Tag: T Bone Burnett

Ashley Monroe’s Patchwork Quilt:
Tennessee Lightning

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“Let me look at your radar,” Ashley Monroe says, pulling out her phone. “I have all kinds of radar apps on here: 24-hour flight radar, storm trackers…” She types in my location. “Yep, it just popped up red,” she says, forebodingly.

We’re speaking over Zoom about her album Tennessee Lightning and, fittingly, a massive storm is rumbling through New York, with loud thunderclaps sending a jolt through our conversation. Monroe is calling from an apartment in West Nashville, which she rents as a creative space in a building shared by fellow musicians and friends Meg McRee, Ben Chapman, and Lukas Nelson. The weather in Nashville is calm for now, but there’s always the chance another tempest could be brewing.

“For a while there I was like, someone’s gotta get me a bunker. ASAP,” she says.

Tennessee Lightning is her sixth studio album (not including the four she’s released as part of supergroup Pistol Annies alongside Miranda Lambert and Angaleena Presley) and her first since 2021’s Rosegold. The latter found her sloughing off the classic country sounds that defined her early work and embracing trap beats and synthy pop moments. Shortly after the release of Rosegold, Monroe underwent treatment for a rare form of blood cancer, a life-altering experience that she’s still processing. Now in remission, she feels newly awash in creative inspiration, breaking the creative silence that immediately followed her diagnosis.

The resulting album, her second as co-producer with GRAMMY-winning producer and engineer Gena Johnson, is a sprawling, 17-song “patchwork quilt” of songs that range from gritty rockers to moony love songs to bracingly stripped-down piano ballads. It’s less story-song-heavy than her beloved early work, but Monroe says that the album – a mix of new and older originals, along with a few carefully chosen covers – is as personal and revealing as anything she’s ever recorded.

“With every song on this record, I feel and see my own personal story in it,” she says. “Maybe I just didn’t need to put the third parties in this time.”

The release of Tennessee Lightning dovetails with the tenth anniversary of The Blade, Monroe’s GRAMMY-nominated 2015 album, which she recently celebrated with an intimate show at The Basement East and it remains fresh on her mind. She spoke to Good Country about her rootsy new sound, whether it’s safe to call this her Americana turn, and how music helps her weather life’s most painful storms.

I’m curious about the title of the album. It’s interesting, because in many ways, this feels like a homecoming, but then it’s also quite different from your earlier music. How did Tennessee Lightning start coming together?

Ashley Monroe: There’s actually a song called “Tennessee Lightning” that I wrote with Shelby Lynne and Jedd Hughes. It’s awesome, but by the end we had over 25 songs and it wasn’t fitting the album anymore. And at that point, it’s almost like Tennessee Lightning had become me, in a way. It’s just a zap of like, “This is everything. Boom.” Gena Johnson is the co-producer and engineer on this record and a dear friend. The two of us loaded up a ton of gear a couple years ago and rented a cabin in East Tennessee. We went to my dad’s grave, we went to see my Granny and Poppy and drove the back roads in Tazewell, Tennessee. We just immersed ourselves in going back to the roots of it all.

We set up the studio there and she recorded me on the front porch, she recorded me in the yard. We started recording “I’m Gonna Run,” which is a song I wrote in 2004, on the same trip as I wrote “Satisfied” and “Used.” We started with that song, and I was really trying not to overthink anything. I was just letting whatever songs needed to come through, come through. I always say this album is like a patchwork quilt of my life, and that applies to my friends that I’ve asked to play on this record: T Bone Burnett, Butch Walker, Brendan Benson, Marty Stuart, Brittney Spencer, Karen Fairchild. I made a joke the other day, “I’ve called in so many favors, I’m going to have to make new friends to call it more favors.”

I think people may be tempted to call this your Americana record. How do you feel about that?

Great. I’ll take that. Americana has been good to me. A lot of Americana radio stations played “Hands on You” when no one else would, and a lot of other songs. So that’s good company.

Also, I’m from East Tennessee, so no one can really hear my voice and say that I’m not country. It’s just there in the accent and the tenor of it. It’s Appalachia. That’s why I think it’s cool to not do something obvious sometimes, to not cut yourself short or shave the edges off. “I’m Gonna Run” reminds me of when Emmylou did Wrecking Ball, just those weird things she did that I love so much. I’ll take Americana all day.

The sound of this record is quite varied as well.

I guess Tennessee Lightning has different types, but it’s all real musicians, it’s all organic. “Amen Love” I was writing with Ashley Ray and Summer Overstreet, whose dad wrote “Forever and Ever Amen.” We wrote the song for Miley Cyrus, and Ashley’s husband recorded the demo. The song ended up not getting cut, but it just kept haunting me. I always like to do a sexy one, like “Hands on You” and “Wild Love,” so I thought it made sense for the young love part of the record.

Then there’s just me and Marty Stuart and Shelby Lynne on “The Touch,” and that’s as country as anything I’ve done. Gena was really good at getting the raw edges and the breaths and everything. “There You Are” was recorded in one take. It’s just me and the piano. I never did it again in the studio, ever. And then there are other songs that are more polished or have different instrumentation, but Tennessee Lightning to me is like a flash of everything. It’s not just one part; it’s all parts.

I’m wondering if maybe not chasing the country radio thing anymore freed you to explore all these different sounds.

I’m sure it did, even though I will say every label I’ve been on – Columbia, then RCA, then Warner LA and Warner Nashville – I’ve been lucky to have label people who were great at the creative part. My first single was “Satisfied,” which didn’t work, but I love that they chose that. Cris Lacy at Warner was also great at helping me pick songs. I didn’t think anyone would like “Hands on You,” but she heard the work tape and convinced me to record it.

When I got dropped by Warner, I thought to myself, “Now I can do anything.” And it’s been fun to explore. Gena is good about feeling when the spirit is moving through. She knows I like to sing in the dark or with candles. We shut the blinds, and I get to sit in that zone, and she captures it. It’s emotional, it’s raw, and I like recording like that without having to think, “What’s the label gonna say?”

You’ve been called a critical darling pretty much throughout your career. With Rosegold, it seemed like the first time the response was more tentative – warmly received, but not quite as glowing from everyone, particularly the “real country” crowd. Did the response to that record influence your approach to this one?

I really didn’t think about that at all, so that’s interesting. Honestly, though, what I will do next is a honky-tonk record. I know my band, and I know exactly what I’m going to do, which is honky-tonk it to the depths. I haven’t done a live thing like that, and I like switching it up. In my mind, what makes a memorable artist, a true artist, is when everything doesn’t sound exactly the same. Tennessee Lightning just felt like, “What are you feeling? What is it?” It’s cool when art reflects what you’re going through at the time, and for me going back to my roots will always have that earthiness.

I’m thankful for all the great reviews and the “critical darling” thing means a lot, especially as someone who doesn’t win awards or get nominated or included, really, in any circle. I’m okay with that, in a way, because I have a certain confidence — I know I have a gift. I know some people will feel it and some people won’t, but no one can deny I’m doing what I was put on this earth to do. I don’t put too much value on what people think of me, especially now after what I’ve been through. I won’t lose sleep over what a critic thinks.

Another thing that came up with Rosegold was this idea of protecting your joy, of not wanting to feel sadness anymore. Tennessee Lightning has songs that are more cutting – “There You Are” almost feels like it could be on The Blade. It made me wonder if your relationship to your art and this idea of protecting your joy changed between this album and the last one.

You know, when I got pregnant was really the first time I thought, “I’ve got to be careful about what enters here.” That doesn’t mean being delusional or not knowing that things can happen, will happen. Of course, something can always come along and bring you to your knees. But it’s about knowing when everything’s okay and shining a light on it and letting it radiate for a little bit. Rosegold was about hyperfocusing on the good and just letting it beam out for a split second.

I don’t mind if music is sad. I kind of prefer it. With this one, there are some sweet love songs, but also not all these songs are new. “My Favorite Movie” was one Vince [Gill] and I wrote in 2015 around The Blade time. He had it on one of his records, and just never did my version of it. “Hot Rod Pipedream” was written in 2015 or 2016, and “Risen Road” was from around the same time.

Let’s talk about The Blade, which just celebrated its tenth anniversary. You played the album through at a show in Nashville recently. What was it like revisiting those songs?

It was so special because I hadn’t really sung those songs. I’m funny about that – I don’t go back and listen to my old records. It’s not like you forget, but you do move on. Singing those songs, even at rehearsal, I got so emotional.

Did any of the songs in particular hit you differently this time?

I was thinking “I Buried Your Love Alive.” I literally felt thunder. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a ghost in that one. “Bombshell,” too. At the show I was thinking about how relevant it still is. I still understand the emotion in that song.

In the commentary you recorded at the time, you mentioned that “Bombshell” could be about a few different scenarios. It struck me that you said it could be about a breakup, but it could be about telling someone you have cancer.

I remember that. I forgot until you started to say that, but it’s so true. It’s that feeling of like, “This is big news, and it’s going to blow up life as I know it.” It was definitely a bombshell, and then I had to tell people I had cancer.

I was diagnosed in 2021, and when I came into Tennessee Lightning, I knew that I had to step back and reflect. I had to look back at the whole picture. I had someone ask me in an interview recently why I didn’t sing about cancer on the album. It’s like, I don’t want to think about cancer. Music to me is my holy, sacred place. Even though I sing about painful things and I can keep those emotions with me, I didn’t want to think about it enough to write a song about it. Maybe it’s that cancer has already robbed so much from me. I mean, it killed my dad. It’s already affected me, my family. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet. In a way I’m pretending it didn’t happen.

The only place on the record where I did feel the cancer feeling or acknowledgement of my emotions around it was “Jesus, Hold My Hand.” I used to sing that song when I was really young and feeling scared. I really felt it because when I was really sick, with chemo and everything, I felt as close as I ever have to that feeling of handing it over or surrender. It was like I was leaning on the spirit more than ever before.

The hymn is such a stunning moment, in a way that feels different from what you’ve done before. There are a lot of religious references in your songs, but there’s also this thread of religious guilt, particularly on the Pistol Annies songs “Beige” and “Leavers Lullaby.” There’s a lyric in the latter, “It’s as deep as the water that stains me” that comes to mind. Would you say your relationship to your faith has changed?

I can’t speak for the other Annies, but for me the “bite” in those songs is directed toward the people rather than about the pureness of it. The judgment and sending people to hell thing. I grew up with the Bible Belt and I think Jesus has a sense of humor and a lot of church people don’t. With “Risen Road,” it’s like, “You can read the Bible, quote it verse for verse/ You can steal a pain pill out of Mama’s purse.” And when I say “you,” I mean me, because I would do that. I think there’s something to being humble enough to say, “I can believe in God and still be exactly who I am.”

I wanted to ask about that line on “Risen Road,” which of course caught my attention. Between this song, “Best Years of My Life” and of course “Takin’ Pills,” pain pills have become something of a motif in your work. Why is that?

Well, because I was on pain pills for a long, long, long time. My dad died when I was 13, and at the time I was very straitlaced. All my family lived on the same road, we went to church, nobody cussed, nobody drank, nobody smoked. After my dad died, my mom kind of disappeared with a guy. She had a nervous breakdown, really, looking back. He died in February 2000, and she was gone by June.

Looking back, I was flailing. I was devastated, and my mom wasn’t around, and then my brother started having wild, wild parties and I was like, “Hell, I might as well. Give me a Zigma.” Everyone around me had pills and I’d say, “Give me a pill.” I was probably 14 or 15 and my cousin and I would keep a mirror under the front seat and snort oxycontin. Not oxycodone. Oxycontin. It’s a miracle I’m still alive, because I didn’t even know what that was. I just knew that it numbed me out. And, in all fairness, I needed numbing out. I’m not saying it’s the right thing to do, but sometimes, if you can just stay alive – and thank God I did – these things will get you through.

Honestly, though, I don’t think I was ever hooked on them. I’ve never had trouble giving up something when I know I need to. I was on them in my 20s a lot and I was drinking a lot at the time. And then, you know, I OD’d at Saddle Ranch in LA. Like, they thought I was dead. I was like, “Are you crazy? You survive all of that and then let a pill take you out?” So, after that, I quit taking them. But, you know, I took them after my C-section. I took all of them. I just think different people are wired differently and I do think it’s kind of funny now.

“She’s on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take.” I was.

“She likes to pop her pain pills with every little ache.” I did.

It’s interesting, what you said about wanting to feel numb, because the songs that you wrote during that time had so much pain in them. They really cut.

Well, music’s always been where I let my pain seep out. When my dad died, I remember holding my guitar and sitting at the edge of my waterbed, and it was like the guitar was saving my life. It was keeping me together. And I still use music like that – I pour out pain that I don’t even know is in there sometimes. The pain pills don’t get you all the way numb. They get you numb for about 25 minutes, and I needed those 25 minutes back then.

Photo Credit: Erika Rock

BGS Receives IBMA Distinguished Achievement Award

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: On Thursday, September 28, 2023, BGS contributor, musician, songwriter, and bluegrass industry leader Jon Weisberger presented BGS with IBMA’s Distinguished Achievement Award at the organization’s annual business conference. Below, enjoy Weisberger’s award presentation speech, adapted for print, and photos from the Industry Awards luncheon.)

The International Bluegrass Music Association’s Distinguished Achievement Award was created as the organization’s first honor, just a year after its 1985 founding. Among the first recipients were Bill Monroe, gospel songwriter Albert E. Brumley, and (now-BGS contributor) Neil V. Rosenberg.

After 1991, when the Hall of Honor (now the Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame) was established, the DAA became a way to recognize a variety of accomplishments — a lifetime of achievement for many recipients, but also activities taking place in more compressed timespans, as when the Coen Brothers and T Bone Burnett were recipients in 2001 for the singular act of creating the film, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, and the accompanying soundtrack album. And while most of the recipients are people, some are entities, like WSM’s Grand Ole Opry (2000), the Station Inn (2003), and Bluegrass Unlimited magazine (2016).

Country Gongbang, of South Korea, perform during the IBMA Industry Awards Luncheon. (Photo by Rob Laughter)

Either way, the award criteria direct the selection committee to consider those who “have fostered bluegrass music’s image with developments that will broaden the music’s recognition and accessibility.” Further, the award criteria state, “Their contributions should be unique given the relative period of time in which they were made and should embody the spirit of one who pioneers or opens new possibilities for the music.” These are descriptions that fit the Bluegrass Situation perfectly.

Having celebrated its 10th anniversary just last year, this site contains an extensive amount of material that recalls a multitude of highlights from that first decade. So rather than recount them, I chose, when presenting the award—an invitation for which I’m deeply grateful — to recognize what Ed Helms, Amy Reitnouer Jacobs, their dedicated staff and many contributors have done to broaden the music’s recognition and accessibility and open new possibilities for the music is to look at why these things are important and how they have met the challenge.

For more than 50 years, bluegrass music has been dependent, for the renewal of its audiences and of its musicians, on exposure beyond its cloistered garden. From The Beverly Hillbillies through the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Circle album through the mainstream success of Ricky Skaggs and Alison Krauss to O Brother and, more recently, artists like Molly Tuttle and Billy Strings, our music has needed not only community-building institutions that cater to those already familiar with it, but a plethora of vehicles that expose new audiences to this music.

BGS executive director Amy Reitnouer Jacobs reacts to Jon Weisberger’s DAA presentation. Justin Hiltner, managing editor, looks on. (Photo by Willa Stein)

This is how many people, including many in the IBMA, first became aware of bluegrass, and in the past decade, no one has done more to introduce this music to new audiences than the Bluegrass Situation. By covering the broad range of roots music under its “bluegrass” rubric, and by insisting on presenting the full range of bluegrass music and musicians in all their diversity, the Sitch has invited hundreds of thousands into the fold — and the same is true of the events the Bluegrass Situation has organized and sponsored.

Indeed, one of the Sitch’s distinctive contributions has been its dual role as a chronicler of the broad array of bluegrass and related musical artists and as a presenter, bringing the artists and the music they make directly to audiences. Especially through its curated stages at major music festivals, the Bluegrass Situation has introduced thousands — tens of thousands by now — to artists like bluegrass Hall of Famers Ricky Skaggs, Del McCoury, and Sam Bush.

Amy Reitnouer Jacobs speaks to the Industry Awards Luncheon audience. (Photo by Dan Schram)

In this way, the Sitch has spent more than a decade devoted both to the important work of bringing a wide variety of roots music to audiences across the country and around the world, and to the important work of bringing the whole array of bluegrass artists, from Larry Sparks, Junior Sisk, Michael Cleveland, and High Fidelity to the Infamous Stringdusters, Leftover Salmon, Molly Tuttle, and Billy Strings to the attention of those attracted to the Sitch’s website and events by its coverage and presentation of all the other roots music artists within their purview. So, someone who visits the site to read an Allison Russell feature has an opportunity to learn about Lynn Morris, while another who attends the Bourbon & Beyond festival to see The Black Keys might have their ear caught by the sound of Dan Tyminski or The Cleverlys performing on the Sitch’s curated stage.

These are the kinds of connections — and the kind of day in, day out, year in and year out work — that, in the words of the Distinguished Achievement Award criteria, “broaden the music’s recognition and accessibility.” These are the ways in which bluegrass is able to draw in new generations of fans — and new generations of musicians and industry activists, too. For more than 10 years, now, Ed Helms, Amy Reitnouer Jacobs and the Bluegrass Situation have been doing the work, and all of us in the bluegrass community have benefitted from their efforts. It gave me great pleasure to present them with this award.

L to R: Justin Hiltner, Amy Reitnouer Jacobs, Jon Weisberger at the 2023 IBMA Industry Awards Luncheon. (Photo by Willa Stein)

Photos by Rob Laughter, Dan Schram, and Willa Stein as noted; Lead image of Hiltner, Reitnouer Jacobs, and Weisberger by Dan Schram; All photos courtesy of IBMA.

Basic Folk – Sam Phillips

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Sam Phillips was born to a family that loved doling out nicknames. She was called “Sam” growing up in a house that was filled with readers. She nurtured her love of philosophy and spirituality by exploring different religions and devouring works by authors like C.S. Lewis and Thomas Merton. Early in her career, she found success as a Christian musician under her real name: Leslie Phillips. She made several albums, but became uncomfortable with her label marketing her as “the Christian Cyndi Lauper.” She also had a desire to write songs that didn’t reinforce people’s religious beliefs. For her final Leslie Phillips album, she worked with future spouse/ex-spouse, T-Bone Burnett, “a fellow Christian with a maverick approach to songs about faith and morality,” and found a kindred spirit. She decided to rebrand and start recording as Sam Phillips. Sam and T-Bone worked together from 1988’s The Indescribable Wow to 2004’s A Boot and a Shoe.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3

In our conversation, we talk about Sam’s writing process, which she is always changing up. She comes up with her best ideas when she “turns off the trying part of her brain,” but at the same time, she strongly believes in the power of editing. Sam’s probably best known for composing and performing the score for the beloved Amy Sherman-Palladino series Gilmore Girls, for which she also made a brief appearance on the season finale in 2006. You remember those “La la la’s” while Lorelei and Rory carried around their armpit purses, and drank coffee while wearing those horrible boot cut jeans? That was Sam Phillips! Currently, Sam is working on a new album and she’s taking her time, so don’t rush her, OK?

Photo Credit: Eric Gorfain

Basic Folk – Adia Victoria

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

For Adia Victoria, the blues are not just a genre of music or a set of formal elements. She lives the blues. In her life and work the blues are a mode of creating, a river-tradition into which she steps with each performance, and a way back into self-acceptance. Adia has traveled the world and infused her unique songwriting with Paris and New York as much as with her home state of Tennessee.

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Adia has released three studio albums, working with producers like T Bone Burnett and The National’s Aaron Dessner. In her climb to indie stardom she has remained laser focused on interpreting the blues tradition for contemporary audiences.

My conversation with Adia came shortly after we finished a whirlwind North American tour this spring, and it felt like we were back in the tour van just shooting the shit. Transparent and hilarious, Adia challenged me to go as deep in conversation as she does in her songs.

Photo Credit: Huy Nguyen

LISTEN: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, “High and Lonesome”

Posted on by Editor

Artists: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
Song: “High and Lonesome” (written by Robert Plant and T Bone Burnett)
Album: Raise the Roof
Release Date: November 19, 2021
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “It’s such a far cry from everything I’ve done before. I love the whole kaleidoscope of music that I’ve explored, but this is a place where you can think within the song, you can decide how to bring home an emotion. It’s another blend that we’ve got, and long may we have more of them.” — Robert Plant

“One of my favorite parts of this is the songs and songwriters that I had never heard of. Working with Robert, and with T Bone, is always a great education in music history.” — Alison Krauss

Editor’s Note: Plant and Krauss’ 2007 album, Raising Sand, won six Grammy Awards. Like its predecessor, Raise the Roof was produced by T Bone Burnett, and features twelve new recordings of songs by legends and unsung heroes such as Merle Haggard, Allen Toussaint, The Everly Brothers, Anne Briggs, Geeshie Wiley, Bert Jansch, and more. The collection also includes “Can’t Let Go,” written by Randy Weeks and first recorded by Lucinda Williams.

Photo credit: David McClister

LISTEN: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, “Can’t Let Go”

Posted on by Editor

Artists: Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
Song: “Can’t Let Go”
Album: Raise the Roof
Release Date: November 19, 2021
Label: Rounder Records

In Their Words: “We wanted it to move. We brought other people in, other personalities within the band, and coming back together again in the studio brought a new intimacy to the harmonies.” — Alison Krauss

“You hear something and you go ‘Man, listen to that song, we got to sing that song!’ It’s a vacation, really — the perfect place to go that you least expected to find.” — Robert Plant

Editor’s Note: Plant and Krauss’ 2007 album, Raising Sand, won six Grammy Awards. Like its predecessor, Raise The Roof was produced by T Bone Burnett, and features twelve new recordings of songs by legends and unsung heroes including Merle Haggard, Allen Toussaint, The Everly Brothers, Anne Briggs, Geeshie Wiley, Bert Jansch and more. The collection also includes a Plant-Burnett original, “High and Lonesome,” and “Can’t Let Go,” written by Randy Weeks and first recorded by Lucinda Williams.

Photo credit: Frank Melfi

A New Generation of Bluegrass Stars Reflect on ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’

Posted on by Editor

The soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou? was a phenomenon in the early 2000s, turning bluegrass musicians into superstars and creating an instant mainstream market for old-time music — from folk to gospel to children’s songs to prison chants to blues and everything in between. To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of its astonishing success and to wrap up our Artist of the Month series, we spoke to several musicians about the impact O Brother and its subsequent tours had on their lives and livelihoods.

Sierra Hull: “I grew up in a little town with maybe 900 people, and there used to be a poster section at the Walmart the next town over. You could flip through the posters and there would be pop stars like Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys. I was always convinced that one day I would find an Alison Krauss poster in there. She was as popular in my little kid brain as Britney Spears. So it was cool when O Brother came out and elevated some of those people who were already giants to me, like Alison and Dan Tyminski and Ralph Stanley.

“I was already playing, but I was too young to be touring yet. By the time Cold Mountain came out [in 2003], I was part of that tour. Alison was part of both soundtracks, and she invited my brother and me to go on that tour. So we got to help celebrate that second wave. I was 12, and it was really the first time for me to be out on tour, travel to so many different places, and play Red Rocks and the Beacon Theater in New York. Standing at the side of the stage and listening to Alison sing to hundreds of people every night every night was one of my favorite memories.

“It was amazing to watch people go crazy over Ralph Stanley every night. He had this dazzled suit jacket that he wore every night. Sometimes he would sit his banjo down while his band played and take that jacket off and throw it to me at the side of the stage. I would get to wear that dazzled jacket at the end of the show when everybody came out on stage. It’s one of the most special musical experiences I’ve ever had.”

Sara Watkins: “O Brother was something we somehow became affiliated with. Nickel Creek had just released our band’s first record on Sugar Hill, after years of doing just little homemade projects. Alison Krauss produced it, which had been out maybe a year and a half when O Brother came out. She was a big part of that soundtrack, of course, so our band was gaining a little bit of notoriety. I remember reading a huge New York Times spread, and we were listed among the people on that scene. We were part of that conversation, despite not having been part of the soundtrack in any way. We were just at the right place at the right time, and the awareness of the bluegrass scene just exploded. We were able to reach a different level very quickly. It was a huge advantage to our career. We already had some momentum, but the soundtrack really put the wind in our sails.

“T Bone Burnett [who produced the album], one of his brilliant skills is finding the right people for the right song. He brought in some incredible musicians in a way that really showed the musicianship in our community and made everyone really proud of our scene. We saw our heroes up there, and it was gratifying to see them celebrated by a huge audience. I remember feeling a new respect for Ralph Stanley with that vocal [on ‘Oh Death’]. That actually turned me on to shape-note singing. Someone told me his delivery was reminiscent of those old communities that did shape-note singing and those old preachers who used to sing that way. I’d never heard anything like it. And to this day, whenever I see Dan Tyminski, I make a point to stick around until he plays ‘Man of Constant Sorrow.’ No way I’m leaving before then.”

Dave Wilson (Chatham County Line): “I remember going with our old bass player to see O Brother in the theater. We snuck a bottle of whiskey in and sat in the back row and just laughed and drank. I remember thinking, ‘Bluegrass has arrived!’ We were already a band and playing small gigs around town, but we weren’t at a place where we had dedicated our lives to it. So it was kismet for us. That record came out, and the scene just exploded. Suddenly we had this huge advertisement out there in the world for the style of music we were playing. We definitely noticed a change. There were more strangers coming to see us play gigs, and they were really excited about it. One side effect was people would yell out for us to play ‘Man of Constant Sorrow.’ They did it enough to make me wonder if they had heard the soundtrack or just seen the movie. But we never played it. We didn’t know how! It would have probably shut them up if we had!

“I really got into the record. There are some badass arrangements on there. And it’s not corny. It’s not super traditional. I love that they reached out to the right people. It could have been bad. They could have gotten Toby Keith or someone like that. Oh god, I don’t even want to think about that! One of my favorite parts is that blues song by Chris Thomas King [a cover of Skip James’ ‘Hard Time Killing Floor’]. It makes for such a special moment. Later, they booked that concert film [Down from the Mountain, recorded at the Ryman Auditorium] at our old classic movie theater here in town, and I remember the boys going to see it and we were all just floored. That was almost bigger than the movie as far as having an impact in the folk music scene.”

Sam Amidon: “People in the folk world can be very protective of the music, which I think is valid. But my inclination is that if I find something I’m excited about, I want to share it. I want people to know about it. To have grown up in a world knowing a lot of the corners O Brother explores, it was beautiful to think about how many people all of a sudden were going to discover these field recordings and these great musicians. And I was thankful because until then, portrayals of traditional music in the mass media had just been so bad and so clichéd or so simplistic. Nothing had depicted this stuff on this scale before. Before then, if you told somebody you played banjo, they would think Deliverance. That was their frame of reference.

“For O Brother to do it without messing it up was a miracle. To see these different corners of American music — beyond just blues and bluegrass as the two major industry terms — was a very positive thing, especially because ‘folk music’ can be such a heterogeneous category. Nobody would even really know what you were talking about if it wasn’t bluegrass or blues. O Brother pointed to all of these different areas. It’s singing games and banjo songs and all these different things. O Brother is weirdly inclusive. It cast a wide net. Nowadays it’s easy to go to the soundtrack and hear more problematic elements of the whole Americana genre thing, but I think it’s good to remember that when it first came along, it was much more nuanced compared to what had come before.”

Woody Platt (Steep Canyon Rangers): “It’s interesting that the twentieth anniversary of O Brother is fairly parallel to the twentieth anniversary of our band. We formed in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, when we were seniors in college, right when the movie came out. We all had been exposed to bluegrass and old-time just by being Carolinians. We all had that music around when we were growing up, but none of us in the band really dove into it until we were in college. We’d only been following that music a few years when the movie came out. I’m not sure we were aware at the time of the impact that the movie and the tour had on bluegrass, old-time, string band, mountain music, but we could feel some excitement when we were playing bars on Franklin Street, which is the main drag in Chapel Hill. But we didn’t really have anything to compare it to. There was no before or after. It was just what we were doing, and that’s all we knew.

“I really enjoyed the movie, but I was a big fan of the album. Hearing Ralph Stanley’s voice in a film, or Dan Tyminski’s, or just seeing people I admired in that movie was pretty incredible. Looking back on it, it was good timing for us to be getting off the ground, and we were having so much fun and finding so much joy in it. The music we were playing had been a small niche, but all of a sudden it had this national interest. I have no doubt in my mind that the awareness of the music was fueled by the movie. It’s a fascinating phenomenon to think about, because it wasn’t marketed in any significant way. It just happened. It was just this thing where people were suddenly into this music.”

Molly Tuttle: “The movie came out when I was seven years old, and I remember my dad showing it to me when I was in grade school. I loved it, and the music really stuck with me because I already had an affinity for bluegrass and old-time music. Seeing it performed in a movie was new and exciting. My dad teaches bluegrass for a living, and when the movie came out, he had an influx of new students.

“It’s had a lasting impact on the popularity of bluegrass music. But I was so young that I didn’t know many of the musicians on the soundtrack by name, so it introduced me to a lot of artists who later became my favorites. And the Down from the Mountain documentary further familiarized me with people like Emmylou Harris and Alison Krauss. Many of those artists, like Gillian Welch and John Hartford, have been big influences on me, and that was my introduction to their music. I’ve performed ‘I’ll Fly Away’ and ‘Angel Band’ a number of times, and I got to do ‘Man of Constant Sorrow’ with Dan Tyminski at the IBMA awards one year.”

Dom Flemons: “I actually saw Ralph Stanley on the O Brother tour in Flagstaff, Arizona, in the year 2000. It was at this random high school. I saw the poster on a telephone pole when I was going to college there. I’d started playing the banjo by that point — six-string and four-string banjo, guitar, and harmonica. I remember the place was really packed out, and he gave this amazing performance. I just loved watching the man at work. When he sang ‘Oh Death,’ he pulled this piece of paper out of his pocket, put on his glasses, and made a joke about how old he was. And he just sang it off this piece of paper and blew our minds.

“O Brother was very interesting, and I think it’s still a milestone album for several generations. A lot of the old folks who played those old styles and sang those old songs were starting to pass away, so the soundtrack ended up being a perfect vehicle for getting younger people into the music of the ‘20s and ‘30s. It reminded people of the really good old recordings that were available. That’s where I went. I found the old RCA Victor and Columbia recordings, and that was it for me.

“It’s a perfectly structured record, opening with the prisoners on the chain gang and then it goes to that beautiful ‘Big Rock Candy Mountain.’ And then you get into “You Are My Sunshine” with Norman Blake, and then Chris Thomas King presenting ‘Hard Time Killing Floor.’ That in itself was a revival of Skip James. People talk about Ghost World and Devil Got My Woman, but I think O Brother got it going. People just started casually bringing those songs back in at shows and festivals, and it seemed like a lot more people knew them. Of course they would sing them like the recordings on O Brother. Those are just things I observed before I was a professional musician, and it was amazing to see.”

 

‘O Brother, Where Art Thou?’ Created an Instant Audience for Old-Time Music

Posted on by Editor

The O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack, which was just starting to pick up momentum twenty years ago this winter, was both a forethought and an afterthought. The Coen Brothers had an idea for a film and even a title borrowed from Preston Sturges’ 1940 comedy, Sullivan’s Travels, but no screenplay. They commissioned T Bone Burnett to assemble a sprawling playlist of old-time music for them to use as writing prompts — original recordings from the first half of the twentieth century as well as new recordings of old songs. He gathered some of the finest vocalists and players, including Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss, and members of Union Station, as well as Norman Blake, Sam Bush, and John Hartford. In various combinations they produced around sixty tracks covering hillbilly plaints, gospel numbers, Protestant hymns, children’s songs, labor songs, even prison songs.

From that pool the Coens selected a handful of tracks that served as the skeleton for their screenplay, which became a Deep South retelling of The Odyssey. As three yokel chain-gang fugitives wander the backwoods and cotton fields and gravel roads of Depression-era Mississippi, they inadvertently become country stars thanks to a hasty version of “Man of Constant Sorrow,” originally recorded in 1917 by Dick Burnett and re-recorded for the film by Dan Tyminski. Along the way they encounter a parade of white-clad Christians singing “Down to the River to Pray,” a blues singer who regales them with a campfire rendition of Skip James’ “Hard Time Killing Floor,” and a KKK klavern performing a Busby Berkley routine in white sheets and hoods.

Whittled down to eighteen tracks, the soundtrack hit stores just a few weeks before the film, and it seemed designed to stand alone as an upscale release. As Luke Lewis, formerly chairman/CEO of Universal Nashville, told Billboard in 2015: “When we were putting it together, a bunch of us said, ‘This is probably going to be a coffee table kind of a CD, where people will leave it around and be proud to have it.’ That turned out to be pretty much true… A lot of people that don’t buy records at all, or buy one a year, bought that record.”

Still, no one figured it would sell any more copies than your typical soundtrack, and certainly no one predicted it would so completely eclipse the film. Its success has been astounding: It has sold nearly 9 million copies, hung around the upper reaches of the Billboard Top 200 for several years, won the Grammy for Album of the Year (beating out Bob Dylan and Outkast, among others), spun off a sequel, inspired a series of tours and live albums, and redefined a massive market for traditional music in America.

Twenty years later, the gulf separating film and soundtrack remains remarkably wide. The former is glib to the point of nihilism, as though every line of dialogue and every camera angle is surrounded by quote marks. The soundtrack, by contrast, is sincere to the point of evangelism, as though these old songs were pieces of secular scripture. The music plays everything straight, while the film can’t keep a straight face. The soundtrack became a phenomenon, while the film sits in the lower tiers of its auteurs’ sprawling catalog.

Both are products of a very particular time: They were released during that short window between two defining events — the hand-wringing spectacle of Y2K and the horrific televised tragedy of 9/11. With the benefit of twenty years’ hindsight, they represent a pop-cultural pivot from the irony that defined the 1990s and much of the Coens’ output to the “New Sincerity” that defined the 2000s.

Why did this niche soundtrack become such a massive hit? Some have credited the popularity of O Brother to fin de siècle jitters and a desire to return to a rosier, more comfortable American past (never mind that the past, especially the 1930s, was never rosy or comfortable). Others have chalked it up to a rejection of the late ’90s pop music excess embodied by Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.

Perhaps the best reason for its success is also the most obvious: This is a good album, and an accessible one. It’s a well-curated tour through old-time music, a sampler of rural American traditions that serves as a primer on the subject without sounding like a textbook. All of these different styles are presented with an eloquence that is homespun yet modern: a balance that highlights rather than dampens their charms.

Burnett puts such an emphasis on the human voice that even the instrumental tracks sound a cappella. He wants you to hear the exquisite grain in the voices of Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and Alison Krauss on “Didn’t Leave Nobody But the Baby” as well as the weight pressing on Chris Thomas King as he moans through “Hard Time Killing Floor.” Curiously, Dr. Ralph Stanley had to convince the producer to let him sing “Oh Death” without banjo, which was absolutely the right call. His voice is high and keening, a serious a death, shaken by the very subject he’s singing about.

If there’s a breakout song on O Brother — something resembling a hit — it was this very intense performance, which remains one of the finest renditions of this very odd and oft-covered song. Stanley was 73 years old when the album was released, had been playing since 1946, and was already celebrated as one of the fathers of bluegrass, but O Brother gave his career a considerable boost, introducing him to a significantly wider audience. (That said, it always struck me as deeply disrespectful that the Coens have a Klansman lip-synching Stanley’s performance in the film, as though they feared the words might actually mean something.)

Stanley performed the song a cappella at the 2002 Grammys — imagine anything a cappella at such a glitz-bound ceremony — not long before the soundtrack won Album of the Year. It might have been the climax of the soundtrack’s shelf life, but it kept selling and kept selling. It created an instant audience for old-time music, and upstart string-bands found themselves with readymade audiences, many of them shouting “Man of Constant Sorrow” the way they once might have yelled “Free Bird!” Every artist on the album got a boost, especially Alison Krauss & Union Station, who crossed over from bluegrass to pop and launched a series of hit records with the aptly titled New Favorite in August 2001. Similarly, Welch, Harris, and even Stanley enjoyed boosts in album and ticket sales in the wake of O Brother.

As with any sweeping change, there are new opportunities as well as new losses. The alt-country acts of the 1990s had already lost much of their luster, but roots suddenly had no room for punk anymore. Gone were the dark, twangy experiments like Daniel Lanois’s Americana trilogy — Harris’ Wrecking Ball in 1996, followed by Bob Dylan’s Time Out of Mind the next year and Willie Nelson’s Teatro the year after that. All three proved that roots music could accommodate new sounds, that it could look to the future without completely letting go of the past, and all three stand among the best entries in their artists’ remarkable catalogs.

But O Brother seemed to wipe most of those new avenues away, turning roots music into something largely acoustic, uniform, polite, conservative — beholden to the past and largely dismissive of the present. Watching certain acts riding that wave was like watching Civil War reenactors march on a makeshift battlefield, and ten years later groups like Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers were using roots music to sell arena-size sentiments.

Another aspect of old-time lost in the O Brother wave: politics. Previous folk revivals had a populist bent, extolling the music as the sound of the people and as an expression of a specifically American community. Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger were branded subversives and communists, while Dylan and his early ‘60s cohort found radical possibilities in Harry Smith’s legendary Anthology of American Folk Music. But no one on O Brother is in any danger of being branded a pinko. The film itself nods to issues of race and class, but without really commenting on them in any serious or specific way. The soundtrack, by contrast, foregrounds songs about yearning, about breaking free of turmoil and hardship to find peace and contentment. Often that can be humorous, as on Harry McClintock’s fantastical “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” but more often it’s poignant, as on Krauss and Welch’s “I’ll Fly Away.” It’s a collection more concerned with needs of the spirit than of the flesh, so any earthly implications are largely ignored.

The roots market that sprang up in the soundtrack’s wake was consequently blanched of anything resembling social commentary, despite there being so much to comment on. That wave of bands might have provided a counterpart to the entrenched political conservatism that defined mainstream country music of the early 2000s, but instead it offered merely escapism.

A few artists did manage to question this rosy thinking about the past, in particular the Carolina Chocolate Drops. They traced strains of Black influence, craft, and contribution to old-time music, which is generally considered to be white, and therefore expanded its historical scope and current impact. As players, however, they injected their songs with no small amount of joy, as though taking great delight in what these old forms allowed them to express. The group’s three primary players — Dom Flemons, Rhiannon Giddens, and Justin Robinson — have carried that particular balance into their solo careers.

Any of the soundtrack’s shortcomings weren’t the fault of the musicians, who play and sing these songs much more beautifully and sympathetically than the film ever demanded. Nor is it the fault of the songs themselves, which obviously spoke to people as clearly in 2001 as they did in 1937. And it continues to speak loudly in 2021: The coffee table product wasn’t designed to bear the burden of the market it created, but the songs still inspire subsequent generations well into a new century, with its own tribulations and hardships.

 

The Show on the Road – The Secret Sisters

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

This week, host Z. Lupetin talks with Laura and Lydia Rodgers, Grammy-nominated songwriters and preeminent harmonizers from Muscle Shoals, AL, who for the last decade have recorded as The Secret Sisters.

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First breaking through with their warmly-vintage, vocally-entwined self-titled record in 2010, the Secret Sisters have toured the world relentlessly, while recording with a who’s who of Americana royalty like Dave Cobb and T Bone Burnett. If you’ve ever seen them live, Laura and Lydia are known for their sharp-tongued and story-filled live shows — which, even over Zoom, made them particularly rip-roaring interviewees.

After breaking free of a major label hell which sidelined and nearly bankrupted them for a time, the sisters regrouped and created their most personal and pop-forward work yet, the heart-string pulling You Don’t Own Me Anymore (2017) and 2020’s fiery Saturn Return. Both were made with friend and producer Brandi Carlile, and both were nominated for a Grammy.

While the last year plus was hard — they lost both grandmothers — there was quite a silver lining: Lydia and Laura each become moms, and have begun to sing their own lead pieces, courageously facing uncomfortable truths about their southern upbringing, calling out the double standards and sexual politics of the music industry, and showcasing their very different experiences as young mothers.

With Carlile pushing them to find their own voices, Laura wrote the tender “Hold You Dear” while Lydia penned the more yearning and sardonic “Late Bloomer,” two favorites that stick out after repeated listens to the album. Still, the true beauty of Saturn Return — which they recorded with Carlile’s beloved band — may be how Laura and Lydia can split off into new territory and then return together in chills-inducing harmony, as only sisters could.

Stick around to the end of episode for an intimate acoustic performance of “Nowhere, Baby.”

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 193

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Welcome to the first BGS Radio Hour of 2021! This week we bring you new music, music to remember those who we lost in 2020, and music to say farewell to the most, well… interesting year on record. We’re also celebrating 20 years of the massive roots music revival that followed the modern classic Coen Brothers’ film O Brother, Where Art Thou? Remember to check back every Monday for a new episode of the BGS Radio Hour!

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Steve Earle – “Harlem River Blues”

Steve Earle is no stranger to Americana music. Of his numerous accomplishments, one that sticks out was his late son, Justin Townes Earle, who we lost unexpectedly in August of 2020. A manifestation of a father’s love for his son, Earle paid his respects in the only way he knew how – by making a record of J.T.’s songs to say goodbye.

Scott MacKay – “Romance Novel”

This week brings us a music video to accompany Scott MacKay’s new release, Stupid Cupid. This song is a wonderful representation of the “humour in country music,” evoking images of MacKay’s parents and the many romance novels that filled their shelves.

Call Me Spinster – “Two Hearts”

Sister-trio Call Me Spinster know vocals. From their upbringing by musical parents to their independent studies and obsessions with various genres of music, the trio is well qualified to bring us a vocal-centric mixtape this week.

Danny Burns – “Trouble”

Irish-born singers-songwriter Danny Burns is back with a follow-up to his 2019 debut, North Country. “Trouble” is one of two new singles, a peek into his upcoming album Hurricane, which features an all-star lineup including Dan Tyminski, Aubrie Sellers, and more!

Maxayn Lewis – “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”

From a Netflix feature film, this week we take a dive into a wonderful soundtrack built by Branford Marsalis. The titular track to Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is sung by none other than soul-singer-legend Maxayn Lewis.

Taylor Ashton (feat. Rachael Price) – “Alex”

Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Taylor Ashton brings us “Alex” this week — a song about two roommates who happen to share the same name, but are unable to share their feelings with one another. Ashton takes it to another level by singing the duet with his “roommate” Rachael Price (Lake Street Dive), who he happens to be married to (although they don’t share a surname!)

Brit Taylor – “Real Me”

Brit Taylor was bound for Nashville; after all, she grew up along U.S. 23, the Country Music Highway, which runs through Eastern Kentucky around the homplaces of the likes of Keith Whitley, Ricky Skaggs, or the more recent Tyler Childers. Real Me is her debut album, an emergence from a stuck place, and a regrounding in the traditional country sound.

Barry Gibb (feat. Jason Isbell) – “Words of a Fool”

Barry Gibb (of Bee Gees fame) fulfills a life-long goal to create a roots record with Greenfields: The Gibb Brothers Songbook, Vol. 1. Remembering his late brothers, the Dave Cobb-produced album features the likes of Dolly Parton, Alison Krauss, and in this case, Jason Isbell.

The Soggy Bottom Boys – “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow”

The fictional Soggy Bottom Boys, star band of 2001’s O Brother, Where Art Thou?, did more for the commercial popularity of roots music than anyone could imagine (especially Ralph Stanley, who this song originally comes from.) We’re celebrating 20 years of O Brother this January, featuring the entire T-Bone Burnett-produced soundtrack as our Artist of the Month.

Buck Meek – “Candle”

Texas singer-songwriter Buck Meek brings us a new song from his upcoming project, Keeled Scales. He asks BGS, “Has a nosebleed ever sprung at the definitive moment of personal growth, like a threshold? Has a friend felt you light a candle from 1000 miles away?” What could be more simple, yet ever powerful, than a candle?

Antonio Lopez – “Roots and Wings”

There are roots, and there are wings; both are the best hope that can be given. From Longmont, CO, Antonio Lopez brings us this meditation on parents and all of the sacrifices they make for their children.

Stephen Kellogg – “I’ve Had Enough”

Like so many of us in the early days of 2021, Stephen Kellogg has had enough. The past year was enough to flip any optimist, but add in homeschooling during a pandemic, a daily dose of the news and, well… This Connecticut-based musician brings us his perspective on the whole matter.

Sturgill Simpson – “Hobo Cartoon”

It was exciting news in the summer of 2020 when Sturgill Simpson appeared at the Ryman Auditorium alongside Sierra Hull, Stuart Duncan, and others — only to announce that the group had just recorded a bluegrass double album that very week. “Hobo Cartoon” is the conclusion of it all, a song co-written with the late, great Merle Haggard, the end to Cuttin’ Grass, Vol. 2.

Graeme James – “The Weight of Many Winters”

There is nothing quite like the stillness of winter. It’s a feeling that Graeme James chases vehemently on his new seasonal EP. “The Weight of Many Winters” is a quiet moment of reflection, drowning out the noise of modern times — and a fitting title track for this new EP.

LA Edwards – “Trouble”

The idea for a simple dream meal pairing – Bruce Springsteen and a hot dog – could come from none other than LA Edwards. We sat down with the California-based artists for a 5+5 recently, covering everything from stage-inflicted wounds to home art collections.

Photo credit: (L to R) O Brother, Where Art Thou? via Buena Vista Pictures; Steve Earle by Shervin Lainez; Sturgill Simpson, Cuttin’ Grass, Vol. 2