Do you remember the human being you were in 2017? When the “first” North American total solar eclipse of the 2000s criss-crossed the United States, stunning millions of sky-gazers? Do you remember how dissimilar life felt then? When you look back, do your memories contain the same person you are now, or is there a vast difference between who you were then and who you are today?
In 2017, I’m With Her – an iconic assemblage of award winning roots musicians Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donovan, and Sara Watkins – were already a band, but a tangible group identity had yet to fully coalesce – and external viewers, listeners or fans or industry professionals, couldn’t tell if this was a temporary “supergroup” or something greater and long-lasting. Yes, they first collaborated as a trio in 2014 at Telluride Bluegrass Festival and their chemistry, musically and otherwise, was immediately palpable. They wrote, toured, and released music together in 2015, 2016, and 2017, appearing on Prairie Home Companion, Live From Here, and festival and venue stages all across the country and around the world. “Crossing Muddy Waters,” a John Hiatt cover and their first release together under the “I’m With Her” moniker, was released in ’15; “Little Lies” followed in ’17. Then, their acoustic cover of Adele’s “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)” performed live with Paul Kowert on tour with Punch Brothers became a smash viral hit later that same year, barely a month after the moon then blocked out the sun.
By all measures, I’m With Her were a very different group 8 to 10 years ago. Neither Watkins nor O’Donovan were yet mothers. The trio had not yet been nominated for a GRAMMY (“Call My Name” would snag a gramophone for Best American Roots Song in 2020). They wouldn’t put out their debut album, See You Around, until 2018. Yet today, on the precipice of what is somehow only their sophomore album, Wild and Clear and Blue (out May 9 on Rounder Records), whether deliberately looking back or relying solely on one’s memories and recollections, it might seem like I’m With Her has always had this outsized presence and impact in bluegrass, folk, and Americana.
Auspiciously, the celestial and grounded, fantastic and natural Wild and Clear and Blue was tracked in New York State coincidentally during/under the more recent total solar eclipse of 2024. The track of that heavenly alignment almost directly crossed the studio where the trio were crafting the new album with producer Josh Kaufman (Bonny Light Horseman, the National). Leave it to the stars, the universe, and these three otherworldly musicians to convene to build yet another masterwork under such an unlikely omen as an eclipse. The results are truly magical. O’Donovan, Jarosz, and Watkins are already writers and pickers who draw heavily on the natural world, the earth, and their own bodies, hearts, and minds not only as intellectual tools, but also as biological beings to fashion their particular style of roots music. It’s difficult not to see how the ’24 eclipse – along with their journeys together over the last decade – greatly informed this new collection.
Solidarity, women uplifting women, motherhood and family, communion with the world around them, connection to nature, challenging the painful realities of our current day-to-day, and – perhaps above all – convivial, heartfelt fun run through Wild and Clear and Blue like shimmering, cosmic rays of light. Where their past releases together have been quite stark and stripped down, often utilizing only as many voices and instruments as the trio themselves could wield in realtime, Wild and Clear and Blue is expansive, confident, and bold. Are these the same humans who first began creating together only just over a decade ago?
Of course not. None of us are the same beings we were back then. Certainly not I’m With Her. They’re GRAMMY winners now, all three married and beginning families, O’Donovan and Watkins by now veteran moms. They’ve had multiple eras together as a band and multiple solo releases unto themselves, individually, too in the meantime. The miles have sped away underneath their feet as they code switch between being an ensemble and being individual artists – while racking up accolades, awards, and listeners as a collective and separately, too. They’re seen alongside other so-called supergroups like boygenius, Bonny Light Horseman, and more; not as novelties or accessories to the “real” artistry of their constituent work unto themselves, but as a sum greater than their parts. Rightfully so!
How lucky are we to be witnesses to that growth, to each of these women’s ceaseless commitment to challenging themselves – and their communities – to move forward, to crest that next mountain, to sculpt that as-yet-undiscovered song from shapeless musical clay? How lucky are we that these three women bathed in the ancient, timeless light of a solar eclipse and alchemized their experiences into this resplendent album?
The path of this incredible trio, unlike the planets in the sky, has been anything but linear – or concentric, or predictable. Still, there’s endless insight and so much joy to be gained from inhabiting this intersection, the confluence of so many occurrences: the trajectory of the group; the track of a total solar eclipse; the Wild and Clear and Blue writing and recording sessions; the terrifying and shocking burning of our planet; the rapid return of abject fascism in this country; the consideration of how to be artists – family members, mothers, community builders – amid all of these realities. It’s a bewildering intersection, but one we’ve all become undoubtedly familiar with since 2014… since 2016… since the sun disappeared in 2017 and 2024.
Wild and Clear and Blue is a soundtrack for togetherness. For being present. For capturing the infinitesimal moments that make life what it is. It’s no surprise I’m With Her were able to create such an awe-inspiring and heartening second album with these celestial (and terrestrial) ingredients. It’s impeccable roots music made for bathing in the ancient light, for standing at the fault line, for staring into the wild and clear and blue with courage, with love, and with songs.
And, we’ll be dipping back into the BGS archives for all things I’m With Her throughout the month of May! Each of the trio’s members have been featured as AOTM individually and/or in other groups and we have plenty of playlists, articles, interviews, and even Sitch Sessions to return to featuring their supreme talents. Buckle up for a transcendental Artist of the Month celebration.
(Editor’s Note: To mark the occasion of Bonny Light Horseman’s brand new double LP, Keep Me On Your Mind/See You Free – which were released in June – we invite our readers to be as flies on the wall during a special exclusive interview, an entertaining and joyful conversation between the members of this folk supergroup, Eric D. Johnson, Josh Kaufman, and Anaïs Mitchell.
Read about the band’s memories of their first gigs played for money, about popular bands they don’t really “get,” and so much more below. Plus, dig into their deep and broad discography – together and separately – with our in-depth exploration of their catalog of recordings here.)
Eric D. Johnson: We totally love each other a lot and we spend a lot of time together and we talk about everything, and I know everything about you guys, pretty much. I got some deep shit on you guys!
But, one question that I didn’t know the answer to, because I have a really funny answer for it is, what was the first show that you ever played where you got paid money? Do you remember?
Anaïs Mitchell: Oh wow!
EDJ: Can you guys remember that?
Josh Kaufman: I can remember. I don’t know if it was the very first, but it was certainly early. I played a yogurt shop in Port Jeff. I definitely played a lot of Grateful Dead songs. I think I played “Peggy-O” and like “Friend of the Devil.” I may have tried an ambitious solo acoustic version of “St. Stephen.”
EDJ: Tell me more though, was it a band? Was it you solo? And did you go just under the name Josh Kaufman?
JK: Just me. I don’t know if I was even booked. I don’t know. I may have just shown up.
EDJ: And what was the yogurt shop?
JK: I can’t remember the name of it either. I feel like I have a couple of friends that definitely would remember and definitely were there. That was the ‘90s, that was the era of the yogurt shop. It was basically a cafe, but let’s face it, it was a yogurt shop. I don’t know what I got paid, but I did get paid. I was probably 16; at a yogurt shop playing Grateful Dead songs for money.
AM: I want to see you then, Josh!
EDJ: I totally want to see him! I want to find the bootleg of that show. How did you get hooked up with the yogurt gig?
JK: Well, I was kind of in bed with big yogurt–
EDJ: You’re a big deal going way back–
JK: Going way back now! Well, how did I know about [it]? I think my friend Kevin Jones worked there. I think this is what happened. My friend Kevin Jones worked there, who you guys will meet when we play in California, because he just moved to the Bay Area. He’s going to come to our show. I think they were looking to up their game [at the yogurt shop]. And he was like, “Let’s see what happens. Let’s bring in a professional.” It must have been such a hot mess.
EDJ: I bet you were good from the jump. That’s my guess.
JK: That’s generous.
EDJ: Anaïs, what about you?
AM: I think the first time I made money for music was [when I was] 18 years old and I took a gap year. I was going to go to school, but I took a gap year and then I moved to Boston. You guys know this. I know you know this about me.
JK: You were a waitress.
AM: I was a waitress. Right. At this diner and then later as a waitress at this Cajun/Mexican place, which really sucked. It was in Central Square and I remember I had that job, because I quit it when I realized that I could make money playing in the subway. I could make equal money to what I made as a waitress. Basically, I would go down – I want to say that I played an Ovation Guitar. I’m sorry. [Laughs]
EDJ: Classic! Love this. I’m just gonna say: Ovation Guitar; yogurt shop. Just as visuals.
AM: Totally. [Laughs] I love this. They go together.
JK: You can actually eat yogurt out of an Ovation Guitar.
EDJ: They are designed for eating yogurt out of – in the ‘90s!
AM: I had a little portable [amp], my first amp. I just started playing electric on tour with you guys, but that’s not my first amp. My first amp was a little Crate amp. Do you know what those are? It was bright yellow. And it was cool. For plugging in your Ovation Guitar when you played in the subway, they were amazing.
So I did that. And the cool thing was I was really just getting going. I had written maybe a handful of songs – that I’ve repressed [since]. Like they were really not good, but if you’re playing in the subway, the audience turns over every 10 minutes. I played the same songs. I would just play them again and again. It was mostly my new songs that I had written. And I think I played a couple of folk songs that I learned from the Rise Up Singing folk music bible.
EDJ: But were people like throwing in money? What was your haul? Not because I care that much about money, but I’m just asking, is this your first profesh gig? Do you have your case? Do you have a little hat box?
AM: You got your case open and you put a couple dollars in there. You put like a five [dollar bill] to show people that. You don’t put coins, because then that’s what people put. I actually can’t remember, with inflation, like, what was that? I want to say I would go down there for an hour or two and make fifty to a hundred bucks.
JK: Oh, that’s really good. That sounds really good to me.
AM: That’s why I quit my waitressing job! I was like, this sucks. I’m just gonna do this.
EDJ: You’re 18, what is that, the year 2000?
AM: Or something… it was ‘99. Yes.
EDJ: Okay, sick. With inflation, I think that’s good. I think you did really well
AM: I might be misremembering, might be adjusting for inflation [wrong] in my memory.
JK: I think I got paid, by the yogurt shop, like $46 or something like that, which when I think about it now it’s almost like the tooth fairy or something. I think somebody just felt bad for me. They’re like, “This is 36, 46 bucks, just take it, go.” You know that, “Here’s some gas money.”
EDJ: I like that it was $46.
JK: I don’t think it was $50. I think I’d remember it if it was $50. That would have seemed like a lot of money to me. I will say, the guitar I was playing, Eric, and Anaïs, would have been the same guitar that I still play – the Guild that we made our records with and that Eric played on our recent tour.
AM: I spent some time with that guy.
Eric, I want to hear your story.
EDJ: I got you gonna beat financially by a couple bucks. When I was like 17, my friend Steve and I decided I was going to join Steve’s band just as a singer, but I was too scared to just sing and stand there. I did not know how to play guitar. So, I got a crash course in guitar from Steve. Steve came to one of our shows last summer, I think, or two summers ago when we opened up for [Bruce] Hornsby.
Steve gave me a crash course in guitar, but I didn’t really know how to apply guitar chords to cover songs, you know? I was like, “I guess I’m going to have to write.” I immediately became a songwriter, because I was too dumb to learn how to play a Pink Floyd song or something like that.
All of a sudden we became this folk duo that played a mix of covers and originals, as I was learning chords. I learned how to play some covers. I think “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead was the first – speaking of Grateful Dead, Josh. We played at this cafe in our little downtown of our funny little suburb called Caffe Trieste. It was actually really cool. It was very ‘90s. When I remember it, it smelled like clove cigarettes in there and herbal tea. It was literally a coffee house, like from the old times where you smoke cigarettes and drink coffee at night and watch music. I’m not saying it was like Greenwich Village or something like that, but it was cool.
We would play there, but for no money. That was kind of like open mics and stuff like that. We played “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin and we played “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead. I think we played “Wish You Were Here.” And then we played sort of a smattering of my originals, which were terrible.
But, I was at home [one day] and this is in 1993. My mom was like, “You have a phone call.” And it was some lady and she says, “My daughter, Katie, she’s turning fourteen and she’s a huge fan of your music. And will you play her birthday party?” And I was like, “What?” We don’t have a band or like fans or anything like that. But apparently this girl had seen us at a school assembly – where all we played was the Cheers theme – and she’s turning fourteen. I was like, “What type of money do you usually get for things like this?” But I sort of fumbled and before I could finish and name a price, she was like, “Would $150 be good?”
That was like an unfathomable amount of money. But she also wanted us to play two sets and play for like literally two hours in their living room. We had about 20 minutes worth of material.We went to the house. Her dad owned an automobile dealership, so the house was nice. It was a room full of thirteen and fourteen year old, she was a freshman and we were seniors. I just remember that. So maybe she was turning fifteen.
When we walked in, it was like Beatlemania. They like, screamed and stuff. There were parents, friends, and stuff who were there and they were kind of these wealthy people. My house was very unsophisticated and it felt like we had sort of stepped into this sophisticated realm of our like dumb little suburb. These were the elites! We played our show, only we had not learned more songs in order to play. So we did the Anaïs thing, but without the audience turnover. We just played things over again. And they asked us to play “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles. Then there was a set break and we had no more songs. We went out to Steve’s Jeep and got super high and then came back in and just played literally the same set again and doubled up on “Rocky Raccoon.” We played it four times in one night.
Anaïs Mitchell: What were you wearing? Did you dress up?
EDJ: I’m sure I was wearing something weird. I had a very schizophrenic style at the time. It was the ‘90s! I would wear plaid ‘60s golf pants, but I had this shirt that was a bread truck delivery shirt that had the name “Byron” on it like a name tag. My hair looked like Jason Priestley from 90210. I hadn’t honed my style yet, but I’m sure I just tried to dress up cool.
It was quite a first taste.
AM: That’s amazing. You might be the only band to play “Rocky Raccoon” four times in a show.
JK: The Beatles never played it one time in a show, I don’t think. So you beat the Beatles.
EDJ: Someone asked me this question recently – and you don’t have to answer with a modern band, because it could be more controversial – but what’s a band that’s iconic, that people love, that you’re like, “Not that…”
JK: Oh, Annie has a list of these they’re called like, unimpeachable bands that she doesn’t want to listen to. That she wants to impeach.
AM: I want to know her list!
JK: For instance, I think the Stones are on there. She’s like, “I mean, sure, the Stones are great or whatever, but I don’t want to listen to them.”
EDJ: For the Situation readers, by the way, this is Annie, Josh’s wife [we’re talking about]. Annie Nero.
JK: Yeah! But, for my own… let me think about that for a second.
AM: I have one, maybe. Maybe it’s going to be the same.
EDJ: Mine’s a little bit The Smiths – I actually think that the band sounds great. It’s sort of like The Doors, for me, where I’m not as into the front person [as I am the band], and I have to believe in the front person.
My other one is that I love Bob Dylan, but he’s like my 18th favorite songwriter. It’s still really high up there in the pantheon of songwriters, but probably a very low ranking as far as Dylan goes. I know Dylan’s a big one for you, Josh, but for me I have seventeen others I put above him. That’s an arbitrary number, but yeah.
AM: I was gonna say Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I’d be interested in hearing Annie’s whole list, ’cause I do wanna say, I feel like it’s a gendered thing. I’m not even gonna be eloquent about it, but I do think we have deified certain male artisan bands.
Where it’s like, “Aren’t you into this?” And I’m like, “Actually no.” But I sort of feel like they’re unimpeachable. Like I’m supposed to be like, “Oh yeah, CSNY!!” But my feelings are complex about CSNY, because I love Neil Young and I love Graham Nash. I think it’s really David Crosby – rest in peace – that like, for somehow I’m [hung up on]. I read about how he produced the first Joni Mitchell record and, for me, Joni’s like the top of the totem. Reading about their dynamic, back in the day [is troubling.]
Everyone loved Crosby. She had to kind of be like, “Oh my God, it’s Cros!” You know, but she was Joni Mitchell! I couldn’t really feel that stuff. Yeah, that’s gonna be my band. It’s frustrating.
Sorry, we canceled. [Laughs]
EDJ: No, I think CSNY is a reasonable one!
JK: I was gonna say The Who, honestly. The Who are awesome and everything and certainly there’s ‘60s garage [rock] stuff that’s fun and everything.
EDJ: I think it’s okay to throw fire at those guys. Dylan can take it and be pissed. They can fucking take it!
JK: I guess I feel like that’s lazy of me.
I think Anaïs’ comment about this sort of Mount Rushmore of at the time, early 20s baby boomer white men [was well made]. When they were very young with guitars, for some reason, we’ve decided that those guys are the best.
EDJ: It’s like the Rolling Stone magazine “top 40 cool guys” list. It’s like a mural at a guitar center in suburban Atlanta that you stopped at on tour.
But also Anaïs, sidebar, in my seventeen songwriters above Dylan, Joni Mitchell is my number one, so…
JK: She’s at the top of my list for sure, but I think in the top zone. I don’t know if they’re like tiered necessarily, because since it is art and stuff, it does sort of depend on the opening that I have for it on any given day to enter my heart.
AM: I got a couple more. You guys, this is going to be wild. Well, maybe not. I mean, you guys know me pretty well, because it’s some of these things, the music is undeniable and has shaped other music, but it’s not for me, you know? I would put the Beatles in that category.
JK: I was waiting for you to say that!
AM: I would put both [CSNY and the Beatles] in there. And I sort of appreciate it when I hear it. Like when I hear it coming out of someone’s car or on the radio or whatever, but I will never put that music on myself.
EDJ: I feel like with Beatles, if it didn’t catch you at a certain moment it’s a tough, massive thing to dig into. I didn’t get into Joni until I was 30, and it was like one of the pivotal musical moments of my life.
That’s not to say, “I think you have to be 38 to get into Joni,” but I think for whatever reason, she’s so deep and cool and crazy that I think it took me having a little life behind me to sort of understand what it was about. Someone who had seen clouds from both sides now, like at that point, it hit me like super hard.
I think Beatles, talk about iconography and stuff like that! It’s like, I totally get it. But I can’t. I love the Beatles. It exists in my musical and our band’s musical DNA. I’m never not thinking about like a McCartney melody.
AM: I had some grand thought while you were just saying that, about when you encounter music and when it speaks to you. Because yes, if you’re fourteen, if you’re fifteen discovering Ani DiFranco as I was. She became like my whole raison d’etre, but then for someone discovering her later, at a different time in their life or whatever, it’s different. You had to be a certain age to get the Joni.
And, I wanted to talk about the Grateful Dead because, like the Beatles, I might’ve put them in [this category] if we had spoken a different time, but now I know and love you guys. I sort of became like a late-blooming deadhead, because of your love for the dead. I really got into it and really into the lyrics. I genuinely, really appreciate that music now, in a way that I didn’t like, ten years ago. Part of that is because I love you guys.
I kind of love how your love for people then transfers to your love for the things that they love. And that then becomes a thing that you love.
JK: I totally feel that. I’m not going to name any names here, because I feel like it could be misconstrued, but I do feel like I remember early on going out and opening up for bands with friends and at the beginning of it having already made up my mind about this music or something. But then, getting to know these people intimately over the course of a month and having these accelerated friendships as a result of being around each other every day and sort of falling for what they’re doing a little bit. Or maybe, at least being way more open to it than I ever would have been just hearing it on the radio or hearing it in a friend’s car.
So much music [from] growing up I associate with people that I love, for sure. Getting into Bob Dylan ‘cause I love my dad. At a young age like, “This guy’s obsessed with this guy!” And I guess I’m kind of obsessed with this guy who’s into this guy.
A funny one for me is They Might Be Giants. I love the songwriting of They Might Be Giants and I love that band so much, but I wouldn’t expect one of you guys to get into it now if you weren’t into it when you were fourteen. You know what I mean?
EDJ: I love the point you made Josh, about touring with bands or something, especially in the indie rock days, where you’re really like up in each other’s grills. You bond in a kind of a different way. …
You guys, we have four minutes left. What are your top three favorite foods, Josh.
JK: My top three favorite foods, um… Today I would say, I like Szechuan Chinese food. I like Greek food. And I like Italian food. You know, all the classic Northern Italian things and all the Roman pasta stuff. I mean, who am I kidding, right?
I’m going genres, not dishes, because for me, it’s definitely more about a palette than it is about a specific [dish]. You know, grilled fish and lemon and tomatoes and cucumbers. If I want something in that zone, then I want Greek food. If I want spicy, zingy Szechuan peppercorn, it doesn’t really matter what it is, it could be like shrimp or tofu or chicken, or it could just be string beans. I just get in the mood and go in that direction.
EDJ: Anaïs, what do you got?
AM: I just got so hungry when you described the fish with the lemon and then the tomatoes, Josh. Now that’s what I want. All right. The first thing I’m going to say is Josh’s food. I want not what you just said, but food that Josh Kaufman cooks. I would like the fluffy eggs that you make sometimes. And also one time you whipped up a chicken soup. Do you remember that? You just whipped it up so fast and it was the best chicken soup I’ve ever had.
JK: Oh, I love that. That’s so sweet. I love cooking for you guys.
AM: I also love and I recently had– do you remember the place Wang’s in Park Slope? It’s kind of like fried chicken, Southern stuff, but then also is it Korean?
JK: Korean fried chicken? I think, right?
AM: I had something like that with Ramona, my older daughter recently, and I was like, “Oh my God, this is very delicious.”
Eric, you tell us yours.
EDJ: Oysters, shrimp cocktail, nachos… uh, buffalo wings. And that’s it. Love you guys.
AM: Love you.
EDJ: Love you. Hopefully it’s all turned out awesome and we have so many cool things to talk about. I’ll see yous on Thursday night!
Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, we bring you new music from Sara Watkins featuring her old bandmates from Nickel Creek, newly released tracks from Shakey Graves’ archive, and so much more! Remember to check back every Tuesday for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour.
Sara Watkins recently sat down with BGS to talk about the set of film classics that defined her childhood, and are featured on her new album. With songs like “Pure Imagination” and “Moon River,” this album isn’t just for kids, even if it was first imagined as a collection of lullabies. Instead, it’s a meditative look at these songs which have impacted more than just one generation. And who could forget this classic from the 1980s classic comedy Three Amigos?
Here’s a song about the experience of reading through an old journal and being confronted with your past self — not a particularly comfortable experience. However, for Katie Martucci of The Ladles, it’s a reminder that at any given moment, we only know what we know, and we’re all doing the best we can.
When asked to be a part of a tribute album to singer-songwriter John Lilly, Andrew Adkins knew exactly what song he wanted to sing: one that he’d had a remarkably personal connection to the first time he heard it.
It’s hard to believe that Shakey Graves’ debut album Roll the Bones came out 10 years ago. Since the album’s quiet 2011 release, he’s emerged from the shadows, releasing multiple albums and garnering a substantial following. In celebration of the decade since, Shakey brings us Roll the Bones 10, a deluxe edition which also features 15 unheard songs from the same era as the original album.
Inspired by a trailer park cemetery seen while driving through Florida, this song is more a commentary on life than it is death. Bridget Rian says she has a “fear of being forgotten, of not making a difference” with her life – and this song was a mode of expressing this fear.
Folk legend Peggy Seeger is our Artist of the Month for April here at BGS, and we’re so grateful to have been able to speak with her on her new album First Farewell, her lifelong career in folk music, her hopes for social justice and peace, and much more.
Bluegrass instrumental supergroup Garrison, Gordy, Hargreaves, Walsh have set their fun, rollicking instrumental tune “Sports” to a zany, hand-drawn music video by banjoist Danny Barnes.
Canadian singer-songwriter Donovan Woods recently joined BGS for 5+5 on reading lots of fiction, a memorable London show, writing with Lori McKenna, and more.
Boulder’s The Sweet Lillies bring us their version of a tune originally released by The Stray Birds, a song they chose because they were deeply inspired by its stunning vocal harmonies, its beautiful and meaningful lyrics, and its old-timey structure.
Those who frequent bluegrass festivals in the south may already be familiar with the young savant Giri Peters. Giri and his sister Uma quickly gained popularity in the last number of years for their impeccable musical skills, not to mention at such a young age. Giri, originally known as an up-and-coming mandolinist, has continued to grow as a songwriter and solo artist. His most recent single is a testament to his musical and artistic growth, and brings much promise of an exciting career ahead.
“Human beings are messy emotional creatures,” says June Star’s Andrew Grimm. “Sometimes when we struggle to communicate in relationships it’s because there’s the voice we speak with and that voice in our head. ‘I Don’t Wanna Know’ bounces between a professed love to another person and a confessed loneliness on the inside.”
Miles Gannett heard the melody and some lyrics of this song, including the lines “Thunder River, tumbling down; catch your babes before they drown” in a dream — and it kind of creeped him out. He sat with it for a couple of years before it all came together in this final semi-apocalyptic song.
Photos: (L to R) Shakey Graves by Magen Buse; Sara Watkins by Jacob Boll; Peggy Seeger by Vicki Sharp
Della Mae have shaken up bluegrass and old-time stages for the better part of the last decade, with a mile-long resume that even includes a stint as cultural diplomats with the U.S. State Department. With Headlight, the Boston band’s first full-length album in five years, they’re providing their most powerful statement yet.
Written primarily on retreat at MOXE, a women-owned creative retreat outside of Nashville, the band taps into a more overt kind of activism than we’ve seen from them before, with lyrics that lift up victims of abuse, lend solace to the weary, and offer a single directive in the fight for change: to always keep moving forward.
Produced by Dan Knobler and recorded at Sound Emporium Studios in Nashville, the album features vocal powerhouses like the McCrary Sisters alongside instrumental heavyweights such as keyboardist Jen Gunderman and guitarist Molly Tuttle. Its tracks boast the fast picking and sublime harmonies that Della Mae fans have come to expect. BGS caught up with lead singer and songwriter Celia Woodsmith, discussing the new music and the band’s long record of working for equality in bluegrass and beyond.
BGS: The album opens with “Headlight,” a powerful song about standing up in the face of abuse. What drove you to write it?
Woodsmith: “Headlight” was definitely a hard one to write but it came out really quickly. I had been trying to write a song that could capture this feeling, the #MeToo movement feeling, and nothing was coming out. It really was after Christine Blasey Ford testified in front of Congress that it happened — the song came out in about twenty minutes, a very quick thing. I think I’d finally just had it.
As we [the band] have gotten older and more mature as human beings and as women and as musicians, it’s been easier and easier to not really care what other people think of us. [Laughs] It’s easier to say what we want to say, without fear that we might “ruin our career” or that the backlash will be too hard to handle. Truly, I didn’t write it as a political song, and I didn’t write it as something to divide people. I wrote it as an anthem, an ode to all the women in my life and the women I’ve seen all over the world who have stood up and been brave and been ridiculed for it.
Are there ways that you feel like your fans and your listeners could be “headlights” in their communities?
One of the lyrics is, “No need to be rude, just sit back and listen.” I think right now, especially, we really don’t listen to one another; we don’t want to listen to one another. There are a lot of takeaways that I hope people can grab from this song, but if standing up for women’s rights is beyond them, then I hope that they can just get through the song, just listen to it, just think about it. That’s all I can hope for.
As a listener yourself, what’s something in music in the last year or two that has made you particularly hopeful about what’s to come?
The first thing that comes to mind is the album by The Highwomen — Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, Amanda Shires, and Natalie Hemby. That album, that project, really made me happy. First of all, that these women were badass enough to stand up and say, ‘This is a problem in country music. You don’t play our songs and you don’t play our albums, and we are absolutely going to stick this in your face.”
You have people constantly, your whole life, telling you that you’re “pretty good for a girl.” Believe me, Della Mae has gotten plenty of that. And it’s so frustrating. But when these high-profile women stand up for the rest of us, it elevates all of our voices. To have an album like The Highwomen do so well, be so well done — and by these four powerhouses — made me so hopeful for the future, hopeful that other young women are going to see this same thing and say, yeah, you know what? You should play our music. We are good enough.
Della Mae has been a presence like that for women all over the world, working with the State Department, performing in countries where women might not always see other women on stage. In your travels, were there times when you encountered a bluegrass community in places where people might not expect to find it?
Yeah, absolutely. We have found really amazing bluegrass musicians in Russia, and we’ve found them in the Czech Republic, and we’ve found them in France. Bluegrass is everywhere. It’s quite amazing to me, actually. We met a really amazing three-finger-style banjo player in Uzbekistan. This woman just learned how to do it from YouTube, and we were the first bluegrass musicians she’d ever jammed with.
Another time, these young Russian bluegrass musicians we sat down to pick with asked us to play [one of our songs] “Sweet Verona,” and they played right along with us. It was truly astonishing. That goes to show how small the world is. If you have an internet connection, you can listen to just about whatever you want, and you can learn. Bluegrass is a global thing, it’s everywhere. But it’s everywhere because it’s folk music, and I think that people can really relate to it.
I’ve seen quotes where Della Mae describe Headlight as the album you’ve always wanted to make. What were you enabled or empowered to do here that you haven’t been able to do in the past?
I think that kind of ties back into the “not-giving-a-crap-anymore” thing. We had always been afraid to have drums on an album, we’d always been afraid to plug in, use effects. [Because] we were in bluegrass, and kind of cornered into that genre, it felt like we couldn’t expand our musicianship, because we didn’t want to anger our fans.
We obviously care a lot about our fans, but [now] we think that we can take our fans with us, take them along for the ride. We’ve been playing for ten years. Our fans know that we can play a fiddle tune, and that we can play bluegrass standards. But we can also plug in and rock out and really perform songs that have meaning behind them, and do it with a lot of flair.
Do you think the pressure to adhere to tradition can be an obstacle for bluegrass musicians today?
I think that’s a problem being faced by bluegrass musicians, I think especially young musicians, but I think it’s getting better. Alison Brown, an absolute legend on the banjo, said it last year in her IBMA keynote speech: Change is coming to bluegrass, whether or not they want it. We have to start opening our arms more to different expressions of bluegrass.
There can be traditional bluegrass — that’s fine — but if someone has drums, or someone plugs in, or someone plays in an untraditional way, that doesn’t mean that we have to eliminate them completely from the genre. If we do that, then bluegrass music will slowly start to die. People won’t want to play it when they can’t play around with it, when they can’t give to it their own expression and their own creativity.
Recently I think there’s more openness to what bluegrass is, as opposed to what it isn’t. People will always say, “Well, that’s not bluegrass, they don’t have a fiddle,” or, “That’s not bluegrass, they don’t have a banjo.” More often lately, though, it’s been more like, “Oh, these musicians can play bluegrass, but they can also play a bunch of other stuff.” It’s better to celebrate that than to distance yourself.
Your new song “The Long Game” tackles the idea of temporary sacrifice for an ultimate goal. What are some of your challenges in playing the long game, and what keeps you looking forward?
We’re very lucky that this is our career, that we can travel around the world, meet people, write songs. But the day-to-day stuff is really hard. You’re kind of coaching yourself — “Just drink another cup of coffee and you’ll be fine.” When you’ve been a band for ten years, a lot of interpersonal stuff comes up. You may lose members over the years. We’ve had members turn over, and each time it’s difficult. It’s always the closing of a chapter, and then moving on a new way of thinking about Della Mae.
I love this band, and I love the women I play with, and I feel so grateful that we’re able to do this together. We’re really a family and a team, so I think that’s part of the long game, too — accepting change and learning to deal with it in a positive way, as opposed to a negative way. You’re always going to have surprises along the road, and you’ve just got to, well, keep playing the long game.
Hungry for new music? Here’s another serving of The Highwomen, harmonizing effortlessly on “Crowded Table.” A co-write with Lori McKenna and band members Brandi Carlile and Natalie Hemby, it’s from their upcoming self-titled album, produced by Dave Cobb and set for a September 6 release. (Take a look at the track listing at the bottom of the story.)
The band, of course, is composed of Carlile, Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires. But who else is crowded around the table? Sheryl Crow, Jason Isbell, and Yola are all confirmed to appear on the album, as well as Carlile’s longtime musical partners Phil Hanseroth (bass, background vocals) and Tim Hanseroth (guitar, background vocals), Chris Powell (drums) and Peter Levin (piano and keyboards).
Look for The Highwomen this weekend at Newport Folk Festival, their only scheduled appearance.
1. “Highwomen” (written by Brandi Carlile, Amanda Shires, Jimmy Webb) 2. “Redesigning Women” (written by Natalie Hemby, Rodney Clawson) 3. “Loose Change” (written by Maren Morris, Maggie Chapman, Daniel Layus) 4. “Crowded Table” (written by Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Lori McKenna) 5. “My Name Can’t Be Mama” (written by Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris, Amanda Shires) 6. “If She Ever Leaves Me” (written by Amanda Shires, Jason Isbell, Chris Thompkins) 7. “Old Soul” (written by Maren Morris, Luke Dick, Laura Veltz) 8. “Don’t Call Me” (written by Amanda Shires, Peter Levin) 9. “My Only Child” (written by Natalie Hemby, Amanda Shires, Miranda Lambert) 10. “Heaven Is A Honky Tonk” (written by Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Ray LaMontagne) 11. “Cocktail And A Song” (written by Amanda Shires) 12. “Wheels Of Laredo” (written by Brandi Carlile, Tim Hanseroth, Phil Hanseroth)
Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen
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