Tag: The Kinks

The Seldom Scene: a New Release, a New Member, and a Farewell to a Revered Singer

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

After 53 years and 23 albums, the release of the newest Seldom Scene recording is still something to celebrate. Remains to Be Scene is their first recording since the death of founding banjo player Ben Eldridge in 2024 and the last before Dudley Connell announced his retirement. In addition to Connell, the album features Fred Travers on Dobro, bassist Ronnie Simpkins, mandolinist Lou Reid, and Ron Stewart on fiddle and banjo.

Since its earliest days, the Seldom Scene has been known for busting open once-limiting bluegrass boundaries. The latest album continues this tradition, with songs pulled from sources like The Kinks, Woody Guthrie, and Jim Croce. Another tradition is incorporating new talent.

In 1995, three of five band members left to form another group. Looking to replace them, founding member John Duffey invited Simpkins, Connell, and Travers to a picking session. To those who didn’t know him, Duffey, with his huge stage personality, was intimidating.

Remembering that day, Simpkins said, “I did not want to be late, but I did not want to be early. So, I got there way ahead of time, and I kept an eye on John’s house to see who else got there.

“And I noticed this other car down the street. That person was just sitting there and would ease the car up closer to John’s as the time drew near. And I came to find out it was Dudley. So, we timed it until Ben got there, and we all went in together.”

Simpkins takes Connell’s retirement as a continuation of the band’s legacy: “The band has always transitioned.” Today he welcomes Clay Hess, a band leader and a former lead guitar player with Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, who stepped in quickly when Connell, injured in a fall, was unable to play the last few shows of 2024.

As always, the Seldom Scene is committed to the same scalp-tingling vocals, remarkable song selection, and quirky, sometimes outrageous, stage shows that fill festival seats after five decades. Simpkins said, “I just feel blessed to be in this group … and to try to keep the same spirit the original guys had when they started out back in 1971.”

On the release of his last recording as a Seldom Scene member, Dudley Connell spoke to BGS about Remains to Be Scene, his musical career – starting in the 1970s – and his memories of some of the greatest characters in bluegrass.

The Seldom Scene has a tradition of pulling songs from everywhere and the latest recording is the same way. How do you decide on songs?

Dudley Connell: If you look back at the Scene’s recording career, all the way back to the original guys, it was unique. John Duffey had very eclectic taste. He brought “Rider” into the band from the Grateful Dead. He brought “Sweet Baby James” in from James Taylor. And continuing that tradition, I brought in “Boots of Spanish Leather” by Bob Dylan and “Nadine” from Chuck Berry.

It’s interesting having a band of five people, all with slightly different tastes, but with commonality at the same time. So, that’s the way we’ve continued the work all the way through our 30 years together. Everybody would show up with a basketful of songs. Sometimes, Lou might bring a song in that he really liked and say to me, “I could hear you singing this more than me.” Likewise, I could say to Fred, “I really like this song, but I don’t think I could sing it as well as you could sing it.” And it worked that way really well.

How does a band stay together so long?

We, of course, spent a lot of time together, but we also spent a lot of time doing our own thing. Now, with [a band leader] like Bill Monroe or Ralph Stanley, they take the fee and then they give you whatever they want to pay you per show. But with the Scene, John [Duffey’s] feeling was that if you’re out there on the road and you’re doing the work, you deserve equal cut. So, everything we made was split equally. You could fly, you could drive, you could stay at the Waldorf Astoria, or you could stay at the Super Eight. It was your money to spend and to travel as you wanted.

I think it created a certain sense of camaraderie that continues to this day. Everybody’s getting paid the same, so everybody’s expected to do equal work, and it gives you a sense of belonging. There’s no boss, everybody has an equal say, and that was true from the very first rehearsal.

Every group you’ve been with has been known for exceptional harmonies. Can you talk about harmony a bit?

I think a musician’s greatest asset and greatest tool is his or her ears. If you’re singing a trio, you want the blend to be there. You don’t even have to actually know who’s singing what part. There’s a certain buzz you get when the harmony is just right, and you hit a chord just right, and everybody’s phrasing together, and their mouths are in the same sort of position. When that happens, this is just like magic.

Let’s go back to the Johnson Mountain Boy days, when I first met Richard Underwood. Richard learned to sing with me. When we sang together and I switched from lead to tenor on a chorus, you could hardly hear the switch. It came natural to him, because I’m the only person he ever sang with. You know, he later went on to become a great singer on his own right, but he was the first singer that I really worked with a lot on blending and making a pleasing sound.

Now, my experience with David McLaughlin was more organic, as it was with Don Rigsby. Don and David and I all grew up as disciples of the Stanley Brothers. They had such a tight blend.

Now a more challenging partner for me was Hazel Dickens. Hazel and I toured quite a bit together in the ’70s and ’80s. But Hazel had a completely different sort of approach. Hazel was full bore, wide open all the time, and sometimes she could get just a little bit pitchy. I looked at it as my job to try to keep her close to the melody. It was great for me, because it taught me how to blend and also how to pull her to the proper pitch when necessary.

When I came to work with The Scene, it was completely different. They were all about the harmony.

What are your memories of The Scene before you joined them?

The Scene were a huge influence on everybody in D.C. The Scene was almost like a gateway drug to bluegrass music. They were largely playing for urban audiences in the early days, and a lot of young people really responded to it. In fact, The Seldom Scene record Live at the Cellar Door almost has cult-like status. When I was a teenager, we’d go to each other’s houses to listen to music. Right next to Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan would be The Seldom Scene Live at the Cellar Door.

I think what made that record so absolutely deserving of cult status is that it’s really freewheeling, it’s really the band live. It’s not just the music and the wonderful singing, the wonderful song selection. It’s also the playfulness with the audience.

As far as I was concerned, John Duffey was The Scene. It wasn’t just that he was a great singer and instrumentalist, but also he had this gift – presenting the music to all kinds of different audiences. You couldn’t not respond to John Duffey or his emcee work – or his pants, for that matter. An interesting thing about John that a lot of people don’t realize is that he was actually kind of shy, kind of insecure. This bigger-than-life character that emerged on stage – I’m not saying that it was phony. It really was John. But when he walked on stage, it was like a switch kicked on, and he became a great entertainer and a great communicator.

I think people who weren’t familiar with bluegrass, it put them at ease a little bit. It drew a lot of people in who maybe wouldn’t have paid attention to a banjo or a Dobro. All entertainers feed off audiences. If you’ve got a really lively, energetic audience, you pour a lot of that back. If the audience feels more relaxed, you slow down a little bit with your delivery and your introductions. And John was an absolute master of that. I learned a lot about presenting a show from my year with John.

And how did you come to play with The Scene?

The Johnson Mountain Boys were on their way out. I’d done a little bit of work with Longview by this time. Then I got this notice in the mail that T. Michael Coleman, Mike Auldridge, and Moondi Kline were leaving the Scene and forming a band called Chesapeake. And it was sort of assumed that the Scene were going to dissolve. I knew John well enough and I called him on the phone and said, “John, I’m really sorry to hear about this. It sounds like the end of an era.”

And he said in the off-the-cuff, John Duffey style of talk, “Well, we’re really not dissolving the band. We’re just looking for a lead singer, guitar player, tenor singer, bass player, baritone singer, Dobro player.” You know, basically replacing three-fifths of the band. I don’t know where it came from, because I really had not called John looking for a job, but after he told me what he was looking for, I said, “Well, John, let’s get together and sing sometime.” Complete silence.

After the initial silence, he said, “Well, do you know of any of our stuff?”

So, I went over to John’s, and Ronnie was there, and Fred. John had given me about half a dozen songs to learn and when I look back at it now, he was testing me. He wanted to see if I could sing harmony parts over and under him. By that time, I’d had the experience with Hazel and had sung with a lot of different people. I was ready.

So, we started these Wednesday rehearsals and we’d done this for about two or three months in preparation for our debut – New Year’s Eve at The Birchmere, 1995. By the time it actually came to play our first show. I was really, really into it. And it was one of the toughest shows I think I ever played, because all the original guys were there – John Starling, Mike Auldridge, Tom Gray. Lou Reid was there, too. And I’m thinking, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know if I belong in this – with these people that I’ve listened to for years.”

One of the things I remember was our opening song, “Our Last Goodbye,” which is this old Stanley Brothers song. I had worn these baggy chino kind of pants and I was so grateful that I didn’t wear tight pants because my legs were literally shaking, and I didn’t want anybody to see that.

So, it was a very exciting night, and after that we had a year with John.

You were quite young when you formed the Johnson Mountain Boys. Can you tell us about those years?

I came along at a very fortunate time in the Washington, D.C. area in the ’70s, and actually on through the ’80s as well. You could see bluegrass every night of the week between Washington and Baltimore.

Now, I’m not going to tell you that the places were swank and nice. They were kind of seedy bars. But when I look back on it now I think that was actually a very beneficial thing for us. We were young, we were very enthusiastic about the music, and we could go into these bars and play four or five sets ’til, you know, one or two in the morning … and then go play another one the next night. So, by the time that the ’80s rolled around and we started actually playing festivals for larger crowds, we were pretty well rehearsed.

I found that the musicians that we met, like Del McCoury and Bill Harrell and a lot of the acts around Washington, embraced us because we were doing something different – actually doing something [traditional bluegrass] that had been done before, but we were kids doing it.

Ben Eldridge– the first time I ever met him, we were playing this indoor bluegrass event. Ben came over and said, “I wish I was doing what you guys are doing.” I know that he was kidding me, but the point being that he really respected the traditional stuff. He said it because he was very sweet man and very kind man. But I think there was some truth in that, too.

How much time was there between you playing in the two bands?

We actually intertwined for just a little bit. When we got off the road full-time in 1988, we were kind of burned out. I went back to college. David [McLaughlin] started selling real estate. Eddie [Stubbs] went to work with his father and we just sort of drifted apart, personally and musically.

Now, we did get together and play some in the ’90s and we produced a record that was nominated for a GRAMMY, Blue Diamond. But that was not like the previous Johnson Mountain Boy records. So, The Seldom Scene coming along at that time in my life, when I was curious about experimenting with different kinds of music, was perfect.

They played a lot locally and I was working full-time for the Smithsonian and didn’t want to travel very much. And the Scene, to this day, has followed that model. We don’t get on the tour bus and go out for weeks at a time. It reminds me of the reason John Duffey left the Country Gentleman. He said he got tired of saving up to go on tour. I understand what he meant. They were just going out trying to get their name out there. The Johnson Mountain Boys did the same thing. I remember once we drove to Florida to play for 900 bucks for three days.

That’s another thing that John did, he just set the price to where it made it worth his while to go. Here’s a kind of famous John Duffey story: A promoter in California called John and said, “I really, really like what you’re doing, and I’d like to get you out here to California.” John said, “Great! Make me an offer.” The promoter said, “Will 500 bucks do it?”

John thought for a minute and said, “Which one of us do you want?”

I’d like to talk a bit about your career as an archivist. Did you go to school to learn that?

Actually, I didn’t. After the Johnson Mountain Boys got off the road, I went back to college. One of my classes was Career Development. There were a lot of people around my age who were looking for a change in their work and their livelihoods.

One of my assignments was to interview someone that I thought had a really interesting job. So, I chose to interview the curator and the director of Smithsonian Folkways records. His name was Tony Seeger, and yes, he is a part of the Mike and Pete Seeger world. The Smithsonian had just acquired Folkways Records. I went into the interview asking Tony how he got his job, what his educational background was, how he ended up at Smithsonian Folkways, what his life was like. About halfway through the interview, he started asking me about my background and what I’ve been doing.

Before I left his office, he basically hired me to come in and try to figure out how to how to keep Folkways alive.

And then you did archive work for another organization?

It’s called the National Council for the Traditional Arts. Since 1933 they have put on folk festivals with all kinds of ethnic and roots music. They started recording all the festivals in 1972. When I got there, they were just quite a thing of beauty – 5,000 hours of one-of-a-kind recordings in a non-climate-controlled room. So, I went to work there, preserving the recordings. And oddly enough, the very first that I put up to digitize was Alison Krauss. I thought, “I think I found the right place.” I worked there for 19 years.

Why retire now, and what’s next?

My wife, Sally, had retired from 40 years at the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum. I had retired from the National Council for Traditional Arts. This would have been the end of 2023, so I was still traveling on the weekends.

During the pandemic, we got a dog named Woody. It’s almost like having a child in the house. He was adopted and he was afraid of everything, so we spent a lot of time with him. Before that, Sally used to travel with me everywhere and it got to be that she had to stay home and take care of the dog when I was out on the road. I wanted to have time to travel, to Europe and to different places that I’d not really been able to explore. I think it’s a misconception some people have about a traveling musician: “Wow, you got to go to all these great, cool places. You must have seen a lot.”

Well, I saw a lot of hotel rooms. I saw a lot of backstages, but I didn’t see some of the things these towns are known for. What Sally and I want to do now is, while we’re in reasonably good health and while we can still get around well on our feet, we want to do some traveling and not be restricted by a schedule.

Favorite memories?

Marrying Sally, definitely a favorite memory. In the ’80s, an organization called the United States Information Agency USA had a subgroup called Arts America. They created cultural exchanges with third world countries. I got to travel to Southern Africa and later Southeast Asia. You can’t buy that kind of education. It’s quite an eye opening event. I remember coming back from those trips and having a different way of looking at my lifestyle and where I live and how fortunate we are.

Another highlight was getting to meet my heroes and finding out that they were really nice people who didn’t want anything more than to see me and our bands, whether it be the Seldom Scene or the Johnson Mountain Boys, succeed. I never felt any jealousy or any animosity, you know, toward us, these young upstarts. In the ’70s and ’80s, everybody knew everybody, and everybody wanted everybody else to succeed.

But probably the biggest thing was having a year with John Duffey and many years with Ben Eldridge; hearing their stories, the hardships, and the fun stuff and the silliness that happens on the road. All those things are highlights for me.

Closing thoughts?

The music of the Scene is completely unique to anything else in the bluegrass world. I think the Scene could follow just about anybody. We followed Alison Krauss and we followed Ricky Skaggs, and I never really felt uptight about our performance following these major acts, because nobody else does what the Scene does. That’s true with Clay Hess taking my place, too. I’ve heard some of their performances on Facebook – sounds like the Seldom Scene to me.

I feel like I’ve lived a very full life. It’s like when Tony Trischka was asked, “Tony, have you been playing banjo all your life?” He answered, “Not yet.”

That’s the way I feel about music – I’m not done yet.

Photo Credit: Jeromie Stephens

MIXTAPE: Bridget Kearney’s Photographic Memories

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

From my early days of being photo editor of my high school newspaper to my current tour hobby of photographing bizarre regional potato chip flavors in their native lands for @chipscapes, I have long held a fascination for photography. As life rushes by us at a mile a minute a camera has the ability to freeze the frame for a second, capture a moment in time, and provide photographic evidence that the moment actually existed. Though the waves may have crashed into your impossibly magnificent sand castle, you can keep it standing forever in a photo. And though time may have drowned out a love that once burned impossibly bright, a security camera may have accidentally captured the most blissful moments of that love and if you can track down the footage and find those moments, you could potentially kick back on the couch and watch those moments on infinite loop forever.

This is the premise of my song, “Security Camera,” from my new album Comeback Kid. Beyond that song, the subject of photos, memories, and trying to hold on to a moment for what it was, to love that moment forever in spite of its ephemeral nature, weaves its way through the album as a common thread. I put together a playlist of songs on the theme of cameras and memory and it turns out a lot of my favorite songwriters and biggest influences have also been fascinated by this subject. Recorded music is basically the audio version of a photo/video, so it makes sense. Hope you enjoy these songs as much as I do. – Bridget Kearney

“Kamera” – Wilco

Jeff Tweedy seems to be using the camera as a self-revealing truth teller in this song. He’s lost his grip on reality and only a camera can tell him “which lies that I been hiding.” I have loved Wilco for a long time and have a very specific visual memory of listening to them on headphones in college: I was on a semester abroad in Morocco and I was going for a run along the beach in Essaouira and came upon these big sand dunes. I spontaneously decided to run up to the top of the dunes and then bound down them into the water. This joyous discovery of dune jumping on a perfect sunny day will always be soundtracked to Wilco’s song “Theologians” in my mind.

“Kodachrome” – Paul Simon

Paul Simon was always playing around the house when I was growing up and this song has a particular significance to the origin story of my band, Lake Street Dive: We were on one of our first tours and we were driving my parent’s minivan around the Midwest. The only way to listen to music in the van was through the CD player. It was in the pre-streaming era where we all would have had a big library of digital music on our laptops (probably illegally downloaded from Napster or the like). So we decided to co-create a mystery mix CD by passing around someone’s laptop and letting each of us put in songs one-by-one, not telling each other what we’d put it in. Then we burned out the mystery mix CD and listened to it together.

As four students studying jazz at a conservatory we had mostly listened to Charles Mingus and The Bad Plus together thus far, but the mystery mix exposed all four of us pop music fiends. Song after song kept coming on and we’d go, “Oh my god, you like Lauryn Hill too?!” and “You also know every lyric to David Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars’?!” This culminated in the moment when the mystery mix played Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome” THREE TIMES IN A ROW! That was when we knew we should be a band forever. The groove on this song is also part of the inspiration for the song “If You’re Driving” from Comeback Kid.

“Hey Ya” – Outkast

Not actually a song about photos and you’re not actually supposed to shake Polaroid pictures, but Andre 3000 is one of the greatest musicians of our time and I’ve learned so much from him about music and language and spirit! Also this song is a total jam.

“Security Camera” – Bridget Kearney

I live in Brooklyn and there are security cameras everywhere here – at the bodegas, at the clubs, on the rooftops. Their purpose is to capture criminals in the act of committing a crime, but they are also capturing so many other things. Everyday things and extraordinary things. Moments of extreme beauty and moments of extreme pain. The idea behind this song is to track down security camera footage of the very best moments of your life so you can watch them on repeat.

“Pictures Of Me” – Elliott Smith

I went through a huge Elliott Smith phase in college and had an instrumental Elliott Smith cover band. His harmonies and melodies are so good that you don’t even need the lyrics, but adding them in, of course, makes it all the better. This one seems to say that pictures can lie to you, too.

“Picture In a Frame” – Tom Waits

This is one of those songs that seems like it has existed forever. “Ever since I put your picture in a frame” sounds to me like he is saying, “Ever since I decided to love you.”

“Body” – Julia Jacklin

My friend Michael Leviton (a great photographer and musician!) told me about this song and its passing but gutting reference to a photo. We were talking about how I had realized that a lot of my songs are about cameras and photography and how funny it is to look back at your own songs and see patterns and discover what you’ve been obsessed with the whole time. Michael said his thing is “curtains,” which appear over and over again in his songs.

“Bad Self Portraits” – Lake Street Dive

A song I wrote for Lake Street Dive years ago about what happens when the person you want to take a picture of steps out of the frame. What you’re left with and how to make the most of it.

“Videotape” – Radiohead

I always thought this song was about when you die and you are at the pearly gates of heaven, they are deciding whether you get in or not and watch back videotapes of your life to see if you were good or bad. I don’t know if that’s what Radiohead meant, but that’s my interpretation! The production is so cool, the way the drum loop is slightly off tempo and moves around the phrase slowly as it cycles around. Damn, Radiohead is so cool!!

There are a few songs on Comeback Kid that are directly Radiohead influenced. “Sleep In” is like Radiohead meets Ravel (or that’s what I was going for!) When I graduated from Iowa City West High School, I arranged a version of “Paranoid Android” that some friends and I played instrumentally at the graduation ceremony. In retrospect, that is a really weird song for us to have played at graduation! But I think it’s cool that they let us be brooding teenagers and go for it.

“When the Lights Go Out” – Sarah Jarosz

The song that gave Sarah’s brilliant new record its title, Polaroid Lovers. I feel so inspired by the music that my friends make, and Sarah’s songs from this album really knocked me off my feet when I heard the album and even more so when I heard them live!

“People Take Pictures of Each Other” – The Kinks

A festive little song about taking photos of things to prove that they existed.

“I Bet Ur” – Bridget Kearney

This is a song from the album I put out last year, Snakes of Paradise. The narrative is built around seeing a picture of something that you don’t want to see, letting your imagination fill in the details, and learning to accept it as truth.

“I Turn My Camera On” – Spoon

Groove goals. The camera here puts a bit of distance between you and the world.

“Photograph” – Ringo Starr

A song about photographs by my favorite Beatle? Yes, please!

“My Funny Valentine” – Chet Baker

I love Chet Baker’s singing, his pure, dry, affectless delivery, his deadpan panache. And I love the way this song manages to rhyme “laughable” and “un-photographable” and stick the landing.

“Camera Roll” – Kacey Musgraves

Photography has been around for a long time now but carrying thousands of photos of our lives organized in chronological order in our pockets at all times is relatively new. And both wonderful and terrible.

“Come Down” – Anderson .Paak

Just a passing reference to pictures in this song, but I had to get Anderson .Paak on the playlist because he’s the best!

“Obsessed” – Bridget Kearney

A song about falling quickly, unexpectedly, insanely in love with someone and trying to understand how it happened. You look back at the pictures as evidence trying to gather clues, see the train of events that led to this madness.

Photo Credit: Rodneri

Town Mountain Tap Into the Spirit of Levon Helm for New EP

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Many things contribute to the most memorable recording projects, but according to genre-hopping bluegrass band Town Mountain, there’s nothing quite like working on hallowed ground.

For their new six-song EP, Dance Me Down Easy: The Woodstock Sessions (out January 18), the band had an unexpected chance to record at the upstate New York home/jam space/studio of roots music legend Levon Helm – and they wisely jumped at the chance. Produced by Justin Francis, the equally unexpected set finds Town Mountain tapping the spirit that made Helm and The Band so inspiring, leading to a uniquely funky addition to their catalog.

Built around deep-pocketed, deep-cut covers of tracks by Helm, The Kinks, J.J. Cale, Dire Straits, and The Rolling Stones, Dance Me Down Easy is filled with homespun soul and helps connect the dots between normally separate musical worlds. And as mandolin playing primary songwriter Phil Barker says, it wouldn’t be the same without Helm’s spiritual presence.

“It’ll be tough to top as far as a studio vibe, that’s always a big thing for us is the space we’re recording in,” Barker says. “It’s got to be an inspirational thing, and this place had inspiration for days.”

Speaking with BGS from the band’s hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, Barker did his best to describe a spur-of-the-moment, three-day musical getaway that turned into a bucket-list experience, and gave an already-adventurous band new license to rock.

This seems like the type of project where y’all got to let off some steam and have a little fun. Was it time for a change of pace?

Phil Barker: Well, our label New West was talking to us about recording some cover tunes [to] tie it over to our next record… and we had a show booked at Levon’s Barn, which was our first time playing there. From the other people we’d talked to, we knew this was going to be nothing but vibe and our routing worked out where we had a couple days at the end of the tour. So it was like, “Why don’t we just go back to the barn and hang out there for a few days?” …It was the perfect space to do this. No high pressure situation. It’s just like, “Let’s cut loose and have fun on songs that we enjoy.”

For people who might not know, what does Levon Helm’s barn represent in roots music?

For me, it’s kind of like one of the epicenters of the whole Americana genre. He had such a great way of bridging rock and roll with funk and country and traditional American music. And him as a musician in the bands that he was in, he was such a huge influence on everybody. This place was his spiritual center, where he would come and all the parties he would have there. All the creativity that happened in this space has just kind of generated this buzz within itself, and the word just spreads. Everybody we’d talked to was like, “Oh man, you’re going to love it there.” And we’ve told everybody since then like, “You got to go, man. You got to go there.” So any fan of music and traditional American music in particular, it’s a one of a kind of experience and we’ve always had it on our bucket list to go play. I’m so glad we got to do some recording there as well.

I knew there were jams held there, but I didn’t realize it was a full recording studio as well.

We talked to a lot of folks up there and the story goes that Levon decided he wanted to bring the party to him, he wanted to bring it to his space. So he created this barn literally on the back of his house. If you go through the back wall of the barn performance area, it’s his kitchen. So it’s literally his house and this beautiful property with a nice lake and all these woods. I mean, if you create a space like that and people are already playing music in there, they’re going to want to record. So there’s no fancy infrastructure for recording – it’s just a barn and there’s a couple baffles you can roll around, not isolation booths or anything – but it’s meant for a community kind of performance.

Take me through the first moment of walking in there. What did it feel like?

It’s like being in a church. Everybody just started walking around seeing all the spaces, and you go downstairs and there’s just endless Levon memorabilia on the walls. All these amazing pictures, all these random artifacts you’ll see nowhere else, and you can just feel all the creative energy that has happened in this space and it’s really kind of like buzzing. It was a really moving experience, honestly.

You’ve said that Levon had things figured out, musically? What do you mean by that?

Man, he just knew where the pocket was supposed to be. …It’s like he knew how to connect with the soul of any kind of music, and how it would connect with people.

Is that why you picked the songs you did? They represent a pretty wide swath of rock and roll.

It’s always a challenge to come up with cover tunes and we went through a bunch of ‘em. If it was meant for your band, I feel like you’ll know in the first couple of times you sit down together and play it. …We were open to every genre. Any suggestion was something we would try out if somebody was felt passionately about it. It just so happened that the ones that were working best with us in this particular situation, were more from the rock genre.

Town Mountain as a band has always had a bunch of that influence anyways, right?

Oh, absolutely. We had a Jay Farrar tune on the first record, so it’s always been on something we’ve embraced and not been afraid of.

“Dance Me Down Easy” ended up being the title song – one of Levon’s, but not The Band’s. Why did you pick that and not “Cripple Creek” or “The Weight” or something?

We wanted to pay a little homage to the stuff Levon did outside of The Band. That one’s from one of his killer solo records and something maybe people haven’t done as much. And honestly, it’s just fun to play. It’s like a funky dance tune that we don’t really do. We wanted to highlight that Levon was so much more than The Band, both as a musician and a person. So it was a natural fit.

The Kinks’ track “Strangers” really stood out, too. How did that get in the mix?

That was one of my picks. That song, I’ve just listened to it for years and I’ve always gravitated towards it. I’ll go through these phases where it’ll be on my Spotify mix and I’ll repeat it for literally 10 or 15 times in a row. I can just listen to that song forever because it really resonates with me. I love the writing and I love the feel, it’s really unique and I wanted to give it a little more country-rock vibe.

Did any of them surprise you with how they turned out?

Probably “So Far Away.” When we originally thought about that tune, it’s just like Dire Straits is so iconic and they have this laid-back vibe. It’s such a perfect fit for that tune. But at the same time, the lyrics are so country and we thought it would definitely fit with a pedal steel behind it. We kind of gave it a little bit of a Cajun swing feel.

Is this experience going to stay with you guys? Is the vibe something you’re able to take with you on the road?

That’s a great question. Hopefully we’ll incorporate it into more of the rest of our material, and find a way to tap into that. It’s a very space driven thing, so hopefully we can keep that in mind and let it guide our way in the future.

Photo Credit: David Simchok

MIXTAPE: Anthony d’Amato’s Train Songs

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While putting the finishing touches on my new record, At First There Was Nothing, I found myself living beside the tracks of the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad in southwestern Colorado. Widely considered one of the most scenic train trips on the continent, the jaw-dropping route stretches 45 miles through pristine wilderness, along impossibly narrow cliff ledges, and above roaring river rapids.

Though it was originally constructed in order to haul gold and silver ore from the otherwise inaccessible San Juan Mountains, these days it’s a tourist line beloved by sightseers, backpackers, and whitewater rafters. Even though the cargo has changed, the railroad is still powered by steam engines, just as it was 140 years ago when it first opened, and it’s hard not to fall in love with the sights and sounds and smells that go with it.

When it came time to make a video for the album’s lead single, “Long Haul,” I knew that I wanted to find a way to bring the railroad into it, and fortunately they were gracious enough to let us commandeer a caboose for the finale.

Returning to Durango for the project had me thinking about the strong connections between music and railroads. For as long as there have been trains, there have been train songs: some are joyful celebrations, others, mournful laments. A train whistle can mark a long-awaited arrival or a much-dreaded departure, the start of a new adventure or the end of the good old days. It’s hard to know where to begin when it comes to putting together a playlist of railroad songs, as trains have been written about from nearly every angle in nearly every genre, but here you’ll find some of my favorites, which I hope may inspire you to hit the rails yourself. — Anthony D’Amato

The Band – “Mystery Train”

A cornerstone of American rock and roll, “Mystery Train” has been performed and recorded by just about everyone over the years, but I chose to kick things off with The Band’s version. Musicians use the term “train beat” to refer to a certain kind of basic drum pattern, but Levon goes above and beyond here. There’s a relentlessness and a momentum to his groove that genuinely evokes the feeling of wheels rolling down the track, and it’s utterly mesmerizing.

Howlin’ Wolf – “Smokestack Lightnin’”

Eerie and hypnotic, “Smokestack Lightnin’” is an all-time blues classic. Howlin’ Wolf said the title was inspired by sitting in the country at night and watching sparks fly from the smokestack of passing trains. Close your eyes while you listen and it’s easy to see the red-hot embers dancing in the empty black sky.

The Kinks – “Last of the Steam-Powered Trains”

The through line from Howlin’ Wolf to The Kinks is pretty obvious when you listen to these songs back to back.

The Staple Singers – “This Train”

There are a whole host of versions of this song to choose from, but I’ve always loved The Staple Singers’ take on it, which blurs the lines between gospel and blues. The train is a potent symbol not just in 20th century music and art and literature, but in religious expression, as well, and this is a prime example.

Bruce Springsteen – “Land of Hope and Dreams”

Springsteen references a number of train songs (including “This Train”) within “Land of Hope and Dreams,” which was a live favorite for years before he recorded it on the Wrecking Ball album. I’ve always been drawn to the imagery in this tune, as well as the intricate way in which the words all fit together like puzzle pieces without a single wasted vowel or consonant. “Big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams” is as clean a line as you could ever hope to write.

Elizabeth Cotten – “Freight Train”

Written when Cotten was still quite young, “Freight Train” is an enduring classic more than 100 years later, and her performance here is utterly timeless. Interestingly enough, the tune made its way to England in the 1950s, where it was covered by a skiffle group called The Quarrymen (which eventually evolved into The Beatles). Seems everyone cut their teeth on train songs.

Lead Belly – “Midnight Special”

The passing headlight of a train is a sign of freedom and salvation for a prisoner in this song, who lets the glow wash over him like baptismal waters in his penitentiary cell.

Ernest Stoneman – “Wreck of the Old 97”

Trainwrecks have been fertile ground for songwriters through the years, and who could blame them? Trainwrecks have it all: drama, heroism, danger, tragedy, sacrifice. If all we got out of this tune was Rhett Miller and his compatriots in the Old 97s, it’d still be worthy of inclusion here.

Woody Guthrie – “John Henry”

Railroads have produced their fair share of local and regional folk heroes over the years, but none as iconic as John Henry, who wins the battle of man versus machine but pays with his life. There’s a whole lot about capitalism and labor and race and technology all wrapped up in this song, which could be said of the railroads themselves, too.

Bob Dylan – “Slow Train”

There’s a simmering intensity to this song that stares you dead in the eye and refuses to blink. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Dylan chose a train as the central metaphor in this scathing assessment of America.

Arlo Guthrie – “The City of New Orleans”

Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans” is another well-covered train song, but as far as I’m concerned, Arlo Guthrie has the definitive version. It’s a beautiful slice of life from the perspective of a traveler looking out the window at a changing country.

Justin Townes Earle – “Workin’ for the MTA”

It’s hard to write a modern train song that doesn’t sound like Woody Guthrie cosplay, but Justin Townes Earle did a brilliant job of updating the form on this tune, which is sung from the perspective of a New York City subway worker.

Amanda Shires – “When You Need a Train It Never Comes”

This one’s about a lack of trains, but I think it still qualifies. This was the first song of Amanda’s I ever heard, and I was instantly drawn to her unique perspective on what could otherwise be well-worn territory. Like the Justin Townes Earle tune, it’s a rare contemporary take that feels genuinely original.

Brad Miller – “Reader Railroad No 1702 2-8-0”

This might be considered cheating since it’s not technically a song, but over the years there have been a number of LPs released by and for railfans that consist entirely of field recordings of trains. Many have been relegated to attics and secondhand shops, but some were digitized and made the leap to streaming. I chose this recording from a 1972 album called Steel Rails Under Thundering Skys because I think it offers a great entry point to someone asking the perfectly reasonable question, “Why the hell would I want to listen to that?” The mix of steam trains, falling rain, and rolling thunder is incredibly soothing. Put it on and watch your blood pressure drop.

Photo Credit: Vivian Wang

LISTEN: Colin Hay, “Wichita Lineman”

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Artist: Colin Hay
Hometown: Topanga Canyon, California
Song: “Wichita Lineman”
Album: I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself
Release Date: August 6, 2021
Label: Compass Records

In Their Words: “‘Wichita Lineman’ was the first song where I realized the importance of the written song, in and of itself. Before that, I had always put artists and songs together, like Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Who, The Kinks, and many others, who all primarily wrote and performed their own songs. ‘Wichita Lineman’ spoke of things I could only wonder at. The geographical vastness of the land, the hopes and dreams of the man working the line, and indeed of all people who inhabit this country. And, a love story contained within achingly beautiful music and melody. I can’t think of a better song.” — Colin Hay

Photo credit: Paul Mobley

BGS 5+5: Graham Sharp

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Artist: Graham Sharp
Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina
Latest Album: Truer Picture

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I think Steve Martin has influenced me more than any other artist. The level of attention and devotion he brings to every project (music, film, books, etc.) is inspiring. I don’t think I know any other artist quite so single-minded as Steve. When we began working together I had no expectations, but could easily picture him resting on his past success and coasting; nothing could be further from the truth. Over and over again he’s shown that to be successful you have to put in the daily work, keep pushing yourself and not be afraid to take chances.

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

I try to keep a few approaches in my toolkit, so if A isn’t happening one day maybe B, C, or D will. Sometimes I’ll try to remove myself completely from a song and let the story unfold. More often I can’t quite get away from myself and a lyric is my way of processing a situation. Likewise, I like to place myself in a more unfamiliar setting and try on a different voice or perspective. I think my songs, in general, have become more personal over the years and they’ve helped me be more empathetic. Often a song can encourage me to say what is otherwise scary or difficult to express.

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

The toughest time I had writing a song was probably “Honey on My Tongue” from the newest Steep Canyon Rangers album. We were holed up in a hotel in Vancouver for several days with no shows. I wanted to use the time to write a song for my daughter but sat there with paper and pen for hours on end with little or nothing to show for it. At some point I bought a ticket and visited a little Japanese garden nearby. But when we left town I still had nothing to show for it. It was familiar frustration of having something in sight but just out of reach. I try not to let that bother me too much, but it’s often in the background. When we got to the next tour stop, maybe Calgary, I got out my guitar backstage and the first thing that I played was a little melody. After that the whole tune just fell into place. Those are good moments.

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

I write directly about nature a lot. The song “Deeper Family” is a good example. I was spending time in the woods hiking and had just read The Overstory by Richard Powers. The book talks about the interconnectedness of the forest and a vast life taking place underground. Other times, the woods is simply a great place to let the mind wander and find itself. The forests feel have the great effect of calming the brain while firing up the senses. After a bike ride I can usually count on a new line or perspective or melody.

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

I tend to write best and most when I’m reading books, stories, or poems that I love. Short stories especially mirror what a song sets out to do. The scene is set and characters come to life so completely and economically. I think the same about the best songs, where no word is wasted and every line has a purpose.

Terry Allen – “The Beautiful Waitress”

The way he paints a scene, you find yourself sitting there in the booth with your bowl of chili and you can’t help but fall in love with the beautiful waitress. I admire writers who can set you down in a world so completely that you start filling in all the gaps from your own imagination. And the spoken word outro is the maybe the best ever.

Don Williams – “Some Broken Hearts Never Mend”

A perfect country song, outlaw with a soft touch. If I could trade my voice for anyone’s it would be Don Williams.

Nina Simone – “The Assignment Sequence”

The way this song starts in easy and builds to a monumentally intense groove never fails to get my heart pounding. Nina Simone is one of the absolute giants of American music, and she has long held my fascination and admiration.

Steep Canyon Rangers – “Honey on My Tongue”

A little song I wrote for my daughter. It’s hard to encapsulate everything that is the love of a parent but I’m proud of how this one turned out. I love the band’s take on it, from Barrett’s Astral Weeks-style bass to Ashworth (normally our drummer) playing a fantastical bubbly banjo line.

Graham Sharp – “Generation Blues”

When chaos seemed like it would swallow the world back last year, I wrote this while thinking about what we’ve inherited and what we can choose to bring with us or leave behind. Seth Kauffman, who produced the record, must have intuited how much I like The Kinks because the feel on this landed just where I didn’t know I wanted it; it seemed like he did that for every track on the record!

Photo credit: Sandlin Gaither

LISTEN: The Rails, “Something Is Slipping My Mind”

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Artist: The Rails
Hometown: London, U.K.
Song: “Something Is Slipping My Mind”
Album: Cancel the Sun
Release Date: August 16, 2019
Label: Thirty Tigers/Psychonaut Sounds

In Their Words: “I think the reason we’ve cited the Kinks as such an important influence on this album is that they were so influenced by rock ‘n’ roll, but they distilled it in a very English way. That’s where that distillation image helps. Like something in a still. It’s a process. They were so confident about their Britishness and whatever they wanted to say even if it was off the wall. But it just made them so distinctively themselves.

“For Cancel the Sun we really wanted to stay home and work on our own schedule. We were quite involved in the last two records, and so for this one we really wanted to be produced so we could just play the music, so it was wonderful to get to work with Stephen [Street as producer] this time around. We tried not to listen to so much music while we were writing, to sort of shut down and not to be quite as as influenced by other sounds ourselves. Thus I think we sound more like ourselves than ever before. Like, ‘Close your ears and just do you.'” — Kami Thompson

Photo credit: Jill Furmanovsky

MIXTAPE: The Rails’ Take on UK Roots

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Agreeing on music is difficult in any household. Kami and I get along musically when we’re holding instruments, but our tastes diverge when it comes to what we listen to in our downtime. Elvis vs PJ Harvey, jazz vs metal, my extensive vinyl collection vs Kami’s beaten-up CDs from the 90s etc. But we agree on a few things, and the artists we’ve chosen for this list represent our sliver of common ground.” — The Rails (James Walbourne and Kami Thompson)

FROM JAMES WALBOURNE:

The Pogues – “The Old Main Drag”

Where does one start with The Pogues? They are a band that has influenced me so much over the years it’s hard to know where to begin. Their blend of trad, rock, punk, country and balladry mixed with the singing and lyrics of Shane MacGowan is a force to behold. Sticking two fingers up at the trad/folk establishment (Ewan MacColl was none too impressed with their version of “Dirty Old Town’”) their music spoke to me. I think this song is perfect, hard-hitting and still relevant. I spent some time playing guitar in The Pogues and I feel blessed to have done so.

Tim O’Brien with Paul Brady – “Mick Ryan’s Lament”

I used to go and watch Tim O’Brien play at The Weavers Arms in London and have always loved the way he would mix Irish and bluegrass music. His singing with Paul Brady on this track is stunning.

The Kinks – “Village Green”

Maybe not the most obvious choice for a roots music playlist but I think it valid. I come from a place called Muswell Hill in North London and it just so happens The Kinks come from there too. On the same road the Davies brothers grew up on, a few doors down, is a house called ‘Fairport’ where Fairport Convention started. It was also an old doctor’s surgery where I used to go as a kid. Just behind that is my old school. I like to think there might be something in the water up there. This song is from the classic Kinks record The Village Green Preservation Society and tells of someone longing for the little country village they came from. An English folk song if ever I heard one.

Derek Bell – “Carolan’s Farewell to Music”

Traditional music played on the harp by Derek Bell of The Chieftans. It’s beautiful.

Nic Jones – “The Humpback Whale”

This record blew my mind when I first heard it on the radio a number of years ago. Just when you thought you’d heard your last great guitar player something like this comes along. Every guitar player should hear it. Tragically, Nic was involved in an automobile accident some years ago which left him unable to play anymore.

The Everly Brothers – “Cathy’s Clown”

We’re both huge fans of harmony singing in general (all the bluegrass brothers, Stanley, Louvin, Delmore, etc) but perhaps our favourites will always be The Everlys. Perfect mix of pop and country.

Son Volt – “Tear Stained Eye”

One of my favourite songs from the Jay Farrar canon. Another musician who can blend folk, rock, country and blues into something unique. This particular track is classic country-sounding but there is something other worldly about it that makes it timeless and haunting. This lineup of the band was a huge influence on me and we even had the great Jim Boquist playing bass on our most recent record, Other People.

Nick Drake – “Time Has Told Me”

I think we both had a go at playing Nick Drake songs long before we met. I for one could never work out the tunings but Kami had them all figured out, which left me begrudgingly impressed. This track is the opening song from Five Leaves Left. It’s a great antidote for homesickness as I find you’re immediately transported back to an English garden the moment you put it on.

FROM KAMI THOMPSON:

Lal and Mike Waterson – “The Scarecrow”

This album is a masterpiece of oddball Britishness. The songs are exceptional and the singing is sublime – Mike is one of my Favourite Ever Singers. I’m lucky enough to know and sometimes sing a tune with Lal’s daughter, Marry, who is also a gifted songwriter.

Martin Carthy – “The Trees They Do Grow High”

Martin and my mum, Linda, used to share a flat off the Archway Road in the ‘60s or ‘70s. So Mum says, anyway. The Waterson/Carthys are the undisputed First Family of Folk. James picked up an old Martin Carthy vinyl at a record store near our old flat, a short walk from the Archway Road, and this song was on it. It’s mesmerising. We learnt it from Martin’s album and put our version on the Australia EP we put out a couple of years back.

Richard and Linda Thompson – “Did She Jump or Was She Pushed”

My mum and dad. I love mum’s vocal on this and it’s one of Richard’s poppiest, ear-worm choruses. Love it. Maybe they’ll put it all behind them and get back together!

Alasdair Roberts – “The Cruel Mother”

Alasdair is a Scottish folk musician of enormous critical acclaim who, he probably won’t mind me saying, hasn’t exactly bothered the charts. He’s far too clever to be popular. His songs are intricate, academic, beautiful. I often make notes at his shows – reminders to self, scratched on bar mats, to read more books.

Max Jury – “Christian Eyes”

I don’t know anything about him, and haven’t heard of any releases since this came out, but this song is pretty much perfect. Whenever it pops up on shuffle I listen to it two or three times.

Kate & Anna McGarrigle – “Tell My Sister”

Kate and Anna were always on the stereo when I was a kid, both of my parents would play their records. Maybe the records they both played was one of the few strands of continuity I felt moving between their respective homes as a child. I love the McGarrigles’ music still and now I get to listen to (and love) Rufus and Martha’s music through a prism of assumed familiarity.

Cathal McConnel – “Scotland-Ireland / The Hangover / Fermanagh Curves”

This song is so evocative, it hurts. I feel the Celtic blood surge in my veins as the tune soars and soothes. It brings my heart almost to bursting every time I hear it. Also, Cathal seems to almost never stop for breath, which is a marvel in itself.

Photo credit: Jill Furmanovsky