Tag: string band

Bluegrass Memoirs: The Earl Scruggs Revue Beginnings

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Nearly 50 years after the Earl Scruggs Revue concert I saw at the University of Maine, an internet search led me to Jaime Michaels of the opening act, Beckett. He still has vivid memories from that night in Orono. I sent him a copy of my report. He wrote back, saying:

I have no idea about the song titles but it was nice that my ’63 Gibson J50 got a mention … I still have it.

He has vivid memories of his time backstage with Scruggs.

… at the very end of Earl’s set as he walked back out for his 3rd or 4th encore he stopped and said to me “If I’d just play the darned thing right, I wouldn’t have to keep going back out …”

A little later as we were all loading out Earl came up to us and said, “Do you guys want to see my new bus?” He took us for the grand tour. I was still pretty young and had never seen a real tour bus before.

He was such a sweet guy with this humble self-effacing humor.

Earl was proud of that bus, I reckon; he’d named an instrumental after it.

When I saw them in 1975, the Earl Scruggs Revue was a polished Nashville rock act that had been together since 1969. Debuting at a folk festival that May, not long after Scruggs split from Lester Flatt, it featured Earl’s sons.

The two oldest, Gary (then 20) and Randy (then 16) were already Nashville recording studio veterans. They’d been in the Columbia studios multiple times (Gary 11 sessions, Randy 15 sessions) since May 1967, helping on the last three albums Lester and Earl made before their split (Changin’ Times, The Story of Bonnie & Clyde, Nashville Airplane).

Also new to Flatt & Scruggs, in the fall of 1967, was Columbia producer Bob Johnston, then 35. Concerned about declining record sales, Columbia had replaced Frank Jones and Don Law, highly regarded Nashville veterans who’d been producing F&S since the fifties, with Johnston, who was producing Bob Dylan.

Dylan had stunned the folk world when he went electric at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. He first recorded in Nashville in 1966, completing Blonde On Blonde there using mainly Nashville studio musicians. In the next two years he returned, making John Wesley Harding and Nashville Skyline.

Flatt & Scruggs’ final albums reflected their move to Johnston, a leading producer at forefront of Columbia’s move from acoustic folk into electric folk rock.

Later, when asked about what led to the split with Earl, Flatt spoke of his difficulty in singing the band’s new songs. “Johnston,” He said, “…also cut Bob Dylan and we would record what he would come up with, regardless of whether I liked it or not. I can’t sing Bob Dylan stuff. I mean, Columbia has got Bob Dylan, why did they want me?”

Of the final three F&S albums, both Changin’ Times and Nashville Airplane had folk-rock repertoires. At the very first session for Changin’ Times, four folk-rock favorites were cut, three Dylan hits, one by Ian Tyson: “Don’t Think Twice,” “Four Strong Winds,” “Blowin’ In the Wind,” and “It Ain’t Me Babe.” Here, Earl’s boys Gary (singing) and Randy (lead guitar) were together for the first time in the studio with Flatt & Scruggs and Johnston.

Imagine the dismay of Lester (who, soon after splitting with Earl, would record “I Can’t Tell The Boys from the Girls“) at this session! It seemed as if the young longhairs with their strange new music were taking over.

Released in January 1968, the back cover of Changin’ Times was filled with the image of a rock poster. Unsigned notes beside it read:

With their smash appearance at the Avalon Ballroom (a West Coast temple of rock and light-shows) when they turned on the whole of San Francisco, there are no new worlds left for Flatt and Scruggs to conquer. Flatt and Scruggs are for everyone.

One of the album’s 11 tracks was a remake of Earl’s “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” which had just become a hit through the soundtrack of Bonnie and Clyde. Five tracks were by Dylan; the album closed with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.”

Gary and Randy Scruggs personified the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Nashville Cats,” but also in the studio for that album were other, older, Nashville cats – Charlie Daniels, Grady Martin, Bob Moore, Charlie McCoy and other A-team studio musicians. Randy and Gary would come to know these men well as they built life-long careers in the Nashville studios. These careers were forged during their years (1969-82) with the Earl Scruggs Revue.

Fortunately, the Revue’s earliest days were chronicled in a television documentary. David Hoffman’s ninety-minute NET TV special, Earl Scruggs: The Bluegrass Legend – Family and Friends, was recorded in 1969-70. It has been issued on DVD several times since then and can be seen on YouTube.

It’s fascinating to watch Hoffman’s documentation of Scruggs as he narrates his past, voices his present, and sets out his future directions. Along the way, Hoffman captures Earl’s music-making with a wide variety of performers and audiences. By the end of those 90 minutes, Scruggs’ cultural and political perspectives are manifest; likewise the breadth of his musical tastes.

Hoffman filmed in New York, North Carolina, Nashville, Washington, D.C., and California. The documentary opens with a five-minute jam session: Earl, Gary, and Randy are in upstate New York visiting Bob Dylan at the home of illustrator and sculptor Tom Allen, who had done many Flatt & Scruggs album covers. After Bob sings “East Virginia Blues,” Earl asks him if he’d like to hear their version of “Nashville Skyline Rag,” the instrumental title track from Dylan’s most recent album. I don’t know when this jam took place, but in mid-August of 1969, when Earl was in the studio with Lester to record Final Fling: One Last Time (Just For Kicks), an album they’d agreed to make after their split, the first track they recorded was “Nashville Skyline Rag.”

The tune became a fixture in the Revue concert repertoire, used, for example, as the show opener at Orono in 1975 and in 1977 when they played PBS’s Austin City Limits. Earl had recorded it again in 1970 for his first solo album, Nashville’s Rock.

After the jam with Dylan, the film’s next twenty minutes take the viewer with Earl and the boys to his North Carolina home with visits to the Morris Brothers (the first group he’d worked with), Doc Watson, and Scruggs family and friends in the Flint Hill community. It closes with a shot in which Earl speaks of how he’d taken the banjo to different types of music: “Now it’s easy to blend with today’s music. It works very well. I’m really happy. I had dreams of this.”

The next five minutes come from a jam session with the Byrds at a ranch outside Nashville. It begins with them doing “Nothing To It” (the title Earl used for “I Don’t Love Nobody,” when he recorded this tune with Doc Watson) followed by “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” a Dylan tune that was on the Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, the 1968 album that is often thought of as a foundational statement of country rock.

It’s followed by four minutes with electronic music pioneer and composer Gil Trythall, who plays along on Moog synthesizer with Earl and Randy doing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

Then comes an interview with Charlie Daniels, at the time an associate of Bob Johnston, soon to become one of country rock’s leading figures. The focus shifts as he, Earl, and the Revue attend the second Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam, held in Washington, D.C. on November 15, 1969 – generally considered to be the largest demonstration ever in Washington. After performing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” there, Earl speaks of his opposition to the war.

Back in Nashville, Daniels is co-producing (with Neil Wilburn) All The Way Home, the first Scruggs Brothers album, for the New England folk and classical label Vanguard. The film follows them into a Nashville studio.

Earl is also working on an album, his first post F&S solo project, Nashville’s Rock. After listening to a demo of one track at the Scruggs home, we see an old friend of Earl’s, Dr. Nat Winston, give testimony to his character, and then Earl demonstrates how he creates his music, explaining that he’s self-taught. Next, we meet Earl’s wife Louise, who’s worked as his manager for fifteen years. She points out that Earl was immersed in the music from age five and that their son Randy has had the same experience.

A shift of focus to Randy follows, as we see him picking “Black Mountain Rag” (a guitar performance reflecting the Scruggs affinity for Doc Watson), and then go with him to class at Madison High and have a chat with his principal, who talks about Randy’s “skipping school.”

After hearing from Louise about how she met Earl at the Grand Ole Opry, we drive on a spring afternoon (in 1970) with the Scruggs family from home to the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville. Inside, Earl, with Randy, joins Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys in a backstage dressing room for a jam and then we witness the Revue’s debut on the Opry stage.

In the center is Earl on banjo, flanked by Randy on guitar and Gary on bass and vocals. Also in the band is Jody Maphis, a contemporary of the Scruggs brothers and son of country stars Joe and Rose Maphis, on guitar. He would subsequently move to drums and remain in the Revue for about a decade. On piano and tambourine is Leah Jane Berinati. Except for Earl, this was a group of kids, dressed like young flower power types. They perform two very conservative old traditional songs, “Nine Pound Hammer” and “Reuben,” to an enthusiastically appreciative audience.

The last twenty-five minutes of the documentary follow the Scruggs family as they travel, early in 1970, to California’s Bay Area for a visit and a jam in Joan Baez’s home. Joan, with her young newborn son Gabriel nearby, chats with Earl about their 1959 meeting at the first Newport Folk Festival. She sings two songs (both are Dylan compositions) and then, while photos are shown of her husband – Gabriel’s father David Harris, whose Vietnam protests had led to federal imprisonment for draft refusal – she sings “If I Was A Carpenter” with Gary. A heady mix of politics and music.

The film closes with Earl back in North Carolina talking again about his musical aspirations:

Keep up with the times and make as much progress with the banjo along with other instruments as long as it blends in as possible.

As the credits roll, we hear Earl playing “Folsom Prison Blues” using his tuners.

This documentary, aired at the height of the Vietnam war, included a forthright statement of opposition from a leading figure in Nashville, where there was considerable support for the war. The documentary was also a carefully crafted showcase of the Revue’s folk/country rock repertoire, musical style, and cultural connections.

The albums that Earl and his two oldest sons were working on while Hoffman was making the documentary released before its broadcast and both contain songs and tunes that appear in the film. A couple of examples: “Train Number Forty-Five” (F&S’s radio theme in the early days), which is heard in Earl and Randy’s backstage jam with Bill Monroe, is also heard on Earl’s album Nashville’s Rock. Similarly, Randy’s version of “Black Mountain Rag,” an acoustic guitar solo in the documentary, is heard on the Scruggs Brothers’ album, All The Way Home, in an extended version with not only acoustic and electric guitar breaks but also a banjo break in his father’s style.

In the next Bluegrass Memoir we’ll see how, by 1971 and 1972 when this documentary was broadcast, the Earl Scruggs Revue was appearing on a series of albums that realized Earl’s aspirations and helped launch his touring.

(Editor’s Note: Read our prior Bluegrass Memoir on the Earl Scruggs Revue here.)

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee, and co-chair of the IBMA Foundation’s Arnold Shultz Fund.

Photo of Rosenberg by Terri Thomson Rosenberg. 

Edited by Justin Hiltner.

MIXTAPE: Walton Goggins’ Oldtone Music Festival Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We want to share some things that bring us joy. Oldtone Music Festival is an intimate roots music festival with camping and dancing that we’re happy to curate and support as producers. It takes place on a staggeringly beautiful hilltop on a working family farm in North Hillsdale, New York, about 90 miles away – and a world away — from New York City on September 5-8, 2024.

Oldtone gathers musicians and fans of many genres of traditional North American roots music, including old-time, bluegrass, Cajun, Zydeco, conjunto, honky-tonk, and so much more. This playlist gathers the best and brightest artists that are playing the 2024 festival. We’d love all roots music lovers to join us, but whether you can make it or not, you can get a taste here! – Walton Goggins, Executive Producer, and Trevor Roush, Executive Producer and General Manager, Oldtone Music Festival

“I’m Gone” – Kiki Cavazos

Kiki Cavazos is a very special songwriter from rural Montana who’s making her debut at this year’s festival. She rarely plays live – we mean, really, really rarely – so we’re excited to have her joining us for Oldtone! So many musicians have told us that they would have come to Oldtone just for the chance to see Kiki, even without the rest of the amazing lineup and beauty of the location.

“Less Honkin’ More Tonkin'” – The Deslondes

This will be The Deslondes’ second year playing the festival and this song is from their new live album, a taste of what you’ll hear when they rock the stage. They have spent the past year touring hard and opening for the likes of Margo Price and they will probably ask you for a dance when they are enjoying the other acts during the night

“Louisiana Aces Special” – Jesse Lege and the Southern Ramblers

Jesse Lege, “the greatest living Cajun dance accordion player,” is one of the pillars in traditional Cajun dance music and has played every single Oldtone festival since 2015. He’s not the youngest musician at the festival, but he plays hard for four hour stretches without a break – ‘til all the dancers collapse.

“High on the Mountain” – Sweet Megg

This year for the first time, alongside her captivating voice Sweet Megg is bringing her complete band to Oldtone. She’s also currently the vocalist of Cirque du Soleil.

“Love Me Like You Do” – Zach Bryson

On this track, the incomparable Zach Bryson of Nashville is backed up by what is essentially the Oldtone house band. And, it was recorded not too far from the farm by Oldtone staff member Donny Dinero.

“Forty Years of Trouble” – Danny Paisley & the Southern Grass

What can you say about Danny Paisley? Well, he was the 2016 International Bluegrass Association Male Vocalist of the Year. In other words, he is the real deal!

“To The Doves” – JP Harris

JP Harris is an icon in the Nashville honky-tonk scene and he’s been traversing the roads of America since 2007. JP, better known as “Squash” in old-time music circles, is the early front runner for “person who will have the most fun at Oldtone this year.”

“Ay te dejo en San Antonio (I Leave You in San Antonio)” – Los Texmaniacs

We’re thrilled to have the GRAMMY-winning conjunto band Los Texmaniacs joining us! Just this year, their frontman was inducted into the Conjunto Music Hall of Fame.

“One-step de Rôdailleur” – Jordan Thibodeaux et les Rôdailleurs

Jordan Thibodeaux et les Rôdailleurs and Cedric Watson are the new ambassadors of traditional Cajun culture. They’re also putting their own spin on it and bringing a new sound to Cajun music. This trio will also be cooking up a cajun meal for all the staff to enjoy during the fest!

“Valley By the Stream” – The Down Hill Strugglers

The Down Hill Strugglers were all proteges of the late, great John Cohen. This track is off their awesome new album of all original old-time songs. They have been a staple of Brooklyn’s Jalopy Theater for well over a decade.

“Stoned on a country song” – The Neon Moons

The Neon Moons are an amazing honky-tonk orchestra of 10 members based in the Hudson Valley, essentially our very own Oldtone house band. They truly embody the Hudson Valley a close-knit mix of folks who have grown up here, like Trevor, and transplants, like Walton, who have found a true home here.

“Reuben’s Train” – Foghorn Stringband

Foghorn Stringband are a very cool (and well-known) four-piece made up of two couples. One couple lives in Washington and the other couple lives in rural Canada. They always pack the dance floor at the festival! Members of Foghorn will surely be seen jumping up to play songs with other acts from morning to night during the whole four days of Oldtone.

Thanks for listening and keep on Tonin’!

Photo Credit: Molsky’s Mountain Drifters by Reed Stutz; Walton Goggins by Shayan Asgharnia.

Ben Sollee’s Renewed ‘Long Haul’ Perspective on Earth, Life, and Music

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Seven years have elapsed between Ben Sollee’s last studio release, his 2017 album with Kentucky Native, and his new one, Long Haul (arriving August 16). Much has happened in Sollee’s life since ‘17. His family has grown by two children. He worked on a number of soundtracks, even winning an Emmy Award in 2018 for his score on the ABC special, Base Ballet. The Kentucky born and based singer/songwriter/cellist, who has long been an advocate for environmental and other social causes, also helped launch a nonprofit named Canopy, which helps businesses in his home state positively impact people, the planet, and the future.

When COVID hit, it hit Sollee hard. “I was one of the early folks to get COVID in fall of 2020 and it stuck with me in a way that didn’t stick with other people.” During his prolonged recovery, he had to change how he ate, what he drank, how he slept, and how he exercised. “It turned into a journey of inward exploration and changing my external life. I really changed pretty much everything… It wasn’t until I started emerging from long haul [COVID], I was like, ‘Oh, I think I’ve got something to say about this.’”

While this album grew out of Sollee’s personal health crisis, it also was greatly affected by the death of his close friend and long-time collaborator, Jordon Ellis, who died by suicide in early 2023.

Always ready to blur genres, Sollee felt more free to expand his sonic palette on Long Haul, which includes a gospel-style choir, a Little Richard-inspired rock ‘n’ roll rave-up, West African rhythms, and Caribbean grooves. He purposely wanted to have lively, rhythmic melodies to balance deeply thoughtful lyrics.

“The same way,” he explained, “That Michael Jackson would have these big statements in the middle of these dance songs.” Sollee also recorded a special Dolby ATMOS Spatial Audio version for this album – a first for him – to underscore Long Haul’s immersive sound quality.

Part of what the title Long Haul refers to is your serious battle with long COVID and it also addresses life as being a long haul. How did the two interrelate for you, personally?

Ben Sollee: [COVID] definitely put me in relationship with my body in a way that I had never been before and once you start that relationship with your body, you realize just how interconnected everything is. I mean, we’re all on this long haul together… and I realized that maybe the most radical thing that I could do was to care for myself. That really shifted how I think of my live performances and really my purpose for being out on the road, [which] is to help people connect with themselves. Because once they connect with themselves, then they can have the capacity to be in relationship with nature, other people, animals, you name it. How I be in the world has shifted. It’s subtle from an external view, but internally it’s pretty profound.

How did this all affect your approach in making this album?

I realized that I had a very exploitative relationship with my creativity over the years, where it was just like: Here’s a project, just make stuff. And that was just really eye-opening.

I took a couple of different approaches in the making of this record. The passing of my friend and musical collaborator, Jordon, in the process of writing this record was really profound, because he was such a keystone to my creative process. It kind of forced me to think about how I was approaching music-making in the record without him.

So, I tried a couple different mantras, and one of them was “follow the resonance.” If it said something to me, I didn’t need to figure out why it said something to me, even if that is Polynesian flute playing or this sort of strange Tejano Caribbean groove – just follow it. In the past, I would kind of hedge; like I would hear something, I’d be really into that sound, but I wouldn’t feel like I could, for whatever reason. Like it’s not part of my cultural heritage. I would come up with a reason to be like, I shouldn’t make music with that sound or influence.

Another mantra was “show our fingerprints.” The way that we recorded the record – it was about hearing the hands and the strings and hearing the breath. I chose instruments that would really feature those human aspects of breath and touch. We incorporated woodwinds, which you can hear prominently on the first single, “Misty Miles.” We incorporated choirs in this record for the first time, because I really wanted that breath and sound. Much of the percussion is hand percussion. It’s a very tactile record… very high touch record.

You produced Long Haul. What was the recording process like?

It was a very intuitive, collective approach, and it meant that not only did the music turn out as a surprise to me and others, but it also meant that it was a very engaged, emotional journey. Adrienne Maree Brown [author of the book, Emergent Strategy] is really the inspiration for this – instead of having a singular artist’s vision, you really bring together a group of people in a facilitated way.

It made me maybe a little bit more brave and confident that wherever things went, we could execute that… I mean, musicians left the sessions crying, because they had such a good time and they felt seen and heard. And that, to me, means as much as the music that came out.

Did your experiences composing film soundtracks serve at all as an influence?

[Film work] also inspired me to explore Atmos. I really wanted this record to be an immersive experience, kind of like a sonic film. In keeping with that, there are a few songs that actually have sound design incorporated into them. It’s the first time I’ve done it in such an intentional and immersive way where we’ve got cars driving by with “Hawk and Crows.”

There is a real stylistic diversity to the sound of this album, like “Under The Spell” is one song with a funky dance groove to it.

[Laughs] I wasn’t trying to make a dance track. It started with that cello lick that you hear at the beginning. And it’s sort of this hypnotic West African loop of a lick that really began as kind of me trying to figure out some old-time banjo, like clawhammer music, on the cello.

The words are referencing this kind of duality… dealing with identity and self and how often we are under the influence of the stories that people tell of us. Every time I have this ambition, desire, and even just like the idea of me having something, it sets me down a path of being unsatisfied, which causes a lot of harm to other people and myself in the world. So, the words can go as deep as somebody wants to, but it’s also if people just want to release and have some sort of existential-like dance experience – then let’s go, let’s dance!

It touches on an evolution that I don’t expect anybody to notice in my music and career. My early records had a lot of direct social and political statements in the song. I realized that they were a little bit superficial and surface-y. They weren’t really getting it to the core of those issues. So, I’ve kind of moved into, I guess what I would call like a “post-activist” stance. My music has moved away from direct political commentary most of the time to more of a foundational, fundamental idea of togetherness, of connectedness.

“One More Day” stands out as a key song too.

I guess the original seed of that song emerged as I was beginning to travel again after Jordon had passed away – to places where he and I had traveled so many times. I started thinking about what would I have said had he called me in that moment of decision before he took his life? But the only thing that I would have really said to him is, “Listen, I hear you, I respect your decision, but what’s the rush? Like, if you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it, but you don’t have to do it right now. Just give it one more day, give it one more sunrise. Just get one last look.”

I think that’s what I would have said to him. And the song makes that case through different vignettes of our time together on the road. And, it does it over this Caribbean, Tejano groove that must have come from some jams that he and I did together. It must have. It just feels like a very Jordon groove. What I love about that is it has this real joyous, almost like early Police kind of vibe to it. There’s some really tough content in there and I just love the idea of people dancing at a festival – and just saying, “Give it one more day.”

The closing song, “When You Gonna Learn,” features a rousing gospel-style choir and addresses following your inner voice. It launches the listener out of the album and into the world in a very uplifting way.

I wanted to end with that message, because as a father I watch my four- and six-year-old who have yet to really settle into a sense of self or identity, and they are just so connected to their world and just basic truths about caring for things and protecting things and love and justice. And I think that it’s just more proof to me that there are things we know that get taught out of us. This song just is like: When are you going to learn that you already know?

You address a lot of tough issues on the album, but do so with a sense of humanism and spirited music that offer a hopeful way out of these challenging times.

I often reflect on that “Pale Blue Dot” image that Voyager took looking back at Earth and it’s just black and there’s just one little, tiny dot. And that dot really says it all, because it’s all there, as Carl Sagan says: every love, every heartbreak, every war, every church, it’s all on that one little dot.

So, we got to make it work here. And I think that’s the biggest challenge that we have right now. How do we make this work? I get that we’re going to make some big mistakes along the way. I sure have in my life. That’s where the grace comes in, but we got to make it work here. We don’t have another spot.

Photos courtesy of Big Hassle.

BGS 5+5: The Down Hill Strugglers

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: The Down Hill Strugglers
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Latest Album: Old Juniper
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): We are sometimes mistakenly called the Down Home Stragglers.

Editor’s Note: Answers have been provided by band member Eli Smith.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Lots of great memories there. Being on stage at the Jalopy Theatre, the Brooklyn Folk Festival, or Washington Square Park Folk Festival with Walker, Jackson, and our dear bandmate, now gone, John Cohen would probably be my favorites.

It was also wonderful to play at the Library of Congress, in that hallowed hall. And the Oldtone Music Festival is an important one for us.

What’s the most difficult creative transformation you’ve ever undertaken?

It’s been interesting running the Brooklyn Folk Festival all these years, and now running the Jalopy Theatre’s record label, Jalopy Records, while also maintaining a musical life with the Down Hill Strugglers and solo, under my own name. Many musicians are also producers, as I am. It can be a challenge to switch back and forth between those mindsets, but it is satisfying to see both types of work progress. Finally, it’s all about sharing good music, however you can.

Genre is dead – long live genre! – but how would you describe the genres and styles your music inhabits?

We are working in the field of traditional music from the United States, with an ear also turned to traditional music from all over the world. One song I wrote, that’s on our new album, was inspired by a 78rpm record from Central Asia re-issued on the Secret Museum of Mankind series. It had a sound that stuck in my head and made sense to me. We changed it around until it became our own song in our own style. That seems natural.

The Down Hill Strugglers is an old-time string band. However, old-time music is a catch all for historic American folk music. It encompasses fiddle music, banjo tunes, guitar picking, songs & ballads, blues, religious music, work songs, and more; diverse music ministering to different parts of life.

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

Longmont Potion Castle has remained popular with the Down Hill Strugglers, driving around on tour, for years. That’s some funny stuff…

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

I might drive a cab, or something like that. I’d have great music playing in the cab and deck the vehicle out my own way. It’d be nice. Also, I’d do more organizing work as a leftwing activist. And I used to be a clerk in record stores. The best job I had was at the Arhoolie store, Down Home Music, in El Cerrito, California.

Photo Credit: Fernando Armenghol

MIXTAPE: Blackwater Railroad’s Music From the Last Frontier

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Alaska is an incredible melting pot for artists. Despite our sparse population, we are filled with wonderful creative types and a bustling music scene. Lots of our music and tradition stems from bluegrass and string music, the roots of which can be seen in so many of our incredible acts. As a band, we seek to celebrate our state and our scene, both of which are thriving and yet largely ignored by the lower 48. – Blackwater Railroad

“Heirlooms” – Josh Fortenbery

Josh’s new album is so immediately captivating. His voice is incredible, the instrumentation divine, and his songwriting is top notch. You can lose yourself instantly in the images he paints in your mind. He’s also part of Muskeg Collective, a Juneau-Based supergroup of folk musicians.

“Call Me a Fool” – Erin Heist

Erin is also part of the Muskeg Collective and another great example of the high standard that Juneau musicians bring to the world. Her smooth voice and raw lyrics speak directly to our hearts. Be sure to listen for the wonderful mandolin work by her husband, Andrew Heist, on this track. Power couple much??

“Sundays” – Wiley Post

We’ve had the pleasure of sharing the stage with these folks a few times now. They have an eclectic indie vibe that is so characteristic of our scene. Enjoy soaring fiddle lines, tasteful piano, and angelic vocals on this one!

“Brand New Love” – Black Barrel & The Bad Men

One of the more recent additions to our Alaskan scene, BB&TBM have hit the ground running. Their debut EP is gold and their live performances are top-notch. They ooze passion in their vocal arrangements and instrumentation. Their songs get stuck in my head constantly. I would not doubt big things to be coming to these (really good) Bad Men.

“Sink or Swim” – Zen Trembles

Becky Kotter has one of the most unique approaches to guitar and music that I’ve ever seen. She uses multiple capos and open tunings, playing entirely by ear to create her special brand of folk. Her voice is so nuanced and creative and every song you hear is creative and fresh!

“The Cuckoo” – Annie Bartholomew

Annie B is an undeniable talent. Her songwriting and lyrics resonate so strongly for us, and her aesthetic in general is delightful. Every time I’ve had the pleasure to see her perform live was an enchanting experience. The world needs more Annies!

“Orbiting Things” – Fireweed Fiddle

Ok, ok, yes, Fireweed Fiddle does happen to be our very own fiddle player, Rachel DeTemple. When she’s not sitting in with us all across Alaska, she’s writing brilliant music of her own. Rachel’s new album showcases her wonderful skills as both a singer and a player, all while being wrapped in a perfect folky bow.

“Traveler’s Waltz” – Hope Social Club

This is one of the most iconic acts we have in our state. They have a rich history of incredible music and live performances. Enjoy their entire catalog, and if you’re lucky enough to see one of the few shows they play a year, you’re in for a treat!

“Pray for John” – Roland Roberts

Roland is such a good storyteller. Even without guitar in hand you can listen to him wax poetic about anything. This is a slower tune, brilliant in all respects, but be sure to check out his other tunes for some more upbeat and rocking pieces as well. Roland also helped write one of the tunes on our new album, “Road to Make Believe”!

“Not Over You” – Evan Phillips

This tune has a wonderful vibe. I got to enjoy this one for the first time on a long trip back home in the band van. The dreamlike production paired with nature’s majesty on the highway made for one of the most delightful moments I’ve had in a long time. For a moment, I forgot I was stuck crammed in a van with five other stinky dudes for eight hours. I mean, that’s gotta count for something, right?

“Lucky Tennessee” – Bethlehem Shalom

This is such a cool track by such a creative artist. I think within a few seconds her iconic flavor will pour out of your speakers. A great example of the creative sounds and experiences you can get out of living in our wild state.

“Rock and Roll Man” – Blackwater Railroad

Hey, it’s us! This is the most rock-oriented song on our new album. It also might be the one that was the most exciting to make. The build up at the end features Taylor Vidic on vocals. We turned out the lights in the studio and just asked her to ad-lib based on how the track felt to her. She delivered 1000% and made for what might be the most iconic moment on the album.

“Lonely House” – Steve Brown and the Bailers

This is an awesome tune on the road. Alaska is huge and spread out so we spend a lot of time on the highway. Tunes like this keep the wheels turning and the spirits high. This song gets more and more creative as it evolves, so be sure to keep listening to see what happens. Spoiler: it’s sick.

Photo Credit: David Juarez

AJ Lee & Blue Summit’s ‘City of Glass’ is Funny, Sexy, and Empowered

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

At 26, the prodigy phase of AJ Lee’s music career has passed. It might take a little more time for the tendency to confuse her with a professional wrestler using the same name to fade away.

“I think I could take her!” Lee — the singing one — gamely pronounces at the conclusion of an interview on the third album by AJ Lee & Blue Summit, City of Glass (out July 19 on Signature Sounds), prompting laughter from the band’s Scott Gates, who asserts himself on the new album writing three songs on which he sings lead.

Rounding out Santa Cruz, California-based Blue Summit are fiddler Jan Purat and guitarist Sullivan Tuttle, one of the children of educator-musician Jack Tuttle and brother of breakout star Molly Tuttle. Lee also got her start with “The Tuttles with AJ Lee.”

A keen sense of humor dots City of Glass, which was produced by Lech Wierzynski of “retro-soul” band The California Honeydrops. It was Wierzynski who suggested Harlan Howard’s “He Called Me Baby,” on which Lee delivers a notably sultry lead vocal. The reference point for her version of “He Called Me Baby” is soul singer Candi Stanton, rather than Patsy Cline or Charlie Rich.

“I was raised to sing pretty straightforward. I wanted to remove as much ego as I could, because I just wanted to sing and have fun,” Lee said. “I’ve learned to put a little bit more of my personality into it and that, I think, is making me a better singer overall, which is why we wanted to work with Lech in the first place, because he’s such a powerful singer.

“That really resonated with me and I’m trying to move more in that direction.”

Gates pipes up at this point: “AJ’s not going to say this, but Lech brought ‘He Called Me Baby’ to the table because he had the foresight, coming from that soul world, he recognizes in AJ’s voice the ability to do this kind of thing.

“The cross-pollination of these American roots, is a smart move from Lech, I think,” he said.

BGS caught up with Lee and Gates as they rehearsed in Nashville, Tennessee, and prepared to do some lip synching for a video. As a seasoned bandleader, Lee takes pains to spread the credit for her success around and steers some questions toward Gates to try and ensure she doesn’t dominate the conversation.

City of Glass is AJ Lee & Blue Summit’s third album. How do you view the progression that got you to this point?

AJ Lee: The first album, [Like I Used To], we were looking for what kind of sound we wanted as a band. Because at that time, it was only four members without a fiddle player. So on that one, we had some more electric instruments and more drums. The second album, [I’ll Come Back], we went more acoustic roots, because we just wanted to play more bluegrass, because that’s what we grew up on and that’s what we do best. For this third album, we’re confident doing bluegrass, roots, and country, sticking with more stringed instruments, but also branching out. With Lech’s involvement, we’re leaning a little bit towards soul, R&B, and keeping it interesting, but still showcasing ourselves and what we like to play and what we like to do.

Several songs on City of Glass are funny. There’s one, “Toys,” making fun of a men who act like boys, another about getting “Sick on a Plane” and a humorous take on busking, “Solicitor Man.” Why so lighthearted this time around?

Scott Gates: I grew up playing bluegrass with a lot of silly guys. There’s a bouncy kind of lighthearted feel in a lot of traditional stuff. … I noticed that a lot of songs that I had written were kind of getting down into my feelings and whatnot, and I wanted to write one that I knew would be fun for my friends to play.

Are there models in bluegrass you’re following with the humor?

SG: There is a history of fun stuff like The Louvin Brothers. I’m also influenced by Jimmy Martin. Jimmy Martin is one of the pillars of bluegrass music, and he’s hilarious.

“Toys” is about a young guy or maybe an immature man. Is it about yourself, Scott?

SG: A little bit, yeah, probably as a teenager noticing the involuntary methods by which young, dumb boys go about thinking of themselves. It was mostly born out of that phrase, “The man who dies with the most toys wins.”

The title cut, “City of Glass,” is about leaving an artistic legacy. Aren’t you guys a little young to be concerned about that?

AJ: Yeah, I’m pretty young. I’m 26 now, but I have been doing music since I was really young. Collectively, we figured out that the band has about 90 years worth of experience. I’ve been playing on stage since I was about four or five years old. So I’m young, but I have been doing it for a long time. Legacy is having something that you’ve made be around even when you’re not doing it anymore. That’s a big theme of “City of Glass.”

As you say, you got started very young as musicians and Jack Tuttle was a common mentor. How did that develop?

SG: I met AJ when she was four. I knew her older sister Molly, ‘cause she’s my age. So I knew her more. But [Sullivan Tuttle] was around, and Sully and AJ had known each other since back then. I was probably about seven or eight when I first started going to the Father’s Day Festival and the music camp. So I got an opportunity to learn and play from people like John Reischman and Mike Compton and see musicians like The Osborne Brothers and Earl Scruggs. The picking scene is incredibly high quality.

AJ, you were the only non-Tuttle in the Tuttle family band when you were very young. What was that like?

AJ: I loved it. As a young kid, it’s kind of hard to be in the moment and really appreciate what you’re doing. As a seven-year-old to fifteen-year-old, I went about it as like, “OK, we’re playing a gig, I’m going to practice here and I’m going to sing my song. I’m hanging out with my friends, and that’s it.” But being in that band was definitely instrumental in my progress as a bluegrass musician, because I got to work directly with Jack Tuttle. Everyone loves Jack because he’s such a renowned teacher in the community and obviously all of his kids are talented beyond measure. So I was able to play with people who were better than me and also equal to me. My mom, growing up, she always said, “You always want to play with people who are better than you, because that’s how you’re going to get better.” And so I got to have that opportunity for many years.

Is there any competition now between yourself, Molly Tuttle and Bronwyn Keith-Hynes now that you all are competing musicians in the marketplace?

SG: Absolutely! [Laughs]

AJ: No, no, no, definitely not. For me and Molly, we’re branching off and doing our own thing. We were in a band for however many years, and now we’re off doing our own projects. And Bronwyn is branching off and doing her own projects in a similar way.

So, it’s the same in any community or genre of music, you played together and now you’re doing your own thing. Molly’s singing on our album as well, on a song [“I Can’t Find You at All”] that her dad wrote.

AJ, you could pursue a solo career, why do you prefer a band situation?

AJ: It makes me happy. I like playing with other people. I don’t really like performing by myself. I feel like I have a lot to offer, but I also like playing with people who also have a lot to offer and are amazing talents. And, you know, people compliment our band on how many singers there are. I always think that the more singers the better, the more talent you can showcase the better.

Pretty much anyone in the band could peel off and do a solo career. But I think what makes us really unique and strong as a band is that we all can be individual musicians, but we choose to play together, because it just makes the creative juices flow more and it makes us want to even continue on more than I would as a solo musician.

SG: At some point, I’ll probably do my own project. But right now, all I care about is playing music with AJ and the boys and see where this goes. I try not to plan too much. I don’t really scheme. I probably should scheme a little bit more, but I just don’t.

How does the California bluegrass scene differ from the South?

SG: A lot of people think of California as the jammy stuff, the Deadhead stuff that comes out of there. But even to this day, the California Bluegrass Association is very traditional. It’s one of the most traditional associations out there and there’s also a huge focus on singing. The singers that come out of a place like Tennessee are extremely good at blending. There’s a school of singing, and a lot of them sound very similar. Their harmonies are incredibly perfect. But California tends to reward individuality and uniqueness. The unique voices are kind of put on a pedestal.

AJ, your singing style is more subtle than showy. Why?

AJ: I agree with you. I’ve always really appreciated the subtlety of singing to where it’s not, “Look at me. Look at how well I can sing.”

“Hillside” uses the metaphor of a hill that aspires to be a mountain. What does the metaphor represent?

AJ: “Hillside” is about women empowerment. The metaphor is that you are this hill that is bombarded by all these outside elements trying to knock you down. But your foundation has become so strong and nothing’s really going to topple you over.

Have you experienced a lot of sexism in your career?

AJ: I’ve experienced some, of course. Especially after shows, you know a lot of older gentleman say things to me that obviously they mean well, but it just turns out to be very sexist. I get a lot of the, “If I was 20-years, 30-years younger” sort of statements, and it’s just like, “Ooh, gosh.”

How about general discrimination?

AJ: Yeah, especially jamming in the bluegrass community, as a woman sometimes you’ll just get into those circles that have that male energy so present and it’s really hard for women to join a jam sometimes. But I’ve learned to try to just get myself in there over the years with support from my mom and other strong women who are also in the community.

Are you on the record on where the “Blue Summit” band name originates?

AJ: Our first festival we played was a Kate Wolf festival. We actually didn’t really have a band name yet that we were happy with. The original name we hated. Our original bass player at the time, Isaac Cornelius, came up with The Highway 17 Savages, which doesn’t really resonate with our band at all. We totally needed to change this name. So we made these recordings to send in to Kate Wolf at Isaac’s house, which he grew up on the summit in Santa Cruz. So we were like bluegrass on the summit. So we became Blue Summit.

Photo Credit: Natia Cinco

5 Inappropriate Times to Play “Wagon Wheel”

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Whether you’re desperately scrambling for a karaoke number or seeking an anthem to unite your politically-opposed family this election season, Old Crow Medicine Show’s 2004 hit “Wagon Wheel” has been a safe bet for nearly two decades.

However, despite its widespread appeal, we’ve curated a list of scenarios where this ubiquitous ditty might do more harm than good. Here are five times you should firmly resist the urge to play it:

At the North American Cartographer’s Convention  

Suggesting a westward journey through the Cumberland Gap will land a trucker in Johnson City, Tennessee is geographic heresy that will incite blind fury from the map-making community. Johnson City lies east, you directionally-challenged jackwagon. Prepare for fisticuffs.

During Daycare Center Staff Training

Regaling childcare workers with tales of rocking children “any way you feel” in “the wind and the rain” is a surefire way to get your facility’s license revoked.

As the Climactic Closing Argument in the Luciano Crime Family’s RICO Trial

Defending your allegedly innocent client by randomly bursting into a tune about boxcar-hopping and ramblin’ is a strategy that will absolutely undermine their chances of avoiding jail time. Your client is already a flight risk — don’t give them any ideas.

Over the Commlink During a Navy SEAL Covert Op

It turns out that the terrorists can win against an elite force’s meticulously-planned stealth mission when this ill-timed, rousing chorus echoes through the halls of whatever compound they are infiltrating.

At a Funeral for Your Stepdad Who Died Getting Crushed by His Own Station Wagon

You never liked your mom’s third husband Keith, but kicking off your eulogy by cheerfully strumming “Headed down South to the land of the pines” might miss the solemnity mark. Especially since it was an actual wagon wheel that took him.

Greg Hess is a comedy writer and performer in Los Angeles. His work has been featured in The American Bystander, The Onion, Shouts & Murmurs, Points in Case, and he cohosts the hit satirical podcast MEGA.

Out Now: Great Aunt

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Great Aunt is an Australian folk duo composed of Megan Bird and Chelsea Allen. For a small outfit, they showcase a wide array of instruments – including mandolin, resonator guitar, acoustic guitar, double bass, percussive instruments, and vocals – with detailed harmonic arrangements.

Their music is groovy, with a foot-stomping feel as the base underlying relatable lyrics and stories, primarily drawing from Appalachian folk, bluegrass, and gospel music. Great Aunt is a duo with an impressive log of tours, festival shows, and releases that they’ve independently managed. Their most recent single, “What’s A Girl To Do Now,” covers issues around body image, identity, gender, safety, and equality.

We are eagerly awaiting the release of their debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, expected later this year. In the meantime, we are honored to highlight this incredible duo from all the way down in Australia, Great Aunt.

You just released “What’s A Girl To Do Now?” This powerful song addresses the struggles that women face around being “woman enough” – body image, identity, and more. Could you share more about the inspiration and meaning behind this song?

We started writing it when a lot of awful things were happening to women in our parliament that no man was ever held accountable for. We then spent a lot of time reflecting from our own place of privilege, as we watched First Nations women dying in [state] custody and the trans community being politicized and targeted by extreme acts of violence. We wanted to acknowledge how discrimination and acts of violence against women further intensifies at the intersections of race and gender. There’s a lot of work to do to support each other and fight for equity, where everyone feels safe, included, and as valued as any other woman. Space is infinite, there’s a place for all of us, except TERFs maybe.

You’re planning to release your debut full-length album, It’s All Downhill From Here, later this year. What has that process been like for you? What might listeners expect to hear from this much-anticipated release?

A diverse range of folk songs and a lot of personal stories to tell. We’ve been recording and mixing it ourselves with a vision to have some common themes throughout the album. Our main goal is to remain honest and sincere, and to try and translate that into the album.

As independent artists, what has the process been like for you to secure so many festival placements and shows? How do you balance the creative side of being artists with the business needs to book shows, attend conferences, and promote your music? 

We are fiercely independent! The balance is often skewed towards the business side of things with the amount of touring we’ve accomplished in the last 12 months, including three U.S. tours. The admin feels never ending, to say the least, but we both divide and conquer with festival applications, booking tours, and the PR side of things. We even do our own artwork!

Now that we’ve put in the effort, we’re starting to get invited to festivals and events around the world, which is really exciting. This year we’re balancing it in favor of writing and recording, while we start booking our next U.S. tour for 2025!

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

In the short sighted future – to continue touring the U.S., Australia, and abroad.

More importantly, we want to continue to embrace and help grow this music community so we can all thrive. We know that without the help of this community we really wouldn’t have had the incredible experiences we’ve had, so we will continue to pay it forward however we can.

What is your greatest fear?

We fear for all of us. That things don’t get better and we never find our way as humans. The feeling of being unable to make an impact or calling for change and it falls on deaf ears, is the crossroads a lot of us have been at for a while now. We see this as key as western countries enter the next round of elections.

What is your current state of mind?

Burnout and worry, yet still optimistic? Right now we make sure we find pockets of joy, away from our devices and the news.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Starting off with a big pot of coffee… or two. Then sitting in our pajamas together, in our home studio, writing and recording music throughout the day, maybe sneak in a video game or two. Then we head to a show. It doesn’t matter if we or someone else we admire is on the stage, but it’s a room full of friends and heartfelt stories.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

It’s a form of communication and expression that is a part of both of us. Creating or writing music is a constant process of growth and exploration. When we “finish” writing a song, record it down, and release it, it still continues to grow and evolve as we perform it.

Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?

Our songs start from personal experience, a reflection of something from our lives. While we don’t write music with an audience, we do hope that someone out there listening to it feels less alone, and can hold onto that connection.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

That a career in music is a long journey.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Some of the best music out there right now is queer music, and the list is forever growing. Adeem the Artist, Jessye DeSilva, Wiley Gaby, Crys Matthews, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, Julie Nolen, and the beacon of light that is Allison Russell! Oh my!

We also adore Flamy Grant, Karen & the Sorrows, Amythyst Kiah, Jake Blount, and some local Australian favs are Charlotte Le Lievre, Little Wise, the Double Dole String Band, Kerryn Fields, Hana and Jessie-Lee’s Bad Habits, This Way North, and the Tuck Shop Ladies.

For anyone reading this who might not be out of the closet, were there any specific people, musicians, or resources that helped you find yourself as a queer individual?

I, [Megan], was lucky enough to attend this place called Rock’n’Roll High School in Melbourne. It was a place started by Stephanie Bourke, an icon in Australian music. She created a safe space for young women, non-binary, and queer folks to start bands and taught us how to navigate the industry. On reflection, I distinctly remember I felt safe to be myself and finally found a place of belonging, where my queerness or size wasn’t singled out as an issue to fix. It was a significant turning point for me, and it came at the perfect time.

I came out when I was a young teen, and was fighting to live every day. I had the support of my family, but was constantly abused at school and even the school itself told my parents I didn’t belong. It nearly had a devastating impact. Please. Hold on. Find a space that makes you feel alive. Find people and community that don’t question or challenge your identity, and let you just be, that is your family. If you haven’t found it yet, please don’t give up. When you do find these people, the feeling of liberation will overwhelm you with joy. Great Aunt loves you, we’re rooting for you.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Being a musician helped me process and get comfortable within my own skin when trying to understand my own identity. We’re queer women, our music is written from our perspective, and our songs are literal stories from our lives, so it’s inherently queer music. We don’t underestimate the importance of visibility and allyship. It’s critical for us that our music is a safe space for everyone.

What has it been like for you as Australian artists touring in the US?

As folk music has such deep seated roots within American culture, we are always humbled by the breadth of the music community in the U.S. and how welcoming and supportive they have been to us. We reflect on how lucky we are to be able to do this, and the listening rooms we’ve played that have been full to the brim with people we now call friends. There’s no music scene like it.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

There’ll be a couple of U.S. tours, that’s for sure. Once we have this album out, we’re already thinking about another release to follow shortly after, and really want to make the most of a slightly quieter tour schedule this year.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Out Now is presented in partnership with our friends at Queerfest. Learn more about this Nashville-based queer-centered event and collective here.

The Avett Brothers Go Lights-Out

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Over the nearly two-and-a-half decades since their debut, the Avett Brothers have constructed their own creative universe.

They’ve released 11 studio albums, earned a Grammy award (plus three more noms), and bounded around stages for countless tour dates and festivals the world over. May It Last, a documentary film about the influential North Carolina group, offered a glimpse at the band’s dynamic through big and small screens.

Scott has also been a working visual artist since before The Avett Brothers as a band even entered the public consciousness, earning a BFA in studio art from East Carolina University in 2000 and depicting Southern family life through paintings and sculptures that would go on to make moving exhibitions—all while he also created stunning album cover imagery (for his own band as well as the great Brandi Carlile) or provided the visuals for such epic music videos as “Head Full of Doubt / Road Full of Promise.”

Musical theater, too, has been touched by the Avetts: Their musical, Swept Away, will make its mark on Broadway this fall. But the band’s eleventh album, The Avett Brothers, feels less like a charge into new creative territory and more like a reflection on the other things that have sustained them over the years.

“There’s certainly an unsettling feeling in that shadowy twenties and thirties where you get trapped into thinking that you are what you make,” Scott told Holler Country last year. “I’m settling into a season of life where I’m welcoming the reality that I am because I am, not I am because I do.”

That realization gets top billing on The Avett Brothers. Classic ballad “2020 Regret” sounds so quintessentially Avetts that it could have easily appeared just about anywhere in their catalog, if not for the veiled references to the year. It, too, embraces the idea that a life without regrets is less about what you do than it is about the people you do it alongside.

“Life cannot be written,” read the lyrics on album standout “Never Apart.” “It can only be lived.” The song muses on a long-term relationship; it’s presumably a romantic one, but would it be so crazy to listen to it through the lens of the band and its legacy?

Most bands don’t wait twenty-plus years into their trajectory to release a self-titled album — in large part because a lot of them simply don’t last that long. It’s a banner accomplishment to forge a musical path that sustains itself in any capacity for multiple decades; it’s entirely another to push forward with nearly the exact same cast of characters you started with, still collaborating and creating with the same heart and satisfaction as before.

“It’s trust. It’s a trust that’s built in,” explained Seth to NPR last month when asked about the secret to the band’s longevity. “My trust in that Scott has my best interests in mind is something that it would never occur to me to question.” He may be referring specifically to the lifelong brotherly bond he shares with the other Avett in the group, but certainly the larger band has formed a different kind of family.

Bob Crawford, who has been playing upright bass (among other instruments) with the band since 2001, took a year off to support his daughter’s battle with cancer and Avett fans followed and supported the journey at every turn. Cellist Joe Kwon, too, has an immovable fixture in the band since 2007; crowds go wild for him at every show. “We’ve been lucky and blessed to transform with each other,” added Scott, “to change with each other and watch this happening to us.”

“Cheap Coffee,” one of the album’s underrated masterpieces, makes great fodder for the idea of a group that constantly evolves and grows together. Producer Rick Rubin, who has been with the band since their major label debut, I and Love and You, apparently cut all the lights out and had them record the song entirely in the dark. The story holds up well for a song that engages so many senses: the distant smell of coffee, the feel of an outgrown apartment, the sound of a kid imagining the very highest number they possibly can. “Didn’t know how, didn’t know how good it was,” the group sings, lyrically balancing major milestones with the types of tiny details in a memory that feel insignificant at the time, but become the stuff of nostalgia decades on.

“We’ve always had this quasi-fatalist attitude, like oh, this might be the last time we ever do it,” joked Seth in an interview between their tenth and eleventh albums. “Now we’re really like, okay, we’re probably only gonna do this one more time.” In the interview, this line reads as a joke, but fans have speculated the same thing many times, too, cobbling together similar statements from the documentary film and various other interviews to try and guess how many more albums they might get.

Regardless of the band’s plans for the future, this eleventh album embraces plenty that fans love about the past. “For the Love of a Girl” is the jump-around number you can’t wait to hear live. And “Country Kid” offers an ambling glimpse at a rural North Carolina upbringing, with a heavy twang and plenty of backwoods imagery to match.

Taken altogether, The Avett Brothers feels like a worthy prize for the five-year wait between releases. “We’re not in the same hurry we used to be,” Scott explains. “Our home lives are super busy. We’re teaching kids things.”

In a way, maybe the greater message of The Avett Brothers is that the work will always be there — the opportunity to create, to explore, to have some kind of output. So maybe it’s really not so surprising that the band would wait to release an eponymous album so many years into their career, or that they might take five years since their last full-length to release it, or that they might not make promises about the future. As their influence has grown, so have the demands for their time and the expectations around what they make — not just how much of it there should be, but what it should sound like and how it should reflect the world around them.

What a beautiful thing to ignore those voices, to be enlightened by the past without being imprisoned by it; to turn off all the lights and sing in the dark.

(Editor’s Note: Read more about our selection of the Avett Brothers as Artist of the Month, explore their discography, and check out our Essentials Playlist here.)

Photo Credit: Crackerfarm

Two Women on the Cutting Edge of Bluegrass’s Future

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

At whatever level you may be plugged into the online bluegrass scene, you have surely heard, seen, or scrolled into content by Bronwyn Keith-Hynes and Brenna MacMillan. These two young, talented pickers are part of a vibrant and blossoming community of traditional musicians and folk artists that includes folks like Cristina Vane, Victor Furtado, Hilary Klug, Wyatt Ellis, and many more.

What makes these creators stand apart, especially Keith-Hynes and MacMillan, is that they aren’t just shoehorning social media into their art-making and creative processes to move up Music City ladders and check abstract music industry boxes. Instead, they’ve intentionally demonstrated how powerful, engaging, and charming content can be when it’s made with art, creativity, tradition, and joyful, cooperative generation as its focal points. Instead of bending over backward to construct virality and lean into transient socials trends, they let their talent, their songs, and their communities do all the talking.

In May, Keith-Hynes released her second solo album, I Built a World, her first project to center songs and her recently-developed, impressive vocals. Drawing on musicians and pickers from her immediate circle and her main gig – Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway – as well as tapping notable country stars and bluegrass legends, the project finds Keith-Hynes at her most confident and unbothered. This is a fiddler-singer-front woman who has found her voice – literally, through work, practice, and vocal lessons as well as figuratively, not satisfied to craft a career on bowing the fiddle alone.

@bronwynmusic Somehow Tonight [Earl Scruggs] SPBGMA stairwell jam!!! Our favorite acoustics for sweet harmonies 😇 🎻: Bronwyn Keith-Hynes 🪕: Brenna @Brenna MacMillan 🎸: Danielle Yother #spgbma #bluegrass #indoor #festival #nashville #harmonies #womeninmusic #banjo #guitar #fiddle #fridaynights #weekend #fyp #stairwellsinging #explore #foryou #bluegrasstiktok ♬ original sound – Bronwyn Keith-Hynes

Later this year, MacMillan will release her debut solo album. Its lead single, “What’s to Come,” features Ronnie McCoury and is indeed a harbinger for the superb album to follow. This project, which highlights MacMillan’s prolific songwriting and features her musical community fleshing out the band, is built directly upon the successes she, Keith-Hynes, and others have found on the internet. Eschewing labels, management, or traditional roll outs, MacMillan will release the project herself, with funds raised on GoFundMe, bringing the music directly to her consumers on her own website and socials channels without “middle men.”

So, not only are MacMillan and Keith-Hynes innovating on ideas around what it means to be a side person, a career picker, and multi-hyphenate, professional traditional musicians, they’re taking all of their expertise as online brands and businesswomen to find success for themselves, on their own terms. They’re focusing on what matters, centering their communities, and making incredible, superlative music at the same time.

BGS connected with MacMillan and Keith-Hynes together via video chat to talk about their unique approaches to making albums, content, and music, while highlighting the deep and tight-knit “bluegrass influencer” circle they’ve each helped create since moving to Nashville and putting their all into bluegrass.

I wanted to start by talking about community and musical community – one of the reasons why I wanted to have you both in conversation with each other is how you each rely on, draw from, and center your musical communities in what you create. It may look like these are solo projects that you’re making, but they’re clearly not solitary projects – and they don’t really feel like vanity projects, either. from the outside looking in either. It really feels you’re making music with other people so you can make music with other people. Could you talk about your work, your solo albums, and working in your communities?

Bronwyn Keith-Hynes: Yeah, I think first and foremost, me and Brenna are good friends and we just ended up being drawn together. We both moved to Nashville around the same time and ended up doing a lot of things together and had a lot of similar interests. That’s cool to find. I haven’t found that many women who have my same interests until I moved to Nashville and then all of a sudden I felt like there was a whole bunch. It’s been really awesome to find that.

First of all, I’m just such a fan of so many people, and I wouldn’t want to make music any other way. My project was based around songs from my community, which was really special to me. It was like a little nerve wracking reaching out to friends and people I respected to be like, “Do you have a song that you’re not going to record that I could record?” But, thankfully, a lot of people did – including Brenna – and I ended up recording one of her songs. And, she sang on it and it was awesome!

I feel like I couldn’t do it alone. I know my strengths and then I know other people’s strengths and I want to make sure we’re all [drawing on our strenghts]. I don’t know if singing is my strength, but it’s something I feel passionate about and feel driven to do for whatever reason. I know the things that I want to put out in the world; I want to make sure the music I’m making has the best parts of myself, but then the best parts of everyone else who’s playing on it.

I think that folks who aren’t just straight white men in this industry, we realize from the get-go that we have to have others with us. We have to do it together. Otherwise we’re not going to go the distance. I feel that in both of your music, as well. But Brenna, I wonder what that question brings up for you, as you’re thinking about and positioning your album to release as well?

Brenna MacMillan: It’s funny, because when Bronwyn asked about songs that I had, I had like a bunch and at that time I wasn’t even thinking about [making] an album at all. I think it was maybe like a couple months later that I decided, based on my friends that kept being like, “You should record some of these songs!” And I was like, “I guess…” I wasn’t thinking about it at all whatsoever.

Then that’s another way like to get my songwriting out there, too. And why wait for someone to come to me for songs if they don’t even know that there are songs? Besides my friends, which is who I first would want to do my songs anyway. It’s funny, because obviously it’s really cool putting out your own music, but I still get more excited when “Riddle” comes on than when “What’s to Come” comes on. [Laughs] That is so cool!

Someone else’s vision for your song, it’s like the coolest thing ever to me. Because, I know what my brain comes up with so it’s not shocking, but someone else’s ideas around something that you wrote – it’s like the coolest thing ever, and I guess that’s why I love the community. I feel like community is like the word that I say way too much, but I do I love it. For Bronwyn, Cristina [Vane], Hilary [Klug], Emily, and Mallory, to some extent back in 2018, we all were moving to town around that time and then 2020 hit and I think that’s when we all got a little closer, because we were all bored and wandering around. I took a lot of walks with my friends, individually, we tried to stay across the path from each other, but I think those bonding moments brought us closer. We were like, “Let’s get coffee” or “let’s get dinner,” and then we ended up making a video or something and it all evolved into great friendship, plus people online being like, “Oh, we like to hear you guys play together!”

@brennamacbanjo Friday night with Lester Flatt! #bluegrass #harmonies #sisters #womeninmusic #fyp #banjo #fiddle #musicians #foryou #friday #weekend #vibes #flatt #scruggs @bronwynkeithhynes @cvanemusic ♬ original sound – brennamacbanjo

One of the things I love most about that whole community of content creators – you’re talking about Cristina Vane and a lot of these other folks you create with here in Nashville – it never feels like you’re trying to shoehorn bluegrass into contemporary content creation. It really seems that making bluegrass music and making roots music with your friends is the impetus, and then you made it fit into social media – instead of vice versa. Like, it’s happened organically and from a community standpoint first, and not just from “I have a social strategy. I have a five year plan.” Do you agree or disagree?

BM: Oh yeah, I agree. There’s not much strategy that’s happened in here. There’s not a lot of that going on. [Laughs]

And yet, I can tell you objectively from the outside looking in, y’all are still operating with 110% more strategy in mind than most of bluegrass. [Laughs]

BKH: I feel like Brenna and I have both talked about – correct me if I’m not saying this right, Brenna – wanting social media to serve us, rather than for us to serve social media. The end goal, for at least for both of us, is not like to become a social media star, it’s to have it serve us, to get our names and our music out to more people.

BM: Yeah! And it felt like it was very random that social media took off for me. I was just like, “Where are you guys coming from? Why do you want to hear me kick off a J.D. Crowe song like every day?” But at the same time, it has its own frustrations and that’s when me – and I think a bunch of the other girls that do this side by side with their music careers – we’re like, “We’re going to have this, but only if it makes sense for helping promote our live gigs and any projects we’re doing.” But as soon as I get nasty comments, or this, or that I’m like, “Oh, I will literally just get off of this app if it’s going to go this direction.” I just block people and then keep going.

I want an audience who will appreciate the things that I want them to appreciate. I think that I’ve trained my audience, too. Basically I shoved it in there, “You are going to listen to this slow song and try to enjoy that. And if you don’t, then I’m going to take you [out of my following]…” Because there have been some people who think that I am a content creator on there, and I’m like, “No, I play music and I took an hour out of my day and posted this video and we’re lucky that happened. Now I’m on my way to a gig and I don’t need some [negative] comment.” But you could come to a live gig and request a song!

Brenna, one of the things I love about your upcoming album and the messaging around it is that you’re really doing  a direct-to-consumer business model and roll out. You’re being like, “Y’all can come to me. You already know how to find me, so this is where you can find the music, too.” I think it’s amazing and again, it’s the cutting edge of what the future of bluegrass will be while it’s also so fucking trad. It’s like back in the day, when bluegrass music required taking the car battery out of the car to play a show in the high school auditorium and then putting the battery back in to drive to the next high school auditorium.

It’s like you’re doing that in the 21st century. You’re being a DIY bluegrass musician, but in 2024. Can you talk a little bit about the direct to consumer model you’re using with your album roll out?

BM: I was like, I need to build a website so that there’s everything in one place – I remember why I did it, too, because there are a bunch of fake accounts. I knew I needed something out there to be authentic and to have all of my official links. That was literally my number one goal with the website. So now, here’s the link to my website, you can find my YouTube channel, my Facebook, my Instagram, my TikTok from there. And you’re going to know you’re in the right place. I’ve basically just started to try to push everything to my website and go from there to everything else, even if it’s taking you back to Instagram. Because [the website is] where everything’s going to happen, so that you know that it’s me instead of some person scamming you. I guess with that in mind, I started trying to link everything, like in my stories, when I’m talking about anything coming up, I just say, “Go to my website!”

Bronwyn, I wanted to ask you again about community and about bringing your circle, your scene into your album. I love all of the features on your album and I also love that it doesn’t just feel like you’re reaching for a Collaborative Recording of the Year nomination. 

[All laugh]

But I wanted to know how it felt to you, as you were thinking about who you wanted to have on the record and why you wanted to have them on the record?

BKH: I’m glad to hear you say that it feels like it’s in service of the music, because that was definitely my intent. It was the funnest part of [recording the album], for me. I did kind of make those decisions after the tracks were done and I’d done my vocals. I just didn’t know how it was going to turn out until I heard it. Then I would brainstorm with Brent [Truitt], and Jason [Carter], and whoever about who to get on it. Dudley Connell was somebody I was really excited about and I’d never met him. I didn’t know him. Someone just gave me his number, I called him up and left him a nervous voicemail. But yeah, he turned out to be the sweetest guy ever – and he’s a bluegrass hero, I love all those Johnson Mountain Boys records.

It’s crazy especially being a new singer, I haven’t heard my voice recorded much ever. Then to hear my voice with all these other voices that I know and I’ve heard a lot – to hear like that combination for the first time – it was like very surreal!

What was it like working with Dierks [Bentley]? We all know his bluegrass pedigree and his connections to the Station Inn and to the McCourys and that he’s always had one foot so solidly in bluegrass, but y’all would have gotten to know him and got to spend some time with him on the road with Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, too. I wondered how how that conversation happened and also what it felt like to you to have someone who has gold records and platinum records collaborating with you on your record?

BKH: I grew with his Up On The Ridge album, it was literally one of the first bluegrass albums I heard around my college years.
I was obsessed with it and I thought it was so cool. It got me into listening to the more trad stuff, but I’d always loved his music and then being Jason [Carter’s] partner, and Jason and he were friends even before he was famous. So they’ve been friends from the get go.

I’d met him a few times through Jason and then again when we were on tour [opening for him], that was cool. ‘Cause I felt like we could meet [more as peers], not just because I’m somebody’s partner. But now, this is my gig and this is your gig. And you’re asking us to sit in every night. I felt a little bit more comfortable to make that ask. He just came into Brent’s studio one day and tracked it in under an hour. He’s great! Very quick.

Brenna, talk to me a little bit and if you have features on your upcoming album – and if you can’t talk about them yet, that’s totally fine.

BM: I know, I was trying to think of what I should say – I don’t know, I’m the one in charge! But let me check, I don’t know if Brenna wants to tell all that yet. [Laughs]

At the very least, we can talk about Ronnie [McCoury] and “What’s to Come.” Ronnie’s one of my favorites. Talk a bit about, again, bringing in community and bringing in the scene that already surrounds you.

BM: The core band in the studio was [Mike] Bub on bass and Jake Stargel on guitar. Me, I played banjo on four or five of the tracks, but I have been writing a lot on clawhammer lately and I know that I’m not good at it, so I had Frank Evans come in for those and then I had Cory [Walker] play on a couple very last minute. I was thinking, it’s just going to be better if he does it.

When the special guests ideas popped in my brain, I was thinking, “Do I want special guests to be like my friends, my age, or like people that I really are like heroes of mine? Is this the time to ask them? I don’t know.” Nobody knows who I am, but that’s okay. I had met Ronnie a handful of times in kind of settings where it was like, “I’m here with so and so” and I’m just a little curmudgeon. [Laughs]

“What’s to Come,” it’s like a reflective life song. I know that I sound like a small baby when I sing, and I was thinking of someone with an older sounding voice. Like wanting ancient, lonesome vibes so that there could be old and young together, pondering about life. If you’re young or if you’re old, you still ask all the same questions about life.

Also, [Ronnie’s] gritty mandolin playing. I love it so much. Jarrod Walker played on most of the core mandolin stuff, but he happened to be out of the country that session. I was like, this is perfect! But it’s funny, because I didn’t even know if Ronnie was going to bring his mandolin! [Laughs]

To wrap up, here’s a question I had for both of you, because you’re both musical shape shifters. You move in and out of musical contexts so easily; you’re both side people, you’re both front people, you’re both social media brands. How do you maintain your senses of self?

BKH: I feel like I can’t get away from myself! I don’t feel like I ever even think about that. The only way I’ve struggled with that a little bit, or thought about that more, is doing the solo projects. That’s where I’m like, “Wow. OK. What would Bronwyn do next?” But I think I know what I like and I know what I want to do. I’m just like, “How am I going to do that? I need to figure that out.

BM: I think similarly, I don’t really think about it that much. I think I know what I like, too. And I know what I don’t like. From the get go, I’ve very much just been myself online. I come home from the lab job and do a video with dark circles [under my eyes] and grunge and smelling like hemp trash. That’s what I established from the beginning. So now, I feel comfortable being myself.

Pretty much everything has been my own ideas and, it’s funny, because ten of my eleven songs are originals on the album, three of which are co writes, but hearing it come to life in the studio with other people, it still ended up being what I thought it should be. Which is weird, because there’s no way that I could bring some of these musicians into the studio who are eons beyond what I could imagine, but they knew exactly what the track needed. It does sound like me still and what my vision would have been if I had expressed it [all myself].

BKH: I feel like I’m like more myself these days than I’ve ever been. I feel like for a while, starting out in bluegrass, I had a lot of ideas of what a woman in bluegrass needed to look like, or be, or act like. In the last couple years, maybe inspired by being with Molly in Golden Highway, I feel like I’ve been able to let a lot of that stuff go – about how I should dress and whatever. Now, I embrace the things I actually like.

Photo Credit: Brenna MacMillan by Sophie Clark; Bronwyn Keith-Hynes by Alexa King Stone.