Tag: Taj Mahal

Violinist and Singer-Songwriter Anne Harris “Brings Things Up a Level” with New Album

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Anne Harris is having a moment. Though many people (this writer included) are just finding out about this Midwestern violin virtuoso this year, she has been making records since 2001. With her new album, I Feel It Once Again (released May 9), Harris decided, in her words, to “bring things up a level.”

Not only is the disc getting rave reviews, it marks the first-ever violin commission in America between two Black women – Harris and luthier Amanda Ewing. The 10 songs on I Feel It Once Again range from traditionals like “Snowden’s Jig” and the closer “Time Has Made A Change” to originals like “Can’t Find My Way” and the project’s title track. Throughout, Harris remains impressive in both her vocals and her violin playing. The album was produced by Colin Linden who has worked with Bob Dylan, Rhiannon Giddens, Bruce Cockburn, and many others.

Harris is currently based in Chicago, but was actually born in rural Ohio. She took to music at a very young age, inspired by her parents’ record collection. After attending the University of Michigan’s School of Music, Harris moved to Chicago, where she delved into the city’s theater and music scenes. Now, she is about to tour with Taj Mahal and Keb’ Mo’ this summer. BGS had the pleasure of catching up with Anne Harris for a conversation about the new album, her Amanda Ewing-built violin, her influences and inspirations, and more.

To start, tell me where and when I Feel It Once Again was recorded.

Anne Harris: I did the record in Nashville. Coming out of the pandemic, I had been writing and I felt like I had a collection of songs – a pool of things that I wanted to be on my next record. I wanted to work with a producer, [but] I wasn’t sure who to work with. All my prior records had just been basement records, basically. Nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to bring things up a level. A friend of mine, Amy Helm – who is an amazing singer-songwriter in her own right – recommended Colin Linden to me.

Colin is Canadian born and raised. Incredible multi-instrumentalist [and] producer that’s made Nashville his home for many years now. Anyone [Amy] recommends I’m gonna listen to. So I started listening to some of the records he made. I got in touch with Colin and sent him, in really rough form, a big basket of songs I was considering. He really loved them and wanted to work on the record. We got the basic core of the record laid down in about a week of intense recording in Nashville and finished up with a few things remotely after that.

Is it true that you first picked up the violin as a kid after watching Fiddler on the Roof?

Yeah! My Mom took my sister and I to see the movie version of Fiddler on the Roof when we were little; I was around three. I was born and raised in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I remember being at this movie theater in Dayton for a matinee. I remember the picture of the screen – you know, this opening scene where Isaac Stern is in silhouette on a rooftop playing the overture. And [my mother] said I stood up, pointed at the screen, and yelled – as loud as I could – “Mommy! That’s what I wanna do!” She was like, “Okay, you gotta sit down and be quiet.”

She thought [it was] maybe a passing thing and that I was caught up in the drama of the music. [But] I just kept bugging her about it. So she let me do a couple of early violin camp kind of things here and there. I just had this intensity about wanting to really study it. So when I turned eight, I started studying privately with a teacher. Suzuki and classical training was sort of my background.

Tell me about the title track, which is also right in the middle of the album. What inspired “I Feel It Once Again?”

A couple of years ago, [my] friend Dave Hererro – who is a Chicago based blues guitar player. Sometimes he’ll come up with a little riff and send it my way and say, “What do you think of this?” He sent me this guitar riff, which is kind of the through line of that song. I heard it and immediately the whole song and story unfolded in my head. I wrote [it] around that guitar riff in, like, one session. I did a demo and I played it for Dave. I’m like, “Dude! I love this so much.” He’s like, “Well, do whatever you want with it!”

Writing is an interesting thing. I’m not super prolific. I’m not one of those people that’s like, “I journal every day for 13 hours!” [Laughs] You know? [I don’t] have a discipline or method other than trying to stay open to inspiration and committing to it when it happens.

[That] was the case with that song. I had the story and a picture in my mind of what that song about. Somebody musing over a loss. You know, it’s twilight and they’re finishing a bottle of wine and mourning the loss of this great love. One part of you is fine when it’s daytime and you can put on a face and you’re going about your business. But then when the curtain comes down, behind that curtain is this loss and this mourning. That’s what that song is about.

Everything looks different at 4am, doesn’t it? [Laughs]

I [also] wanted to ask you about “Snowden’s Jig.” That’s a type of music I know virtually nothing about. I know it’s a traditional.

Yes. “Snowden’s Jig” is a tune that I learned from the Carolina Chocolate Drops record Genuine Negro Jig. It was my gateway into the Carolina Chocolate Drops. I was doing errands somewhere and I had NPR on and [they] were a feature story. And it was just this mind-blowing thing.

Joe Thompson [has] been deceased for a while now. But he was one of the last living fiddlers in the Black string band tradition. They would go to his porch, learn tunes from him, and learn the history of Black string band tradition. That’s sort of how they started their group. [“Snowden’s Jig”] was on that record and they learned it from Joe.

Part of my mission as an artist is to be a bridge of accessibility through my instrument, the violin, to the Black fiddle tradition. There was a time during slavery days when the fiddle and banjo were the predominant instruments among Black players. Guitars were sort of a rarity. That was when string band music was really at its height. North New Orleans was the sort of center of Black fiddle playing. Often time, enslavers would send their enslaved people down to New Orleans to learn how to play fiddle and then come back to the plantation to entertain for white parties and balls.

You’re based in Chicago. It’s a big music city. How has living in Chicago informed your music?

Chicago is known as a workingman’s city, a working class city. There’s something very grounded about Chicago in general and that’s the reputation it has. I’m a Midwestern person [anyway], from Ohio originally. There’s something about us in the Midwest. You know, we’ll never be as cool as New York or LA! But we work our asses off. I feel that translates into the artists in this town. It’s really a place where it’s about the work.

This album apparently marks the first violin commission between two Black women. Yourself and Amanda Ewing?

Correct. Amanda Ewing. It’s the very first professional violin commission that’s been recognized in an official capacity. Amanda has a certificate from the governor of Tennessee – she’s a Nashville resident – citing her as the first Black woman violin luthier in the country.

When I first saw Amanda, it was online. The algorithm basically brought her to my phone. I saw a picture of this beautiful Black woman in a work coat, holding the violin and I about lost my mind. I was so blown away and inspired. I read her story and got in touch with her and told her, “I have to have you make a violin for me. I have to own a violin that was made by the hands of somebody that looks like me.” It never occurred to me, in all my years of playing, what the hands of the maker of my instrument might look like. That’s not an uncommon thing, but it’s sort of sad! It would never occur to me that a Black woman would be an option.

So as soon as I met her, we embarked on a commission that was funded by GoFundMe. She decided she wanted to make two [violins] so that I would have a choice. They were completed in February, a couple of months ago. [One violin] will make its official debut for a public audience on the 23rd of May. I’m gonna be playing at the Grand Ole Opry with Taj Mahal and Keb’ Mo’. I’m going on tour with them.

It’s funny, I was gonna ask you next about that tour! I noticed you had some upcoming tour dates with Taj and Keb’. I wanted to ask your thoughts on that and maybe what people can look forward to on this tour.

A friend of mine is Taj Mahal’s manager and she’s also good friends with Keb’. She said that Kevin [Keb’] had approached her looking for a violinist player for this upcoming tour. They have a new record out as TajMo called Room On The Porch. It’s their second under that moniker and it’s an amazing collaboration. Two iconic figures making beautiful music together. So she recommended me and [Keb’] had seen me before – I think when I was touring with Otis Taylor years ago. He called me and you know I’ll keep that voicemail forever!

As far as what to look forward to, it’s gonna be amazing. The opportunity to work with luminaries… I’m gonna be the biggest sponge, soaking up all of the knowledge from these giants. Taj has been influential to just about everyone on some level. He’s one of those people who’s worked with everybody and done so much. I’m just over the moon.

Photo Credit: Roman Sobus

BGS 5+5: Countercurrent

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Countercurrent (Brian Lindsay and Alex Sturbaum)
Hometown: Olympia, Washington
Latest Album: Flow (released March 3, 2025)

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

It’s a three-way tie for me between Great Big Sea (gateway drug into trad music, consummate performers, wonderful harmonies), early Solas (dazzling musicianship, tight arrangements, and an unmistakable guitar style) and the Grateful Dead (fearless improvisation, and pushing the boundaries of what is possible while keeping one foot firmly in folk). – Alex Sturbaum

Chicago fiddler Liz Carroll has probably had the most comprehensive influence on me – she is a master of creative interpretations of traditional fiddle tunes and composing new tunes in a trad idiom. Much of how I think about melodic improvisation and variation around a melody is influenced by her playing. Her recordings over the years showcase some incredible arrangements and beautiful production, ranging from very minimal, traditional-sounding, to lush and modern tracks. – Brian Lindsay

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

“Play ’em happy, sing ’em angry.” We want our music to inspire joy and resilience and to generally make folks feel good. However, we also want to call out the injustice we see in the world every day and use our music to aid the fight against fascism in whatever way we can. – AS

“Every tradition is a living tradition, if we participate.” Musical traditions don’t thrive when we only admire them inside a glass case, they benefit from curating the archives of the past, honoring the figures who have shaped it today, and welcoming new contributions that reflect today’s influences (cultural, political, technological, etc.). Most importantly, music communities thrive when we make music that we really love to listen and move to. – BL

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

We draw from a lot of different folk traditions – Celtic, old-time, maritime, jam-band music, and more – but fundamentally, Countercurrent is a dance band. We cut our teeth playing for contra dancing, that’s still the main thing we do, and everything we play is built around groove and drive. One of our favorite things in the world is bringing our music to venues outside of folk communities and getting an audience to unironically throw ass to fiddle tunes. – AS

In a nutshell, “modern fiddle tune dance jams.” Our focus is to create music that moves people, both physically and emotionally, and our vocabulary comes from the genres of Irish, American old-time, and adjacent fiddle and song traditions. We add our own compositions using that vocabulary, but incorporating our musical influences from genres like jam bands, funk, electronic, and rock that we love. – BL

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

We both really enjoy the offbeat songwriter Dan Reeder. We had the pleasure of getting to see him and his daughter Peggy in Seattle recently – one of their rare tours from Germany – and we have been enjoying singing his songs together in green rooms and tour vehicles. I also have a sizable soft spot for Owl City. – AS

I’m very fond of the music of blues singer and instrumentalist Taj Mahal. I got some of his recordings when I was quite young and got to see him live near my home when I was in high school. I also love Moon Hooch, who essentially make saxophone-based EDM with live drums (I have an unabashed love for the saxophone, and brass instruments in general, though I don’t play any). – BL

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

I once had a Thai meal with roasted coconut and pork belly right before seeing Gillian Welch perform The Harrow and the Harvest in its entirety, and to be honest I have been thinking about both ever since. – AS

A meal consisting entirely of East Asian dumplings of every variety, with Kishi Bashi, whose music I adore and also appears to be an incredibly interesting and kind person. – BL

Photo Credit: Molly Walsh

Jontavious Willis Is Traditional and Contemporary At The Same Time

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Growing up in rural Georgia, Jontavious Willis discovered blues through a YouTube video of Muddy Waters and immediately immersed himself in the genre. At 14, he began playing acoustic guitar, he started gigging as a college student, and released his first album, Blues Metamorphosis, in 2016. Two years later, he opened on the TajMo tour with Taj Mahal and Keb’ Mo’. They co-produced his GRAMMY-nominated second album, Spectacular Class.

Offered the opportunity to record his new album, West Georgia Blues, in Nashville, Willis’s response was a resounding “No.” Tracking in his home state was non-negotiable, as that DNA was critical to his vision and sound. “Georgia was a big part of the story and I wasn’t going to fold on that,” he says. “I wasn’t going to let up.”

The singer-songwriter-guitarist and his musicians gathered for ten days at Capricorn Studios in Macon. Willis produced while engineer-guitarist John Atkinson mixed (and contributed guitar work on “A Lift Is All I Need”). They tracked some 200 songs, 80 of them usable, says Willis, and pared those down to the 15 that became his third album.

Willis’s fingerpicking style is rich in tradition and, as he’ll tell you, contemporary because it exists – now. With that, being featured alongside bluegrass and country music on a website such as this is a perfect fit, as he explained during his recent interview with BGS.

What were your goals going into this record?

Jontavious Willis: My goal was to show growth and stay away from carbon copies of other songs. I hear it all the time – you take a song and change a few words around, but it’s still B.B. King, it’s still Robert Johnson. I tried to make each song its own and if I did take from other folks, I did it my own way.

We get so wrapped up in saying, “Oh, I can play old music, so let’s stay there,” that we forget to create. I wanted to show my writing ability, my producing ability, and I wanted to show a difference. I’m glad I put space in between the albums to really show growth. Since the album’s complete, I’ve been getting great reception. But beyond that, I made an album I can listen to from beginning to end.

You didn’t feel that way with your other albums?

The first one, I knew I was green, but I had to put something out there. I’m always happy in the beginning. Then, when you listen to it long enough, you’re like, “I should have did this and this.” But I really can listen to this one. Truly, honestly, the first one, I wasn’t as good a player. The second one, I wasn’t playing at my full capacity or with blues players. I was playing with session musicians. This one, I played with people that knew the references to blues.

You’re a blues musician being interviewed by BGS, a bluegrass website, with a country music “sister” website, Good Country. That might seem like a big jump to some people, but the genres have common threads. Music historian that you are, could you address those connections?

Music was the most integrated pastime, prior to the big record labels coming in and separating them. One of the first integrated groups was actually in Georgia, called the Georgia Yellow Hammers. It featured a fiddle player named Andrew Baxter.

When some people think of country, they think of a particular sound. When I think of country, I think of rural. A lot of people say “simplistic,” because it sounds so peaceful and melodic, but it can be some of the hardest music ever. When I think of the intertwining of country music, I think about the early pioneers, like the first star of the Grand Ole Opry, DeFord Bailey, a Black fellow that played harmonica. Hank Williams learned from Tee Tot, [Rufus Payne]. Johnny Cash spent a lot of time with Gus Cannon and Furry Lewis and old blues folks like that. You can go on and on. A lot of the repertoire of blues artists isn’t just blues. Some of it could be classified as country.

Over time, with new talent, genres expand and change and self-proclaimed “purists” get ruffled. As an artist with deep roots in traditional and contemporary music, what are your thoughts?

I’m kind of with them and not with them. The reason I say this is because I feel like it is good to identify things sonically. When I listen to classical music, I think about what makes it classical. When I listen to jazz, I think about what makes it jazz. The same with blues, because what I’m seeing now is that blues have been overtaken by rock, and I don’t like that, because rock is not blues. It’s definitely a sub-genre or even a whole ’nother genre of blues, but it’s not interchangeable. A lot of the audience the rockers had kind of melted over into the blues, and a lot of people didn’t learn the blues from the front. A lot of ’em came through the back door, through these rockers and other big bands.

So I feel like it is good to identify what it is, but also understand that music changes. But call it what it is. If I’m playing blues-rock, I’m not playing natural blues. If I’m playing contemporary gospel, I’m not playing traditional gospel. The guys that made these beautiful songs that sold millions of copies — they didn’t get money for it. They didn’t get their due. It’s time for folks to stand by the genre of music they do and tell folks what it is.

Let’s talk about those sub-genres and what they mean, if anything.

It’s hard to really define the categories. With blues, they chop it in two main categories, at least for the GRAMMYs: contemporary and traditional. Contemporary means you’re keeping with the times. So by me living and writing music, that is being contemporary. Traditional means I’m a part of the tradition. So I can be traditional and contemporary at the same time. It is not one or the other. It’s a safe room for both.

Scholars made these terms up. Black folk wasn’t calling their music Delta blues or Piedmont blues until they heard so many folks saying it. Then they started saying it. But nowadays, those terms don’t mean nothing unless you’re from those places. I’m from Piedmont, so I’m a Piedmont player by default. I even went one step further to say I play West Georgia blues. What is West Georgia blues? I don’t know. I’m from West Georgia and I’m playing the blues in West Georgia. I can say that’s my style. A lot of people say Delta blues. Delta blues is a region, not necessarily a style. I can name three artists from the Delta that don’t sound alike. It varies from musician to musician.

It’s nicer for the listeners to think it’s categories, so you can navigate your way. But it also pigeonholes the artists and doesn’t really showcase the music and what it is. This is freeform music that people created. The record industry had a big hold on all of it, and that’s how they separated bluegrass from blues and country music. So I think you have to be a purist in a sense to maintain. If not, everything could spill over into everything, which is a good idea, but in essence, you want to identify the different sounds and nuances.

How does Georgia – its music, its history, and your history – inform your music?

Every state has salt-and-sugar history. I grew up in a predominantly Black town. Greenville, Georgia, is 70 or 80 percent Black. We’ve got a rich gospel history, and Georgia overall has Buddy Moss, Blind Willie McTell, on and on. So being in Georgia, always loving history, and always being around my family definitely shaped my music, the good and the bad. That’s what life is about, the good and the bad. Most of all, my hometown shaped me, more so than the famous people.

The blues people from Georgia definitely shaped my music. I was always aware of the other folks, like Little Richard, James Brown, Ray Charles, and Otis Redding, but they didn’t shape me. I listened to the old blues players and it was a great awakening for me to realize that Georgia has blues, because if you listen to a lot of folks, you’ll only think that it’s in Illinois and Mississippi. But the first studio in the South was in Atlanta in 1923. Everybody had to come to Georgia to record.

I know the United States has got twisted history, and that’s part of the blues. The blues is free Black people speaking their mind and saying how they feel, not always being political but just being true to themselves. To me, Georgia is family, struggle, prosperity, farming, food, life. It’s everything. I’ve been to a lot of places in the world, in Europe, to 46 of the 50 states, and ain’t no place like home. I’m looking at it now – the contrast of this dark green and light blue and these hills. You can’t beat that, man. Georgia’s everything to me.

What was it about blues that spoke to you as a 12-year-old? What has or hasn’t changed?

When I was a kid, I was singing gospel music about going to heaven and wasn’t I thinking about dying! A lot of those blues guys started out young. They were teenagers. Helen Humes, Buddy Moss, Josh White … Robert Johnson was 27 when he died, so he had to be singing the blues when he was young.

I’ve loved the blues since I was 12 years old, two years before I started playing guitar. I was at the age where I could appreciate it. The blues makes you think. Technically, some of those sounds aren’t supposed to be happening. Some of the stuff don’t make musical sense because lot of these folks aren’t trained musicians. But the stuff they put out – I can listen to it because it’s relatable to me. They talk in the way I understand. They sing in the way I understand, and man, it can just do something good to me. I don’t know what it is, but Jesus, it’s so good!

Photo courtesy of the Jontavious Willis Team.

The True Healing Found in Kaia Kater’s ‘Strange Medicine’

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

A deep reflection born from a time of the extreme silence and noise of the pandemic, Kaïa Kater’s new album, Strange Medicine (out today, May 17), digs into the feelings society tells us not to feel, imagines healing and revenge from abuses, and reckons with themes of racism and sexism of the past and today. While the undercurrents are heavy, the arrangements are gentle and flowing, juxtaposing our expectations of what we think it means to process the darkness in life with the truth that many emotions can exist simultaneously.

Written from home in Montreal, Strange Medicine takes us on a cathartic journey imagining characters interwoven with parts of Kater and parts of the world she observes. Drawing on inspiration from artists like Steve Reich, Brian Blade, and Johnny Greenwood and partnering with Montreal-based producer Joe Grass (The Barr Brothers and Elisapie), she took a different musical path than in the past.

Leaning into her primary instrument, banjo, Grass and Kater built the framework for each of the tracks slowly, starting with bedroom tracks and expanding to include arrangers like Franky Rousseau (Andrew Bird, Chris Thile) and Dominic Mekky (Caroline Shaw, Sara Bareilles) and musicians Rob Moose (Bon Iver, Phoebe Bridgers, Paul Simon), Robbie Kuster (Patrick Watson), and Phil Melanson (Andy Shauf, Sam Gendel). Kater spoke to BGS via Zoom.

Hi! How are you?

Kaia Kater: I’m okay! A couple of days ago I dropped my phone directly onto my laptop screen and it cracked. I had to go to Apple. So I am without a laptop, but thankfully have my 10-year-old iPad, bless her!

Apple is coming in clutch. Also, Apple product destroying Apple product is kind of funny.

Yeah, it’s an Apple-on-Apple hate crime. It’s terrible. I feel so weird about it. But I have AppleCare, which is good.

With the couple of sentences that you just said it’s no wonder the Department of Justice is looking into Apple as a monopoly. Vertical integration. Well, how are things going other than Apple problems?

The record is out in a week, so I’m excited. Thank you for doing this piece. I never take any press for granted, especially after the pandemic, when things were so terrible and hard.

What a weird time. Is that when you started writing this record?

Yeah, pretty much. I wrote my first song in April of 2020. We finished the record in 2023. So I would say like 2020 to 2022, was the writing window.

This album is a pandemic baby!

It is. Yeah, I’m proud of my little pandemic baby. Born out of a lot of feelings of stasis and confusion, but also just so fun to record. I think that there’s a lot of grief in the lyrics. But you can still vibe to sad songs, especially when they feel groovy. So that was the intent.

So when did you start recording it?

Let’s see, we went in to record in October of 2022 but the official recording days were preceded by a ton of demo days. So throughout 2021 and into 2022, I would go to my co-producer Joe’s studio in Montreal. We would just track stuff and either bring people in or ship the songs out to people and pay them a demo fee and have them kind of like splash around and see what their interpretation of the song was. That was kind of like how we selected personnel. I think we had a pretty strong idea of what we wanted to do by the time we got into the studio, which is so different from other projects I’ve been part of and other records I’ve done.

How was it different?

I guess, with the pandemic, I had the blessing of time, which I never had before really. With Nine Pin, I recorded on my winter break from college in my senior year, and then Grenades was done from start to finish in two weeks. And so with Strange Medicine, it was about two years. There are advantages and drawbacks to that. It is very easy to start second guessing some choices that you’d made in the previous calendar year, but I think it was to me such a novelty to be able to write and then listen back, and send the arrangement to someone and have them send their work back. It was so much more thoughtful because we had the time to do that.

That makes total sense. So you started writing it during the pandemic. What was your writing process like? Did you have ideas that you came into the lockdown with, or were you processing things in real time?

Well, originally I was like, “I’m never gonna play banjo again.” I don’t know what I was thinking. I think I was trying, to a certain extent, to escape my roots, transform, or do this phoenix thing. Where people are like, “Whoa! She was a banjo player and now she’s an electronic pop musician.” That was maybe a facet of my mid-20s to late 20s, having that crackling feeling that all the different paths your life can take feel like they’re narrowing. And so you’re kind of like fighting against that and going, “No, I still can transform again, musically.”

Really what led me to write more songs on the banjo, especially for Strange Medicine, was that it was really comforting to me. I think I went back to it after wanting to spread my wings. Once I was alone in a room I was like, “What do I want to do right now? I just wanna play banjo.” And for a long time that’s all I did. I didn’t really write. The songs trickled in bit by bit. But you know I definitely gave up that idea of trying to metamorphosize in the way that I thought I was going to. I think I did it in a different way.

Can you talk a little bit about what it meant to be in Montreal writing this record and just in general? What influence did the town have on this particular record? And how does the music community there influence you?

Well, it’s very experimental there. And there’s a kind of freedom and risk-taking. People are not afraid to have things fail or to have things not quite work. Even now, I’m sort of deconstructing the idea that I grew up with, this idea of what a songwriter is, which is that you work really hard at your craft, you play the song down. And the way that you improve every night is how you perfect and tighten the song as much as possible. I’ve been getting into this idea of improvisation.

I don’t know if it’s because the rent is cheaper there, so you don’t have to hustle as much. I just felt so much more space to play around.

While we’re on the subject of Montreal, you collaborated with Allison Russell on “In Montreal” about your shared hometown. I was curious since Aoife O’Donovan is from Massachusetts and you’re talking about witches on “The Witch” – was that a purposeful choice?

No, but that occurred to me about a week ago. I was making dinner, and I was like, “Wait. Aoife’s from Massachusetts!” It must have been in some way subconscious. I kind of see people as the roots that they’ve grown from. And definitely, when thinking about the features I wanted, I wanted it to make sense with who that person is. For example, with Taj Mahal, he’s who I learned about the black roots of the banjo from first. He was doing that in the ‘60s, and he has a lot of Calypso and Caribbean influences and heritage. Bringing him into a song about a Caribbean revolutionary felt like, “Well, of course.” I even wrote him a little letter explaining the song, because he’s 80. He doesn’t need to be on anybody’s record. And so I was like, “Let me tell you what the song is about, and maybe you’ll want to sing on it.”

That’s so cool. And how did the collaboration on “The Witch” come about?

Aoife has always been really supportive of me as a person and as an artist, going back to 2017. She’s kept me in mind for a lot of things and she’s suggested me for opportunities. She’s also really community-oriented. She’s very cognizant of supporting women musicians and young musicians. I’m a mega fan of hers.

I had written “The Witch” and I thought she would sound great on it. Fast forward to the end of the process, when all we had left to do was harmony vocals and I was really nervous to ask her because I think I was scared to get a no. But I’ve been practicing. You have to ask, because if you don’t ask you don’t receive anything. I texted her, and she immediately responded yes without even hearing the song. Then she laid down all these like really intricate harmony parts. She’s a genius.

Your voices are beautiful together. It works really well. And the Massachusetts thing — it’s perfect. While we’re on the subject of that song, what connects you to the stories of these women who were accused of witchcraft or adultery and were punished for it?

To me, it is the juxtaposition of having this perceived power in the minds of men as being capable of influence, capable of seduction and luring, and superseding a man’s high intelligence and thoughts of himself and overtaking will power. But then, when women were accused of being witches, their already limited power just absolutely disintegrated and they were executed by mobs. I was thinking a lot about these kind of polar ideas of women having so much power over men, but then we’re struggling to be taken seriously in a workplace or struggling to feel like we are on equal footing.

I think sexism and racism today are much more insidious – as are homophobia and transphobia. It’s so palpable. Being able to give voice to someone in history who may meet a different fate; maybe they try to kill her, and she’s like,”Ha! I survived. And now, aren’t you scared of me?”

The influence came from a lot of different places; the witches from Macbeth, and the Roald Dahl witches. They are all in our popular consciousness to a certain extent, and I think we have a fascination with them.

Absolutely. Let’s talk about the song “Floodlights.” It reminded me of Joni Mitchell for two reasons. One is the sonic palette and the orchestration reminded me of her. Second, I saw a video of her recently and she was talking about how a good song should make a listener think of themselves rather than of her. That’s obviously an objective idea, but this song, though focused on a romantic relationship, reminded me of some of my own, but also friendships and working relationships and how the dynamic of one person’s power over another can be so incredibly detrimental. But there is hope and life on the other side of that. It is a special way you tell the story in a cafe where the protagonist is feeling herself rise over a past love for the first time. I was wondering if you find that you have clarity around power dynamics yourself as you grow older as the protagonist does?

I’ve recently turned 30. And to me, that seems to be the absolute blessing of your 30s, that you have this kind of clarity and understanding of who you are and what you are willing and not willing to tolerate. That song itself is about an age-gap relationship that I was in. We had an 11-year age difference. I was super young. I was 18 or 19 when we got together, and this whole conception that I had was, “I’m mature and I’m actually better than the other women my age, because I have someone who is super mature and who thinks that I’m interesting. I’m also better than the women his age. There’s something special about me,” like I felt chosen.

That was such a powerful feeling at that time when so much of my self-esteem was dependent on what other people thought of me. Slowly, through the course of this relationship, I realized that he chose me, but not for the reasons that I thought I had been chosen.

I mean he was a walking red flag and I just did not trust my intuition to understand that. This wasn’t a good scenario, and now, on the other side of it, at 30, I couldn’t imagine dating a 20-year-old. There’s an inherent power dynamic there. I wrote the beginning of the song two years before I finished it, because in the beginning, I couldn’t think of an ending. I couldn’t have seen him at a bar (which really happened) and just been scared and left. I wanted to give the protagonist a better ending than that.

It sounds like you did a lot of processing on this record through your writing, like maybe you released some frozen anger. I think most women can relate to that in general, because we are so often encouraged or told to suppress that emotion. I was wondering how your relationship with anger and revenge evolved and shifted through the creation of this album?

I think therapy seems to be a theme in a lot of artists’ albums these days. I didn’t realize how much anger I carried until I went to therapy. I had always grown up thinking that any kind of anger is debasing yourself. You’re losing power and you’re not being your highest, most evolved self.

Every time I got angry, I felt like I’d failed to access my more evolved emotions. It was through therapy that I learned that anger is, in many ways, necessary. We are refusing to be treated a certain way.

I think adventuring through these ideas of revenge where it’s like, “Well, what if I don’t choose forgiveness? What about that? Why do I have to be the peaceable one? Why do I have to be the one to absorb all of your violence, and then somehow process it out so that we’re good?” I have to say, it was really fun to write these lyrics and not shy away from some more violent imagery, especially in “The Witch.”

I heard someone say something like, “Anything that’s human is mentionable. And anything that’s mentionable is manageable.” I think singing it out is so nice because it’s mentionable. It’s manageable.

Speaking of, this is a great segue. How does it feel to perform these songs live?

It feels really good. It feels vulnerable too, having lived with them so long during the pandemic. It’s interesting to start sharing them with people. I have this ritual where the day before a single comes out, I listen to the song on a walk. And I’m like, “Okay, this is the last time this is gonna be only mine.” I think that ritual has really helped me. It’s a really personal album in a lot of ways for me.

I’m looking forward to trying it out in many different configurations, continuing the idea of play that we started out with this record, and seeing the different ways it can evolve and change.

Photo Credit: Janice Reid

Artist of the Month: Kaia Kater

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

BGS first had the opportunity to work with singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and composer Kaia Kater all the way back in 2016. She appeared on our inaugural Shout & Shine showcase stage that year at the International Bluegrass Music Association’s business conference in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was the first ever showcase celebrating diversity at the headline bluegrass event and it was also where I met her for the first time in person. We were both panelists for another first-ever, IBMA’s round-table style panel on inclusion that was convened the day after Shout & Shine. Partially planned in response to North Carolina’s just-passed transphobic measure, HB2 – one of the first anti-trans “bathroom bills,” beginning what would become a nearly decade-long and as yet unfinished battle in state houses around the country for equal rights for trans folks – the panel’s format was all about direct conversation and reaching folks where they were at.

A grassroots collective of musicians, artists, and industry professionals who represented often marginalized identities in bluegrass had decided enough was enough, we would have to stake out and hold space at IBMA’s conference to have these long overdue conversations about who is and who isn’t excluded from these roots music genres and what we can do to make all folks feel safe(r) and at home in these communities we love. Kater was right there, engaging and often leading dialogues on these important subjects. A handful of days later, she published her first byline on BGS, an incisive, compassionate, and necessary op-ed on Breaking the Wheel of Silence – calling out all too common “closing of ranks” and music industry status quos that reinforce and protect misogyny, patriarchy, and systems of sexual harassment and sexual violence and their perpetrators.

In short, Kater has long been a thought leader in roots music, especially in bluegrass, old-time, and our BGS family. We’ve been fortunate to get to collaborate with her in various ways on that vital work, from having her writing published on our site and in our year end round-ups to covering her own art and roots music creations.

Luckily, the music she crafts and the messages within it make it infinitely easier to spotlight these often touchy and incredibly nuanced issues. From her debut, 2015’s Sorrow Bound, to 2016’s impressive Nine Pin – which some call her “break out” record – Kater has been spinning complex and entrancing roots music threads that draw on her lived experiences as a Canadian-Grenadian banjo player and lifelong folk musician, turning over and examining what are often called “thorny” or “divisive” issues. Her music grounds abstract and theoretical concepts in the past, present, and future. But her songs don’t sound mired in these issues or concepts at all, just the opposite.

Over the course of her career, from her teens and young adulthood to today, on the cusp of releasing a new album, Strange Medicine (out May 17 via Free Dirt Records), this singular perspective Kater has cultivated continues to blossom, grow, and come into sharper focus. 2018’s Grenades, a sort of concept record placed decidedly in the Caribbean and tracing Kater’s roots back to the beautiful island of Grenada, processes generational traumas, the machinations and intricacies of culture, the nebulousness of belonging, and so many other colors and textures decidedly at home in folk music, but enlivened constantly through Kater’s creative lens. Grenades is a master work, demonstrating a creator and musician who knows who they are – even when they do not.

Six years later, enter Strange Medicine, another album masterpiece that finds Kater still more confident, more at ease, and just as convicting. Genre parameters, her prior records, and her strong positioning of community are all present here, but perhaps not as directly. Instead, Strange Medicine seems to be grown from the fertile, rich, and dense soil of Kater’s career to this point. There are indirect touches of all of the above, but overall this collection feels brand new. It is a novel synthesis of her values systems and worldview, one that feels assured while still exploratory, firm but flexible, responsive but not reactive. Strange, indeed, but never odd (or estranged).

With stunning collaborations with Taj Mahal, Allison Russell, and Aoife O’Donovan – who is featured on “The Witch,” a track made available today – Kater demonstrates how, more than ten years since she began her professional trajectory, her music shines with cross pollination, positioning the community members who helped shape her own music within that very body of work. It’s part of why her new band, New Dangerfield – with Jake Blount, Tray Wellington, and Nelson Williams – can be called a supergroup, though that moniker immediately feels reductive. Kater and her cohort are no longer simply adding their voices to an ongoing conversation, they are the conversation. The center of gravity – in folk, old-time, bluegrass, Americana, and beyond – has shifted, and with that shift we see Kater, many of her peers in her generation, as well as those collaborators and influences who came before continually advancing these discourses.

Her medium, as always, is music. Her dialogue, as always, is not simply with those who choose to consume her art, but specifically with those who engage with it, try it on, turn it inside out, and kick the tires. This is music that will stand up to that sort of holistic interaction. It’s infinitely listenable, incredibly fun, and grooving, too; Strange Medicine might be the danciest record in Kater’s catalog. It’s intellectual, yes, but more than that, Kater shows us that music can be nutritious, challenging, and dense while effervescent, joyful, and soaring.

All month long, we’ll be celebrating our pal, collaborator, and constant source of inspiration Kaia Kater as our Artist of the Month. Below, enjoy our Essential Kaia Kater Playlist and watch for an exclusive AOTM interview coming in just a couple of weeks, too.

Back then in 2015 and 2016, when we were just introduced to Kater and her music, if you had asked any of us if we’d expect her to be our Artist of the Month someday, down the line, I think almost any of us would’ve responded with a resounding, “Yes!” So we’re especially proud to celebrate Strange Medicine and Kaia Kater as our May Artist of the Month.

Photo Credit: Janice Reid

LISTEN: Taj Mahal, “Gee Baby Ain’t I Good to You”

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Taj Mahal
Hometown: Harlem, New York
Song: “Gee Baby Ain’t I Good to You”
Album: Savoy
Release Date: April 28, 2023
Label: Stony Plain Records

Editor’s Note: Taj Mahal’s Savoy is a loving throwback to the sounds of swing, jazz and big band music. Recorded with producer John Simon, the album offers a collection of blues-tinged classic material. Taj Mahal’s parents met for the first time at the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem during the initial run of Ella Fitzgerald with the Chick Webb Band in 1938.

In Their Words: “I heard the songs on Savoy as a kid when all of those people who made those musics were alive and speaking to us through the records. Those weren’t just records to collect. Those were like listening to your relatives, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents speaking to you through that medium, the medium of music. The music was good then. It’s going to be good now, especially when you got people who really respect what it is. Also, who respect the gift they’ve been given. It’s a gift to be able to play music, art, dance, write, do science, whatever, ‘cause you’re contributing to humanity. What you’ve been sent to do, that’s the whole thing.” — Taj Mahal

Photo Credit: Jay Blakesberg

International Folk Music Awards Reveal Nominees, Lifetime Achievement Winners

Posted on by Editor

Folk Alliance International (FAI), the foremost global nonprofit for folk music and the producers of the International Folk Music Awards, have announced the recipients of numerous honorary awards as well as nominees for Album, Artist and Song of the Year.

The Elaine Weissman Lifetime Achievement Awards are presented each year to honor the cultural impact of legendary folk music figures: one Living, one Legacy, and one Business/Academic. This year’s honorees are lauded songwriter and performer Janis Ian; the late folk and blues singer Josh White; and Oh Boy Records, the independent record label co-founded by John Prine in 1981.

The awards show will be held February 1 in Kansas City, Missouri, on the opening night of FAI’s 35th annual conference, and will be broadcast online. Appearances are confirmed by Folk Alliance International Conference keynote speaker Valerie June; The Milk Carton Kids; IFMA honoree Leyla McCalla; and Sam Lee.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR (sponsored by Rounder Records)

Get on Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee by Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder
Marchita by Silvana Estrada
Queen of Sheba by Angélique Kidjo & Ibrahim Maalouf
Anaïs Mitchell by Anaïs Mitchell
Crooked Tree by Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway

ARTIST OF THE YEAR

Aoife O’Donovan
Jake Blount
Janis Ian
Leyla McCalla
Prateek Kuhad

SONG OF THE YEAR

“Udhero Na” written by Arooj Aftab, performed by Arooj Aftab featuring Anoushka Shankar
“Vini Wè” written and performed by Leyla McCalla
“Bright Star” written and performed by Anaïs Mitchell
“How” written by Marcus Mumford and Brandi Carlile, performed by Marcus Mumford featuring Brandi Carlile
“B61” written and performed by Aoife O’Donovan

The People’s Voice Award is presented to an individual who unabashedly embraces social and political commentary in their creative work and public careers. As an artist, Leyla McCalla has always traveled through time and space, opening the channels between lost or hidden touchstones of roots music and the present day. As a member of the Carolina Chocolate Drops and Our Native Daughters and in her solo work, the multi-instrumentalist and composer brings immediacy to long lost stories and shows how they survive and adapt through the flexible agents of rhythm, language, and intimate human connection. Her work is political and warmly welcoming, cerebral, and highly danceable. Based in New Orleans after growing up in a Haitian family in New York, McCalla makes music that adds detail to music’s maps and gives voice to people whose struggles and triumphs define its diasporic evolution. In 2022 she released the album Breaking the Thermometer, the culmination of her most complex project yet — a multimedia performance telling the story of the first independent radio station in Haiti. Breaking the Thermometer made Best of 2022 lists at NPR Music, PopMatters, and Mojo, in addition to former President Barack Obama’s list of favorite music for 2022.

The Rising Tide Award was launched in 2021 to celebrate a new generation (under 30) artist who inspires others by embodying the values and ideals of the folk community through their creative work, community role, and public voice. Award recipient Alisa Amador points folk music toward its future — a future that’s cosmopolitan, multifaceted, and multilingual; qualities that have in fact been at the community’s heart all along. Amador, who comes from a folk music family, grew up in Boston, Maine, Puerto Rico, and Argentina, and her songs show the influence of all of those places. A native Spanish speaker who’s spent most of her life in the States, Amador moves easefully between the two languages in her songwriting. As a high schooler, she studied jazz, and is known for sometimes scatting during performances. Amador’s ability to blend all of these influences within sharply rendered yet gently flowing songs helped her win NPR Music’s prestigious Tiny Desk Contest and Folk Artist of the Year at the Boston Music Awards.

Shambala Festival will receive the Clearwater Award, presented to a festival that prioritizes environmental stewardship and demonstrates public leadership in sustainable event production. Shambala Festival is a four-day contemporary performing arts festival in Northamptonshire, England. The festival is completely and utterly committed to being sustainable, circular, regenerative, net positive, earth and life respecting, and future thinking. They have reduced the festival’s carbon footprint by over 90%; achieved 100% renewable electricity; became meat, fish, and dairy-milk free; and eradicated single-use plastics. They’ve received many awards for their sustainability work, including the Innovation Award at the 2018 UK Festival Awards, the International A Greener Festival Award, the Outstanding Achievement Award at the Creative Green Awards in 2017, and more. The festival is Creative Green Certified and has committed to measuring and transparently reporting all of their impacts to provide an honest evaluation of their efforts. They work with independent third parties like Julie’s Bicycle to assess their performance and carbon footprint. The Clearwater Award is sponsored by Levitt Foundation.

The Spirit of Folk Awards are presented to honor and celebrate people and organizations actively involved in the promotion and preservation of folk music through their creative work, their community building, and their demonstrated leadership. This year’s recipients are as follows:

Steve Edge has been presenting folk music in Vancouver as a DJ on CiRT since 1985, and concerts and festivals throughout the city since 1986, initially independently, and then as a co-founder of The Rogue Folk Club in 1987 where he continues to present Celtic, folk, and roots music as its artistic director. Steve was an inaugural member of FAI in 1989, is an inductee into the British Columbia Entertainment Hall of Fame, and a recipient of the Unsung Hero award from the Canadian Folk Music Awards.

Amy Reitnouer Jacobs is a founder and the executive director of L.A.-based the Bluegrass Situation, an online music destination and promoter of roots, folk, and Americana music and culture. She joined the board of FAI in 2015 and was instrumental in refining and codifying the recruitment process for board elections as chair of the Nominations Committee. Amy served as board president through the pandemic and supported FAI’s recent strategic plan and executive director transition.

Marcy Marxer is the creator of All Wigged Out, a poignant and witty musical theatre production (and now film) recounting her harrowing triumph over breast cancer. Painfully funny, it is an example of the power of music and humor to inform and heal. Marxer, along with her partner Cathy Fink, is a multi-Grammy Award nominee and recipient, and together they have been recognized with over 60 Washington Area Music Association Awards for their folk, bluegrass, and children’s music recordings.

Adrian Sabogal is an acclaimed musician, producer, and researcher who founded Marimbea, an organization dedicated to the well-being of the Afro-Colombian communities from the country’s South Pacific coast. By arranging music-centered cultural tourism excursions, Marimbea strives to generate alternative sources of income, knowledge exchanges, and support networks for artists in marginalized and remote communities. Adrian’s work has had an impact on the economic development in the region, and the preservation of a vibrant and unique musical tradition.

Pat Mitchell Worley is the President and CEO of the Memphis-based Soulsville Foundation, which oversees the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, Stax Music Academy, and The Soulsville Charter School, all with a mission to perpetuate the soul of Stax Records. She is the longtime co-host of Beale Street Caravan, a syndicated roots radio show broadcast, and she regularly hosts artist Q&As for the Grammy Museum Mississippi and Oxford American. She is a former development director for the Memphis Music Foundation, and a past employee of the Blues Foundation.

The Folk DJ Hall of Fame was established to recognize radio DJs who have made an outstanding contribution to the preservation, promotion, and presentation of folk music, and who have demonstrated and inspired leadership in the broadcast field. Inducted DJs include the following:

Robert Resnik has been the host of All the Traditions, Vermont Public Radio’s folk and world music program, since 1996. Hooked on music since the 1960s, Robert previously spent many years on-air at WRUV at the University of Vermont. All the Traditions is as eclectic as Robert’s musical taste, but is dedicated to promoting music created by people living in the VPR broadcast area, which includes all of Vermont and parts of New Hampshire, New York, and Quebec. Robert also plays more than 25 instruments, and has performed and recorded CDs with a variety of musical combos for kids and adults.

Marilyn Rea Beyer hosted her first concert in junior high as the school band emcee. She got on board The Midnight Special listening to WFMT as a Chicago teenager. She has had careers in education, PR, and high tech. In 1995, Marilyn became on-air host and music director at Boston’s premiere folk station, WUMB-FM, and served on the board of the legendary Club Passim. Returning to Chicago, Marilyn joined WFMT in 2020, hosting The Midnight Special and now Folkstage. The Midnight Special launched in 1953 and maintained legendary status under Rich Warren’s stewardship. She says that judicious risk-taking, nurturing artists, and falling in love with new music make the job fun.

John Platt has hosted the Sunday Supper (formerly Sunday Breakfast) for 25 years at WFUV, New York, and has curated On Your Radar, a monthly showcase for emerging artists at Rockwood Music Hall in New York City for 17 years. He has founded the not-for-profit New Folk Initiative, which has extensive resources for the folk community at newfolk.org. He began his career at WMMR Philadelphia in 1969, programmed WXRT Chicago and WRVR New York, worked at WNEW-FM and WNYC, and produced national radio programs.

Harry B. Soria Jr. was known as a radio personality and walking encyclopedia of Hawaiian music history. The musicologist, award-winning liner notes writer, and record producer was the son of prominent local broadcaster and songwriter Harry B. Soria Sr. Ironically, Harry B.’s interest in Hawaiian music was sparked by hearing “cool” old records far from Hawaiian shores while at college in San Francisco. Upon returning to Hawai’i, he bonded with his dad over his vintage Hawaiian records. Harry B.’s passion for music from this period led to guest spots on KCCN in 1976 and his weekly Territorial Airwaves radio show of recordings from his personal collection. In 2019, Territorial Airwaves became the longest-running Hawaiian music show in radio history. Soria’s record collection and archives are being donated to the Hawaii State Archives.

Pictured, top row: Leyla McCalla, Molly Tuttle, Taj Mahal, Prateek Kuhad, Anaïs Mitchell. Bottom row: Jake Blount, Janis Ian, Angélique Kidjo & Ibrahim Maalouf, Aoife O’Donovan, Anoushka Shankar.

MIXTAPE: Steve Dawson’s Crash Course in Slide Guitar and Steel Guitar

Posted on by Editor

Slide guitar has been a lifelong fascination for me. I got into it when my uncle gave me a slide for my birthday when I was about 13. I had no idea how to use it, but eventually figured it out by copying Mick Taylor on Sticky Fingers, and I went from there. I’ve gone pretty deep, and find the roots of slide to be very fascinating. I’d like to share this playlist with you to show you some of the music that has inspired me in my journey. It definitely favors the early generations of players from the ’20s to the ’70s, but this playlist is meant to show you where it all comes from and what inspired me.

There wasn’t much slide going on in the ’80s that I was interested in as a kid, but there certainly are a lot of great players around now in the post-Derek Trucks era. In showing you where my influences are, this is a pretty good list. It covers blues, Hawaiian, jazz, rock, experimental, the whole nine yards. I even get into pedal steel a little bit, as there are a few important ones for me, but I won’t go too far into that world. I like how this playlist works totally out of chronological order, I hope you do, too. Enjoy! — Steve Dawson

King Bennie Nawahi – “Hawaiian Capers”

King Bennie is my favorite of all the pre-war Hawaiian players. He was very creative and inspired, and played in lots of different bands. He was basically a vaudeville/street performer who also recorded. I wrote a song, loosely based on his life on my new album, but this is one of his great performances.

Tampa Red – “Reckless Man Blues”

Tampa Red was probably the most sophisticated player of the pre-war slide players. He had sort of a jazz sensibility but could also get down in the greasy stuff. I like both of those aspects of his playing.

Kevin Breit – “Uncle John’s Third Wife”

Kevin is a brilliant musician from Toronto who I got to know and play with a number of times. He is incredible to watch and can shred with the best of them, but his compositions are often haunting and beautiful like this one. He put out a resonator/slide record some years ago called “empty” that remains one of my favorite albums to this day.

Jim and Bob – “The Song of the Range”

This duo was so creative and impressive. Their arrangements were top-notch and the playing is phenomenal. So fast, clean and sophisticated. They were obviously hip to a lot of the jazz horn players of the day.

Tedeschi Trucks Band – “Made Up Mind”

To me, slide players fall into the pre and post-Derek Trucks camp. There are things that he does as a player that no one did before and pretty much anyone that learned to play since he’s been around has been influenced by him, and you can tell. There’s tons of great Derek Trucks stuff out there, but I always dug this melodic, yet ripping solo.

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys – “Steel Guitar Rag”

Bob wasn’t the steel player — Leon McAuliffe was. This is basically the bible of electric steel guitar playing. It’s not the most complex, or the flashiest, but most modern steel and slide playing can eventually be traced back to this ripping little number. Dig Bob doing the cat calls throughout!

Sonny Landreth – “Yokamama”

Sonny came out of the Louisiana Zydeco scene and played with John Hiatt on tour and on some great records. This is a very cool instrumental that was a big influence on me when it first came out. He really sent slide guitar in some new directions with innovative techniques.

Elmore James – “The Sky Is Crying”

Elmore basically electrified the slide and popularized the riff that anyone with an open-tuned guitar first learns to play. It’s kind of ruined electric slide guitar if you go and see a blues band at your local bar, but when you hear the guy that invented it do it this well with such tone, it’s a whole different ball of wax!

Ry Cooder – “How Can You Keep on Moving?”

For me, this has everything I like about slide playing rolled up into one song and one solo. It’s probably my favorite piece of recorded electric slide guitar ever made. Sort of simple, but incredibly difficult to play this well. It’s got all the great playing of the early era Ry and the tone is unreal. It’s cool that the solo is acoustic and the rest of the song is electric. And the rhythm playing is insanely cool throughout.

Ben Harper – “Manhattan”

I saw Ben Harper in Vancouver in about ’93 before his first album came out. He was opening for Tommy Emmanuel. There were about 10 people there. Ben played totally acoustic and it blew my mind. I’ve never forgotten that show. For me, and what I like about his playing, which is raw simplicity and soul, his recent album (all instrumental) Wintertime Is For Lovers is the best thing he’s ever done and it brings me back to that concert.

Roy Smeck – “12th Street Rag”

Smeck was a vaudeville guy and also quite widely recorded. He’s a phenomenal slide player and also just as great on regular guitar and ukulele. He had one of the earliest signature model guitars — the Gibson Roy Smeck.

Sol Hoopii – “Patches”

Sol was one of the greatest Hawaiian players and was actually very famous at the time. He came to the mainland in the mid-’20s and kicked off a nationwide Hawaiian craze that influenced music and pop culture. It was said that Sol would get hired to come to movie sets and play songs like this one to make the stars all weepy before their crying scenes. Sol was magnificent.

Muddy Waters – “Long Distance Call”

Muddy was the link between Robert Johnson and Chicago blues — he electrified it and made it commercial and exciting. Not the technical expert that Johnson was, Muddy had tone and feel for days.

David Lindley – “Your Old Lady”

I love Lindley’s electric steel playing, but in the ’90s he devoted himself to more acoustic music, although his instruments are always plugged in and sound massive. He had a few duos with percussionists like Hani Nasser and Wally Ingram that are phenomenal. The Weissenborn playing of this period of his career was hugely influential to me, but none of it is available in the digital realm, so here’s a great one from the ’80s.

Taj Mahal – “Statesboro Blues”

I love Duane Allman, and he’s on this list, of course, but if you can listen to this version of this song and tell me he didn’t get 90% of what he does from Jesse Ed Davis playing with Taj on this one, I’ll buy you a sandwich.

Allman Brothers – “Trouble No More”

Duane Allman at his finest. This one was huge for me.

Mick Taylor – “Sway”

I got into slide because of Sticky Fingers. I had no idea how to do it or what he was doing, or even who he was yet, but it was Mick Taylor who got me into it and especially considering he wasn’t 20 years old at this point, it’s pretty insane. The first solo on this one is Mick playing. And I’m pretty sure it’s Mick Jagger playing the other guitar part, not Keith.

Bill Frisell – “The Pioneers”

This is the song that got me into playing pedal steel. I’m not going to go down the pedal steel rabbit hole on this playlist, but this song and steel solo (by Greg Leisz) definitely changed my life, so I thought I’d include it.

Jerry Douglas – “The Hymn of Ordinary Motion”

Jerry has redefined the dobro as an instrument capable of playing in all genres, not just bluegrass. He came from a bluegrass background, but has gone on to be one of the great instrumentalists of our time. He is also very prolific and has tons of records to pick from, but this is an interesting one and shows his killer melodic playing that everyone who plays the dobro copies to one extent or another.

Blind Willie Johnson – “Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground”

I mean, if one song shows the power of slide guitar at its moodiest, this is the one. Frightening, all these decades later.

Photo Credit: Laura Partain

Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder Reunite to Honor a Duo That Few People Have Heard Of

Posted on by Editor

“No, no, no, no.”

Ry Cooder is quick to put something to rest as he talks by phone from his home in the hills above Pasadena, California.

Yes, he and Taj Mahal went a full 54 years between recording projects together — from Cooder playing on Mahal’s 1968 solo debut, which grew from them co-fronting the band Rising Sons, to right now for the duo album Get on Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. The thing is, in the decades that harmonica master Sonny Terry and Piedmont blues virtuoso Brownie McGhee worked regularly together, from 1939 to the early 1980s, they were often at odds, sometimes not even speaking to each other off stage.

But no, there were no rifts between Cooder and Mahal, no disputes, no bad feelings that kept them apart.

“Nothing like that!” Cooder insists. “No, no, no!”

The time between projects?

“Musicians, you know,” Cooder says. “He travels around all the time.”

Yet, in other regards…

“It’s funny,” says Mahal, on a separate call between tour stops, “because we’ve actually become the men that we admired. We’re the new version of it, you know? So, it’s like full circle. It’s a wonderful thing to have really accomplished that, to be in a life in music.”

The way Cooder and Mahal have become the men they admired, presumably, is in the role of elder statesmen keeping traditions alive. They are honoring and, in highly personalized ways, refreshing the music with deep ties to past generations and cultures. That full circle — global circumnavigations, really — has seen them explore a wealth of music and cultures, from Cooder’s key role in Cuban group Buena Vista Social Club projects, to Mahal’s drawing on the Afro-Caribbean roots of his musician/arranger father. Their individual efforts include collaborations with musicians from Africa and India, just for starters. But with this album they each go back to where the sparks for all that first happened.

For Cooder, it started with the first Terry/McGhee collaborative recording, also called Get on Board, a key release in the essential catalog Mo Asch created on his Folkways label. In fact, the new tribute album not only uses the title but has cover art that is an homage as well. The full title of that 1953 album was the now archaic Get on Board: Negro Folksongs by the Folkmasters.

Sonny Terry had come to some mainstream recognition as part of the original cast of Finian’s Rainbow on Broadway in the late 1940s, and as a pair he and Brownie McGhee were featured in the Broadway productions of Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Langston Hughes’ Simply Heaven. They were also championed by Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and Harry Belafonte, among other prominent supporters. But for young Cooder, this record was a discovery marked by its vibrant energy, with Terry and McGhee joined by one Coyal McMahan on vocals and percussion.

“It’s a great record,” Cooder says. “You’ve got the mysterious Coyal McMahan on bass voice, sort of a church bass, and maracas. They should have kept him on. I don’t know why they didn’t. He added a whole other quality to it. I don’t know who he was and nobody knows at this point.”

The new album features three of the eight songs on the Terry/McGhee set — “Midnight Special,” “Pick a Bale of Cotton” and “I Shall Not Be Moved.” Its remaining songs are part of the icons’ other recording and live repertoire, from the reverent “What a Beautiful City” to the carousing “Drinkin’ Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee” to the double-entendre “Deep Sea Diver” to the down-and-out “Pawn Shop Blues.”

Adding their own touches to the songs, Cooder and Mahal recorded mostly live in the living room of Cooder’s son, Joachim, who also played various percussion instruments and bass, sort of filling the McMahan role (and more). They didn’t seek to recreate the originals. What they did do, was have fun.

“That was the intent,” Cooder says. “I mean, it seemed to me that we could pull it off and keep that feeling that those guys had back then. I don’t want to say ‘jolly,’ but foot-tapping, nice music. They had gone for a white audience, I’m pretty sure, at that point anyway. So, you couldn’t very well play very dark music at white people in those days. They wouldn’t know what you were talking about, what it was for. By the time they started recording together, I guess, black popular music had changed radically.”

Cooder is conscious of the radical changes since then in music and culture, in particular noting “Pick a Bale of Cotton.”

“They’re still really good songs,” he says. “And I think people will like hearing them as much now as they liked hearing them back when Brownie and Sonny did them. It’s a different time now. Of course everybody’s consciousness is totally different. I mean, everything is different.”

That’s part of the point, not to let the music that inspired them get lost.

“It just feels like old times,” Cooder says. “I have those records from when I was a little kid, so I can dig it. I remember how it used to make me feel listening to the record, how tremendous it was, how exciting it was.”

The circle for Mahal goes back to the early 1960s, when he was a student at the University of Massachusetts.

“There was a whole network for folk music and blues and bluegrass and country and all that old-time stuff in and around the Northeast sector,” he says. “I was like 19, 20 years old. And those guys were coming through and playing at local coffee houses. You could get to see them quite a bit. And I thought they were just an incredible powerhouse duo.”

A couple of years later, Mahal, who had started playing on the folk circuit himself, encountered a guitarist with a great feel for blues.

“I said, ‘Well, where the heck did you learn how to play like that?’” Mahal remembers. “And he said, ‘Well, you know, I took some lessons from this guy out in California named Ry. I said, ‘Do you think that guy might like to be in a band?’ And he said, ‘Well, he’s only 17 years old.’ I said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ And I said, ‘I guess I have to go to California.’”

And he did. When they connected, a love for Terry and McGhee was one of their bonds. Cooder, too, had seen the duo play a few times by then, the first coming when they played at the opening night of the Ash Grove, a Hollywood club that would become the center of the California folk and blues scene.

“My mother took me down there,” Cooder says. “I was 13 or so. I sat there and watched them. My gosh! It was something to see the whole thing come to life. You know, it was a tremendous impression when you’re young like that.”

And when they’re not-so-young. (Cooder just turned 75 and Mahal will be 80 in May.) They first chatted about teaming for a project after Cooder joined Mahal at the 2014 Americana Music Honors & Awards at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium on Blind Willie McTell’s “Statesboro Blues,” a staple in the Rising Sons repertoire and a standout on Mahal’s 1968 album. That latter version, which featured Jesse Ed Davis on electric slide guitar, is reputedly the recording on which the Allman Brothers’ rendition was modeled.

When Cooder suggested an album honoring Terry and McGhee, Mahal was, well, on board. “Those guys are foundational titans,” Mahal says. “Here’s a guitarist and harmonica player that spanned 40 years, at least.”

But these musicians are also largely forgotten, which adds a sense of mission to this project, to rekindle interest in the guys whose recordings and concerts meant so much to them.

“If you stood on a corner and did an exit poll and talked to a million people, none of them would know who they are,” Cooder says. “They’ve been completely overlooked. I don’t know anybody that’s ever heard of them or remembers who the hell they were, except for musicians who have made it a point to keep certain things in mind. It’s like bluegrass. If you keep Bill Monroe or Reno & Smiley in mind, it’s that kind of thing. That’s how you live, and that’s how you evoke things, this memory that you have of these records.”

Photo Credit: Abby Ross

WATCH: Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder, “Hooray Hooray”

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Artist: Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder
Album: Get on Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee
Release Date: April 22, 2022
Label: Nonesuch Records

In Their Words: “When the folk era came, and Brownie and Sonny started to work folk clubs, my mother would drive me to Haight-Ashbury. And the first time, of course, Brownie came with his limp because he had polio as a child and he had a built-up shoe about yea big. And Sonny was blind, so here’s this guy way-limping, leading this blind man, and they came in — ‘Hello, everybody. Hello, ladies and gentlemen.” And hit it! It was like, ‘God! This is so good!'” — Ry Cooder

“I guess I started hearing them when I was about 19 and they were coming around. I wanted to go to these different coffee houses because I heard that these old guys were playing. I could play a little bit. I learned some stuff from my neighbor, because I wasn’t a guitar player. I knew a few licks on the guitar and played some Jimmy Reed music, but I knew that there was a river out there somewhere that I could get into, and once I got in it, I’d be all right and I could just stay in it. They brought the whole package for me. If we wanted to send somebody out to see somebody who was doing something good — ‘Go out and see Sonny and Brownie.'” — Taj Mahal

Photo Credit: Abby Ross