing songs. I hardly knew anyone there and couldn’t really speak much of the language. The isolation I experienced was really profound. It provided me with a very rare opportunity to consider what I wanted out of life. I made the decision then to put all my efforts into songs.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I tend to do this in most of my songs; however I don’t consider it hiding. I write about my own personal experiences and others around me, but at the same time I want the listener to be able to relate to the songs and stories in their own unique way. I’ve used “you” instead of “me” in an attempt to bridge that gap in the hopes that the song feels as if it could be about anyone. In all honesty, what the songs means to me doesn’t matter that much. I’m more interested in what it means to someone else.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

We were performing at The Deer Lodge in Ojai, California. I guess word had gotten around about our music and when we arrived the place was packed. People were singing along to the songs and it was one of those first ‘wow’ moments we experienced as a band. Great fun and we made a lot of new friends.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

This is such a toughie. I pull from a myriad of influences, but I think the artist that has had the biggest impact on me is Jackson Browne. As a child his music was always playing in my home and subconsciously it laid the foundation for my appreciation of songwriting. His work is timeless. It will be just as relevant in a hundred years from now as it was when he first wrote it. When I heard that he wrote the song “These Days” at age 16 it set the bar for me.

What is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Mexican food paired with the Mariachi radio station in a hole in the wall restaurant and I am a happy camper. Bring on the horns.


Photo courtesy of Skin & Bones

BGS 5+5: Elizabeth and the Catapult​

Artist:​ Elizabeth and the Catapult​
Hometown:​ Brooklyn, NY​
Latest Album:​ Keepsake
Personal Nickname: EZ (but never Liz or Lizzy!)

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

I get very nervous for some reason before every show, no matter how big or small, still to this day​.​ I do this thing in the bathroom before getting on stage where I kind of “shake it all out​.”​ Try to let all my bundled nerves let loose.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Work your ass off, but have fun. There’s no point in doing something that doesn’t bring you great joy​. Write your butt off and then, when it’s time to share, remember it’s about sharing, not just showing.

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

I once wrote a song that took two years to finish. I’d come back to it every couple months and completely rewrite both the lyrics and the music — same theme, same idea, completely different song. It ended up on my latest album (FINALLY). It’s called “Mea Culpa.”

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

I’d love to have some jambalaya or a giant sushi dinner with Stevie Wonder (two of my favorite meals).

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Favorite memory from being on stage was performing with my band at ​C​arnegie ​Hall as part of a Rufus Wain​w​right festival and taking a picture of the audience in the middle of a song.

Hangin’ & Sangin’: Lilly Hiatt

From the Bluegrass Situation and WMOT Roots Radio, it’s Hangin’ & Sangin’ with your host, BGS editor Kelly McCartney. Every week Hangin’ & Sangin’ offers up casual conversation and acoustic performances by some of your favorite roots artists. From bluegrass to folk, country, blues, and Americana, we stand at the intersection of modern roots music and old time traditions bringing you roots culture — redefined.

With me today at Hillbilly Central, Lilly Hiatt! Welcome!

Thank you!

 

Okay, Trinity Lane, your record, came out last summer. Let’s talk about songwriting, because I feel like this record is songwriting as a way to understand yourself, right? The record’s kind of overflowing with that.

Yes, it is that, definitely. [Laughs]

How much easier is it for you to dissect and process whatever you’re going through with writing versus talking it out or some other form?

Well, I think both are useful, but sometimes with writing — I think because you’re alone, or I’m alone when I write — sometimes things will come out that maybe are a little buried down or you didn’t know were there, and you’re like, “Hmm, alright!” And so that’s kind of the fun part about that. It’s kind of like the guard is really down there.

How often does something come through that you didn’t even necessarily know was there and then, afterward, you’re like, “Oh, huh, okay, that’s how I feel about that!”

Yeah, I mean that happens a lot! It happened the other day, when I was playing around, and sometimes it’s a little startling, but usually it’s really relieving, like “Oh, gosh!” It happens a lot.

I love it, sometimes when I’ve got stuff swirling around — this just happened recently, too — the only way I can think to express it is to just start writing it in a weird free-form poem, whatever kind of thing. The words don’t necessarily even have to make sense if someone else were to read it, but it can express. And then, when you add on a melody, which I don’t do because I’m not a songwriter, then that enhances it that much further because the music can take it in a whole other direction.

Yeah, totally, it’s an exciting thing to do. And I think it’s a useful tool to write things down, for anyone really. Because sometimes you really don’t understand things, when they’re just swirling around in your head, and maybe you don’t understand them on paper, but it’s a document of that moment and how you were perceiving it then. And, if that changes later, it may, but it’s interesting.

Before we started the show we were talking about our mutual friend Amanda Shires. She recently challenged me — she owes me breakfast, by the way — she uses an app called Flowstate, wherein you set a timer for either five or 10 minutes or whatever, and you just write. And if you stop for five seconds before your time ends, it erases everything you did. So you have to keep going!

You just go! That’s cool!

The first time I did it, I had about nine seconds left out of the whole thing, and I saw a typo that I wanted to go back and fix, and [it deleted everything], it was just a blank cursor!

And you just lost it! Well, that’s really cool. I’m a big fan of the let-it-flow method, myself. You can always go back and edit, but sometimes what comes out is what needs to. And Amanda’s a cool writer. She is a true writer, and she disciplines herself even though it comes from her heart, and I think there’s a lot to be said for that, too, you know, just taking the time to freestyle! Whatever!

If you had to define what your job is, as a songwriter, what would you say it is, in terms of the parameters or responsibilities?

That’s a good question, and I’ve heard a couple writers who I admire talk about what they think that responsibility is, and I try not to take it too seriously as in “I have a real something to say that you need to hear!” But, I do think, if you have a way with words and you have a strong suit in one way or another, whether that’s painting a picture or being introspective, then maybe there is a service in that, of connecting with people. The things I write about are really mundane, like breakups and stuff that everyone deals with — pretty simple stuff. But if you can just kind of nuance it in a way that strikes a chord with others, it can be powerful, and it’s powerful for me to share that stuff with other people.

Have you figured out ways for yourself to block out the outside opinions and trends and not let them sway you? Just say, “This is my truth and this is what I’m gonna say and how I’m gonna say it”?

Yeah, I have, and I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older and more confident in myself. But I mean, still, of course you care what other people think, but I care more about making music that I feel good about … whatever that means. So it’s not to pander to any one way or another or any group. You know, sometimes you have to tune it out. And nobody really expects that much from you! I think we get more in our heads, it’s like, “Just write stuff!” Whatever! [Laughs]

If it lands, it lands!

Yeah, exactly. It’s fulfilling to write things.

Let’s get a little granular on your song “Different, I Guess,” because it’s a fascinating piece to me, for a number of reasons, and Amanda, among others, say it’s one of the best songs they’ve ever heard.

That’s nice.

But structurally on that, it starts out just kind of cruising along, and then it sort of flails a little bit, and then it goes back. On a scale of 1-10, how much do rules matter to you?

They don’t really.

Okay, so on a scale of 0-10 … [Laughs]

I mean, maybe we’ll give them a 1 or 2. Sometimes I’m like, “Hmm, you can’t do that,” but then I’m like, “Oh yes, you can!” And that song was actually kind of the beginning of a foray into … it’s funny because I think somewhere in the back of my head I followed, not one particular structure, but I disciplined myself with getting a good form for a song. And I was like, “You can do whatever you want in that song, say whatever you want!”

You don’t have to have a chorus, you don’t have to have a bridge …

Yeah, exactly! Because I think of some of my favorite songs, and they don’t have those things. They’re not “perfect” — whatever that means. So that one was fun. It just kind of spilled out, and I was like, “I’m not changing anything!” [Laughs]

Take that, world!” Lyrically, too, it’s so raw and real, but it’s still painted with poetry. I love the line, “I don’t have to have you to know what this is.”

Thank you.

Because, in the end, it’s about how we’re responding to something. It’s often not about “that” — whether it’s a person or a situation or whatever. It’s what’s going on inside of us. So “that” doesn’t even have to be there for the work to be going on [inside of us].

It’s true. I think, when we love things, we want to possess them a lot of the time.

Funny that, eh?

It is funny! Ultimately, it’s not how that works, you know? But I don’t know. [Laughs] Every love is different!

And the other line, “No one’s really been at their best” … One of my life’s mottos for the past few years has been trying to be my best in any given moment so that I don’t have to have remorse or regret, or second-guess myself if I’d made the best choice. And what’s funny is that that is sort of echoed in that, too, even though you say, “No one’s really been at their best,” that sentiment is still in there and that’s fascinating to me.

Thank you. Well, I appreciate your insight into that song. It’s cool hearing people’s take on things, you know? And yeah, “at your best” … I don’t know! [Laughs]

Which at any given moment is [high or low]. [Laughs]

But I know what you mean, where you just want to know you gave it what you had.

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