Tag: The Stray Birds

Basic Folk – Maya De Vitry

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

Maya De Vitry released her third solo record, Violet Light, earlier this year and I, for one, am happy that my fiancée has a new Maya record to play endlessly in our house. Lol jk. I love Maya and this album is perfect. Maya’s originally from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where she lived and met the members of her old band The Stray Birds. Since the dissolution of the Birds, she’s been incredibly prolific with all these solo albums, co-writes and the like. If you’re not familiar, this record is a great intro to the genius of one of the greatest musicians on the scene today. The vibes I’m getting on this record are John Prine, Patty Griffin and, of course, Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings. We. Are. Digging. IN!

 

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • STITCHER • AMAZON • MP3
 

I’m so happy Maya was up for going through this beauty of a record track by track! It’s a brilliant collection that subtly knocks you to the ground over the course of its eleven songs. Produced at home with her partner, the much in-demand bassist and producer Ethan Jodziewicz (The Milk Carton Kids, Sierra Hull, Aoife O’Donovan, Darol Anger, Tony Trischka), Violet Light actually contains a ton of collaborations from Maya’s extensive musical community. This includes her own family; her siblings all collaborated for the very first time on tape for the song “Real Time, Real Tears,” about losing a favorite uncle. Yeah, you try not to cry during that one. Anyhoo. It feels like a gift to be able to turn these songs over and over, contemplate their meaning, their creation and then be able to talk directly to the brains behind it all. I implore you to check out this whole episode and then go buy Maya’s new album, preferably on Bandcamp. Support an independent artist whose music is meaningful and worth getting paid for. She’s a once in a lifetime artist.

Photo Credit: Laura Partain

LISTEN: Mark Erelli, “Handmade” (Feat. Maya de Vitry)

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Mark Erelli
Hometown: Melrose, Massachusetts
Song: “Handmade” (featuring Maya de Vitry)
Album: Jackpot EP
Release Date: February 12, 2021
Label: Soundly Music

In Their Words: “Sometimes I’ll write a song that just truly comes alive when turned into a duet. I didn’t write ‘Handmade’ for two people to sing, but it didn’t take much to retrofit it to include another voice. The question of who that voice should be was a harder decision, made difficult by the shear number of amazing singers in Nashville where we recorded the song. I was a big fan of The Stray Birds, and when Maya de Vitry went out on her own for her 2019 solo album Adaptations, I was truly blown away. I love listening to all types of voices, but I really love singing with someone who can dig in and match my dynamics, which inspires me to dig deeper. Singing with Maya, I didn’t have to hold anything back, and I think the strength our vocals project reinforces the song’s message that sometimes you have to dig in, roll up your sleeves, and really work to make love happen.” — Mark Erelli

“It was an absolute joy to sing ‘Handmade’ with Mark. As a guest in Mark’s recording process, I was stepping into whatever culture and atmosphere that they (Mark, his band, producer Zack, engineer Dan) already had going in the studio — and I remember stepping into that room and finding a place of pure warmth and enthusiasm. Harmony singing is one of my favorite things in the world — I get to feel the emotional intensity and energy and character of a song, and then actually climb into it and do my best to help convey the story. I think Mark’s lyrics here are especially resonant in this moment, because a lot of us are taking a more ‘handmade’ approach to everything these days. And that line ‘I can’t wait to see what we’re gonna make’ really hits me now too — in dreaming about our future beyond the pandemic, and how we won’t just be returning to something in the past… we all have an opportunity to make something new.” — Maya de Vitry

Photo of Mark Erelli: Joe Navas; Photo of Maya de Vitry: Kaitlyn Raitz

Forgiving Herself, Maya de Vitry Feels Better and Better on New Solo Album

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

When Maya de Vitry quit her most recent full-time touring gig, she did it for self-preservation. Before her solo debut Adaptations was released in 2019, the multi-instrumentalist and singer/songwriter prioritized her life by centering community, home, and a sense of place in what had often been a frantic, taxing, and nomadic daily life.

Her second, just-released album, How to Break a Fall, was tracked almost immediately after Adaptations hit shelves, and with a harder, more grizzled, rockier aesthetic it demonstrated the growth and transformation that had occurred in the meantime. A sense of movement, of excited, unapologetic momentum permeates the Dan Knobler-produced project. Where Adaptations had seen de Vitry through a transition to stillness, How to Break a Fall was poised to carry her into still another new period for the budding solo artist. 

Enter a global pandemic. With nearly all of that momentum and her entire release cycle squandered on a music industry that had to shutter itself in the face of COVID-19, de Vitry found herself once again prioritizing, enjoying each individual moment at home, focusing on community in whatever shape it can take at this point, and baking banana bread, too. It turns out practice does make perfect. 

BGS spoke to de Vitry over the phone, immediately diving into how serendipitous this collection of songs is for a moment of global pausing.

BGS: The last record, Adaptations, was written in isolation and now you’ve landed with this new record, How to Break a Fall, and on the back end of it you’ve ended up in isolation again. I wondered if you’ve thought about that? Or considered the strange symmetry, the way that these records are bookended by the idea of intentional solitude?

de Vitry: [Laughs] Wow, I absolutely did not connect those dots and that is so wild. It’s so ironic, because I was feeling very frustrated and angry about losing all of these shows this spring and I was finally feeling like [I was ready to get on the road] — because with Adaptations I didn’t tour really at all. I wasn’t emotionally or mentally healthy enough to be touring my music, I wasn’t ready to be on stage. Then this time, I felt emotionally healthy to go out there and play shows and it was like, “Oh, but the world has another health situation going on.” 

In some ways, How to Break a Fall was also written in isolation. I had kind of cut myself off a bit from the East Nashville scene, because I needed some space from the patterns and circles of people. I needed space from touring and leaving [the Stray Birds]. I was working at Starbucks while I was writing the album and I was essentially in isolation. You go to work for eight hours, come home, and you’re just in your house again. It was still voluntary, and I definitely still had some community. I could still pop out and play a show. 

I’m kind of an introverted person, so I’m always in isolation when I’m writing — in some way. I’ve been writing so much in the last couple of weeks. I was ready to kind of emerge, I was ready to go and be out there, and in interaction, instead of isolation. Now it’s like mandatory isolation and I’m going to write.

What does that feel like to you? Does it feel like a grinding of the gears? Like, “Oh, hold on, we’ve gotta turn this ship around and it’s going to take some effort and energy for me to go back into the writing frame of mind when I was ready to be in the outward-facing, extroverted frame of mind.”

It feels like muscle memory. It’s like a pivot. That part of it has not been difficult. I think accessing the writing part, the inward part of being an artist, is [always] within reach. I get as much satisfaction from creating the stuff as I do performing the stuff, if not more. I would say the process of writing an album, recording an album, and being in the studio with people is so fulfilling to me. Just creating it. There’s almost a grieving process when that’s over. Then there’s the next thing, when the songs come alive… I was looking forward to that, seeing how the songs would live and evolve and change. How they would land, out there in the world in real time with people. What other choice do I have? Let’s just pivot. Let’s write another record. [Laughs]

“Better and Better” is about the idea of building something and the song feels pertinent in this moment of… pausing, let’s say, because I think we could all eventually agree that life isn’t about being the best, it’s about being better. It’s about being better than the moment before, the day before, the year before. How do you see that song’s potential for connecting with listeners right now?

That song was like the doorway for writing the rest of that album and it was the doorway because, through writing it, I was realizing that I was actually unwell. Some of the things I was singing about, those lyrics were all things that I wanted to believe, and I realized that I had to make changes. I had to stop doing something that felt normal. I had to leave the band that I was in, I had to stop touring for a while, and yeah, that in some ways does remind me of this moment, too. The only thing we really can control right now is how we take care of ourselves — and that’s also sort of the only thing we ever can control. But it’s easier to feel that when it feels like other things are so outside of our control. 

I felt myself stop, stock still in the moment that I heard the line, “Forgiving myself is the most I can do” go by, because I don’t think a lot of people realize that’s what we’re doing every day right now, to get through. Letting ourselves just be enough. Where does that line come from for you?

That line is specifically about staying. About staying in the situation I was in. Before I was in [the Stray Birds], I was a musician. I was playing fiddle tunes, I was really into old-time music, I was writing songs, and I started to draft up what would be a solo record — in like 2009 and 2010. Then the band became like an invisible fence. There was no room for anyone to be doing anything outside of the band. There was no physical room, for all of the time we were on the road, and there was no emotional room with the interpersonal dynamic of the band. It was not possible to continue to be myself, to nurture my own voice as a writer and musician and also be a member of that band, because of the environment of the band. 

Forgiving myself, in that line, is about forgiving my nineteen-year-old self for not knowing any better at the time. And forgiving myself for my fears, because it was easier [to avoid them instead]. It’s vulnerable to sing your lyrics at all, ever, and I’m forgiving myself for those fears I had. Instead of standing up with my name and my lyrics, it was easier to climb inside the identity of a band and feel protected and more secure.


Which is quite the contrast from How to Break a Fall, because, to me, this record feels like a statement, a declaration for women to be allowed to take up space. And to be allowed to access and enjoy as much of the oxygen in those spaces as they like. Songs like “Something In the Way She Moves,” “Gray,” definitely “Open the Door” all speak to this. And the rock ‘n’ roll aesthetic often feels angry and impassioned, but the music doesn’t feel hostile in the way that it channels those energies.

That’s one hundred percent right. That comes from that process of forgiveness. It comes from walking through that doorway, the doorway being “Better and Better,” and walking into this landscape of songs and being receptive to writing that story. I think the record doesn’t sound hostile because it’s not. These are the songs, these are the sounds that I felt like making, this is a story. These things are true for me. 

There’s this video of Sister Rosetta Tharpe playing incredible guitar, walking up and down this train platform, it’s an iconic taking-up-of-space. An iconic expression of joy. That kind of spirit is what’s behind this music and this record. For as much as I can control what people can get from it, I would hope that some of what it unlocks or awakens is, “Huh… there are a lot of female characters on this record taking up space and doing what they want.”

It’s not hostile because it’s taking the responsibility of going inward by going to my own interior and inviting listeners to go into their interiors and see what’s going on in there. In the song “Revolution” it’s like, What are these walls? What’s inside of me? If this is the way that my eyes have been trained to see, what new world am I going to see? If I can’t shift the lens or something on the inside, how am I going to see a world that’s [different?] It’s happened so many times in history, whether it’s women’s rights or gay rights or the civil rights movement. We have to practice imagining the impossible. That’s connected to why it’s not hostile. 

When that’s the reason behind the music and the intent behind the record, the volume of it or whether it’s an electric or an acoustic guitar or if it’s rock or folk — none of that matters to me. [Laughs] This is the story I’m telling! 

All photos: Laura Partain

STREAM: Maya de Vitry, ‘Adaptations’

Posted on by Editor

Beginning in 2016, The Stray Birds’ fiddler and vocalist Maya de Vitry found herself writing songs that didn’t fit with the band’s aesthetic. At the time, the prospect felt confusing, even a touch frightening. “It was really scary because I didn’t know what that meant,” she says over the phone from Pennsylvania. “The band was all consuming.” De Vitry had been performing with the The Stray Birds for nearly a decade, releasing — at the time — four albums and an EP. What were these songs, if not for them?

As it turns out, her solo debut Adaptations moves away from the sound — and structures — that defined her folk and traditional inclinations with The Stray Birds. Producer Dan Knobler and a backing rock band layer each song with flourishes of electric guitar phrasing and soft brushes on the drum, all of which open the door for de Vitry’s strikingly deep and at times stately voice to infiltrate new spaces. (Stream Adaptations at the end of this story.)

Writing for herself rather than a group, de Vitry’s lyrics lean towards inclusivity, humanity, and other unitive concepts. There are also themes of love, but not exactly the romantic kind. On “The Key” de Vitry writes about the necessity of friendship at a time when romance felt burdensome (she and The Stray Birds’ Oliver Craven had broken up following the release of the band’s 2016 album Magic Fire). Whatever misgivings de Vitry had about walking her own path, Adaptations showcases a remarkable voice set to scale new heights. As she sings on “Wilderness”: “It’s time to leave the trail behind.”

BGS: You’ve said that these songs emerged from a period of self-exile. Can you tell me a bit about that time?

de Vitry: When I first started songwriting when I was younger, it felt extremely vulnerable and scary to me. Around 2010, when I started playing with Oliver and Charlie and we made The Stray Birds, that was a really natural place for me to put my energy at the time.

You had the protection of the group.

Yeah, and I had the camaraderie of the group. I’m trying to figure out how I want to navigate telling the story because it’s hard. The group broke up, and I’m still processing how much I want to share.

So what was it like to write outside the bounds of the group?

In a way, making this record was revelatory to me. Writing these songs, being alone, insisting on space, and insisting on stopping the motion and commotion of being on the road with that band, that’s what I was craving. If you just keep moving, you think that’s the way you’re going to survive, that maybe things will change and you’ll find yourself in the right place. But writing the record and that self-exile took realizing that you can’t just keep moving. Sometimes you have to stop and look inward.

The exile was… I felt like I was doing something wrong by stepping away and doing something creative outside the band. Ultimately, it was a cocoon that needed to be exited. Now I feel really bright and strong — about the record and the place that I’ve come to. At the time, I felt I needed to escape. I was going to a land that was really unknown, which was myself.

There’s a sense of serendipity surrounding this project: You were supposed to go to Nashville and instead retreated to your grandparents’ cabin; then you were supposed to make a demo and instead recorded half of the album. What’s the most important takeaway you’ve learned as a result?

What I’m continuing to learn is that our bodies are at least a few steps ahead of where our brains are. Our instincts and our gut feelings — the way that we’re sometimes physically pulled towards things — you can’t explain it. It sounds kind of out there, but I think I’ve learned to trust intuition a little more. That’s important to me in thinking about being. Paying attention to that.

It gets distilled into that opening line on “Wilderness”: “It’s time to leave the trail behind.”

As much as society or careers or trajectories—the dreams that we have for achievement—might be linear, I don’t think we can get away from the fact that we are actually a part of nature, so therefore we are sort of beholden to cycles, and we might have cycles of rest.

 

You share beautiful and necessary messages on “Anybody’s Friend,” “Slow Down,” “The Key,” etc. Why did these in particular register for you?  

“The Key” I wrote while I was up at the cabin, for that first writing retreat session, and that one was really personal. It was a love song to a few friends of mine. I was feeling really thankful for friendship. It’s a heralded kind of love, but I was forgetting how important it had been to me. With friends you can grow apart and grow together. There’s a lot more gray areas that are accepted in friendship. At the time, I was really disenchanted with any kind of romantic relationship.

I went to Cuba in January of 2017. It was around the time of the inauguration in the U.S. and I was seeing this divisive language and leadership, and power over people. One of my friends [in Cuba] was so patient with my Spanish. I asked him why, and he was like, “I want to know you.” I think the temporariness of that, and “Take a deep breath and try to tell me what you’re trying to say in this language,” was such permission. I felt like I was experiencing the power of listening and the power of vulnerability. I was like, “That divisive power has nothing on this.” I think that’s how I was interpreting the world, in a hopeful way.

That makes sense. Even on “Go Tell a Bird,” it seems like the current political climate influenced those lyrics.

Yeah, and it’s not like I’m a perfect person. I guess I just wanted to challenge the language, and challenge the boxes, and challenge the idea of freedom.

Every song has such a different kind of soundscape compared to what we’ve heard from you before with The Stray Birds. When you got into the studio with your producer Dan Knobler, what was it like building each one?

Working with Dan was probably an interesting choice on my behalf. It wasn’t like I was really attached to some catalog of work that he’s done, though he’s got a great catalog of work as a producer and engineer. I was really just operating on this feeling I’d had. Before I’d asked him to produce, I was doing a compilation CD and The Stray Birds were a part of it. I was singing and the way he spoke to me about my voice and my phrasing, and the way we interacted while I was singing, I felt really heard in a new way. I never forgot that feeling.

How did he push your voice on this album?

I felt freer. The Stray Birds, as much as they weren’t strictly tied to a genre like folk or bluegrass, I think there was a certain dialect of singing that we did. Especially with harmony singing, the blend is dependent on how everyone is singing. With this, I felt the more I stepped into feeling free, the more Dan would be there to encourage that.

Also, with the sonic palette — the fullness that’s around it — that’s not an idea I had going into this. That is something I would really thank Dan for hearing. I was surprised when he said, “I think we should get some strings, and see what Russell Durham has to bring to these songs.” The band that we tracked it live with was pretty much just a rock band—upright bass, drums, and two guitars. Anthony da Costa has really tasteful electric guitar playing.

But there was no genre. There was nothing I was trying to prove. I wasn’t even really trying to make a record — it was supposed to be a demo. So it was very playful. Dan and I are really particular about songs, and I feel more and more if I can trust the song 100 percent and if the song feels indestructible to me and also very flexible then we can go play with it and it’s going to be fun. The studio was such a joyful time.

With The Stray Birds, endings themselves are naturally fraught, and obviously you’re still parsing through a lot of what took place there, but what are you proud of as you begin a new phase of your career?

I’m really proud of what we learned together, and our willingness to take risks together, and our willingness to just show up. Sometimes there was less reflection in what we were doing — there was more action. I’m really most proud of the last record that we made together.

It sounds like it was immensely collaborative.

Yes, that’s what I’m most proud of in that band. It’s a beautiful record. It was so difficult to write it, but it was so fulfilling to write it. Everyone’s voice is present in all the songs, melodically and lyrically. I think that record was the most empowering experience for everyone in the band.

Photo credit: Laura Partain

Win Tickets to MerleFest from Yep Roc Records (+ Mandolin Orange Video Premiere!)

Posted on by Editor

It’s that time of year again … MerleFest is nigh!

This year, four Yep Roc-ers are headed to Wilkesboro, North Carolina, from April 27-30. Tift Merritt, Mandolin Orange, the Stray Birds, and Chatham County Line will all be at MerleFest 2017, and Yep Roc wants you to be there, too.

One lucky winner will get two VIP passes to the fest, as well as hotel accommodations plus a meet and greet with the Yep Roc artists. It’s an $800 value, so get to it.

Enter to win right here. 

Then enjoy this Mandolin Orange video while you cross your fingers and knock on wood.

Painting Sounds, Building Bridges, Eating Nachos: A Conversation with the Stray Birds

Posted on by Editor

The Stray Birds could have kept everything the same about their sound and their process and still have made an incredible record. The band — which revolves around members Maya de Vitry, Oliver Craven, and Charles Muench — had already hit number two on the Billboard bluegrass charts with their YepRoc debut, Best Medicine, in 2014, garnering praise for their rich harmonies and swift picking while building a name as songwriters, too.

But for the forthcoming Magic Fire, the Pennsylvania-based group willfully took steps in a different direction — not toward a different sound, but rather a growth from the straight-up string band they started with. Dabbling with a new percussionist and collaborating on songwriting in a new way, the band brought in Larry Campbell, the genre-jumping instrumentalist whose work specifically with Levon Helm and Bob Dylan made him the Stray Birds’ top choice for their first record with an outside producer. What resulted was a 12-song collection of commanding vocals led forward by a deftness on the strings that can only come from a tight-knit group that loves to play together. 

This album was a new experience for you guys in terms of the way it was recorded. Tell me about the decision-making when you were gearing up for this album. Did you have any specific goals in mind?

Maya de Vitry: We have always been a trio, a string band, trying to explore playing songs with string instruments. That’s the texture that we started out with — it’s what we were comfortable with, it’s what we knew. But it’s not the only sound that we love, and it’s not the only music we listen to; that has certainly never been limited to string bands, and certainly never been limited to those textures. When we started to get the songs together for this new record, it overlapped with us finding a percussionist who we were interested in recording with for the first time. We were never sure what instrument it would be that would pull us in the next direction, or who that person might be, or what the sound would be. But we met Shane [Leonard] and, as we were putting this new record together, we started to think about having drums on it — a more electric sound.

So we started putting those songs together and thinking about the person who might help us build that bridge. We thought that it would be somebody like Larry Campbell. I’d seen him perform a few times with Levon Helm’s band — he was the musical director for that — and I was familiar with some of [Campbell’s] work with [Bob] Dylan. Always it seemed like he was arranging music to really fit the song and to really communicate. Larry could live in all kinds of musical worlds, and we were excited to see what he thought. There were no limitations with what kinds of sounds we could paint with these songs.

Is there anything in particular that you’re most proud of now that you've tried something new?

I think this was our best singing on an album. I think we were relaxed, and we were inspired by Larry’s presence. We felt comfortable with him, and our singing, in particular — some of the phrasing, the tone, and the inflection that we have — I’m really proud of. It’s more free than it’s been in the past, and I’m really excited about that.

I’m really proud of the song “Mississippi Pearl.” It’s kind of tucked into the back of the record, and it’s the only waltz. But it didn’t start out as a waltz. It was in 4/4 time, and a totally different feel as a song. I was never totally in love with it, but I had the words and I had the melody and the chorus, so I had it on the table as a song that was possible to record. I wanted a waltz on the record and we didn’t have any, so Oliver suggested we turn that one into a waltz. Larry heard something in the melody of the song, the way that it opened up. It became much more spacious as a waltz. The story of the song fit better in that new feel. Larry heard something in the melody and wrote this whole melodic hook, this instrumental thing, and he just wrote this whole new part of the song, an instrumental bridge, right there in the studio in front of me. It was a new experience for me, to be open: to have this thing, and I don’t love it — yet — and for him to hear it and be like, "This thing that you don’t love yet? Listen to this idea." So Larry was my co-writer on that song and, in that moment, it was so inspiring. It’s like something cracked open — all of the ideas were available. The song lives as a waltz, and that’s the way it was meant to be. I couldn’t find that on my own.

You said something earlier about painting sounds, which brings me to another question I had about the album art. What inspired you to create that yourself?

I had no plan to do the artwork up until we got into the studio and we got inside of these songs. We naturally started talking about what we could possibly call the record. We wanted to find some words that captured the spirit of it without lifting them specifically from a single song. We didn’t want to have a title track; we just wanted to have a concept of a title. I sort of started dropping the idea to people that I might want to do a painting or some kind of cover art, but I really didn’t know how far into it I wanted to get, at that point. We were basically trying to find something to represent this music other than the three people who wrote it. [Laughs]

We finally came up with the name, which really drove the art forward, when Oliver and I were hanging out with his dad back in Pennsylvania, right after we had finished recording. We were just up late making nachos one night, and he was joking about how all you need to do to make nachos is to wave the magic fire stick around. My ears had been totally open for any word that someone was saying that could possibly fit for the title of this record — I wanted it to feel like it was kind of out on a limb, like it was up to the listener to build a bridge between the songs and the title. So we put the music on right away, the super-rough mixes, and we just listened to the whole thing in the kitchen.

We started drawing our own connections from those words, “magic fire,” to each individual song: “Oh, in this song the fire is love — it’s chemistry.” “In this song, it’s literal fire.” We’d find different meanings in each song that could be connected to it. If not just fire, at least connected to something with the elements, or something very old. We liked the idea of that because this whole record is something very new for us, and it’s nice to feel that juxtaposition. For me, where I started to love music was sitting around a campfire and sharing songs with people. Today, the way that most people have their musical intake is through their phone or computer or the soundtrack in a movie or on the radio. Still, for me, the most alive that I feel is often around a campfire with people. I think it’s less and less about the audience, but about taking things away and remembering what you liked to do as a kid and remembering how fun it is to build a fire and to do new things. That’s kind of what we were doing with this record: playing with fire.

So you had all of these songs before the concept brought them together?

We had it all written and recorded. We had these mixes, and we wondered what could possibly capture them. Then, it became a question of what visual thing could represent these words. Some of them were written collaboratively, but some of them were written individually — in many different settings and times and frames of mind. It wasn’t written as a concept album, but I do think that the inevitability of change is a theme that is there. From the first track to the last track, it’s a theme on the record.

Speaking of the writing, together and separately, tell me about how all of that began.

We started playing music together in 2010. Oliver and I got started at open mics, and also we would play at the farmers' market here. We would go in, and there’s a market master who we would get permission from to play at one of the empty stands at the market. We’d just play for tips, buy a couple of Italian subs, and call it a day.

That was how I started feeling comfortable singing my own songs and coming out of that shell. I had been a fiddle player for a long time, but would not have called myself a songwriter much earlier than those moments, so that was a pretty recent thing for me. Charlie and Oliver had been playing together a little bit in a band, a bluegrass band. I would go and see those shows and see those guys play, it was like four guys playing bluegrass and some original songs of Oliver’s. When that band parted ways, we became a duo and got Charlie, who was in River Wheel also.

It started as just a collection of songs we were doing. The harmonies sounded pretty good to us, so [we thought] maybe other people should hear them. Maybe we could have a CD release show in an art gallery in our hometown. It was not a very sculpted vision.

But we played a festival. We went up to Michigan, to Bliss Fest. It was the first thing. Jim Gillespie, who runs Bliss Fest, heard our little EP of five songs that Oliver and I had made back in 2010, and he hired us to come play Bliss Fest. So we said, “Charlie, do you want to go with us?” So we tried to scrape together enough songs to have another couple sets of songs that we could play throughout the weekend. We just drove to Michigan and we got to play on all of these stages in this beautiful festival. We met so many nice people, and we started loving life and thinking, "Maybe we should be a band. We should play more festivals." I think that experience — leaving home, playing for strangers in this beautiful new setting — was intoxicating. We thought, "We could do this together." Bliss Fest was the moment.

You mentioned something that I’m always curious about: that transition from being a musician, someone who’s comfortable performing, to being comfortable with playing your own music. Was that an immediate switch for you?

I think it was just a moment. I think I was so terrified that people would ask me to explain where exactly the song came from or what I was thinking or who the song was about. Not that I was afraid to answer or didn’t want to answer — I didn’t even know if I could answer that. Songwriting, to me … I was figuring out that it was this really mysterious and really kind of unexplainable thing. It kind of felt like magic!

And I didn’t want to explain it. I just wanted the song to be there and for people to take it or leave it and just listen to it and live in it with me for a couple of minutes, and have as their own. I think that was my fear, though: that I would have to explain something that I didn’t know. When I started actually playing my songs, I realized that people didn’t necessarily ask. That wasn’t a part of the job. I was scared of something that I didn’t have to be scared of, and I could just let the song be its own thing. [I realized] that it was okay for the inspiration to be from my dreams and my experiences and multiple people. It didn’t have to all come from a traceable point, and that was the huge earth-shattering realization for me.

Get Off Your Ass: June Is Busting Out All Over

Posted on by Editor

Paul Simon // Hollywood Bowl // June 1

Junior Brown // McCabe's Guitar Shop // June 3

Elizabeth Cook // Hotel Café // June 7

The Wild Reeds // Bootleg Theatre // June 10

Robbie Fulks // The Mint // June 11

Bob Dylan & Mavis Staples // Shrine Auditorium // June 16

Sarah Jarosz // The Troubadour // June 16

Mike + Ruthy // Hotel Café // June 18

Moses Sumney // Getty Center // June 18

case/lang/veirs // Greek Theatre // June 23

The Weepies // City Winery // June 8

Brandy Clark // CMA Fest // June 10

Ray Wylie Hubbard // 3rd & Lindsley // June 10

Aubrie Sellers & Dylan LeBlanc // 3rd & Lindsley // June 12

Hurray for the Riff Raff // Centennial Park // June 18

The Cactus Blossoms // 3rd & Lindsley // June 19

Eagle Rock Gospel Singers // High Watt // June 21

Vince Gill // Ryman Auditorium // June 23

Bob Dylan & Mavis Staples // Carl Black Chevy Woods Amphitheater // June 26

Ani DiFranco // City Winery // June 29-30

Bryan Sutton Band // Rockwood Music Hall // June 1

Steep Canyon Rangers // City Winery // June 2

Gary Clark, Jr. // Randall's Island // June 5

Son Little // Bowery Ballroom // June 9

Colvin & Earle // City Winery // June 10

Billy Joe Shaver // City Winery // June 12

Eli Paperboy Reed // Union Pool // June 16

The Stray Birds // Jalopy Theatre // June 21

Robert Ellis // Bowery Ballroom // June 22

Lonely Heartstring Band // Hill Country Barbecue // June 23-24

TEN QUESTIONS FOR… The Stray Birds

Posted on by Editor

 

The Stray Birds is an acoustic trio from Lancaster, Pennsylvania with roots in bluegrass and old-time, and a strong emphasis on vocal harmony.  After releasing their first full-length album (available here) and touring extensively throughout 2012, the band has amassed some fans amongst the roots music media and wider audiences alike.  Kim Ruehl, writing for Folk Alley this July, lauded the band for allowing ‘the art of restraint… where the strings sing on their own and the songs are, as a general rule, more sparsely arranged.’

Made up of Pennsylvania natives Oliver Craven, Maya de Vitry, and Charles Muench (all of whom share and trade-off various instrument duties), two-thirds of the band sat down with The Sitch to provide a little more insight into the trio’s lives:

What are the origins of The Stray Birds?

Maya:  I was traveling a lot after high school, and I vividly remember riding in a bus in Spain and listening to Townes Van Zandt singingFor the Sake of the Song, and that was the moment I decided to come home and write songs.  When I came home a couple weeks later I met Oliver, who had been playing fiddle and writing full time, and we just started playing together.

Oliver:  Maya was doing a bit of recording in the Spring of 2010 and I was playing some odd gigs here and there, so we started busking [in Lancaster], then sharing our music, then ended up heading into the studio together, eventually bringing Charles — but we didn’t even have a name yet!  And our first EP came out at the end of 2010.  That was kind of when The Stray Birds were born.

Maya:  I think the real origin of the band comes from loving to travel, and having a job that allows for being on the road, and also loving harmonies and being able to switch between different instruments within a band.  That’s a real spirit of who we are.

What are your biggest influences?

Oliver:  Personal for me, also include Townes.  I have a lot of surprising influences actually.  People see me playing the fiddle, but yet I love Jimi Hendrix.  I was really into Old Crow Medicine Show for a while — those guys still great.  And my family — I grew up playing in a family band, and that was a huge influence in my music and my behavior.

Maya:  I grew up in a family that also played a lot of this music.  We always had a circle of friends that would sit around and play on a Friday night.  We even went to festivals all over the country.  It was all about playing music for fun — that was the main social activity.

I think that listening to Townes liberated me to write songs.  He was so honest, that he showed me how to put everything out there.   And I also grew up listening to a lot of Iris DeMint.  And Ioved Nickel Creek when I was in middle school and high school — seeing a group that was so young do such innovative amazing stuff.

How would you describe your sound?

Oliver:  Ha!  You’d think we’d be able to define this by now.  I mean it’s really roots-inspired-original-American-string-band-music.  That’s it.

Maya:  But I think we fit in a couple different places.  When we play traditional bluegrass festivals, some people are going to look the other way because I’m playing clawhammer banjo.

If you weren’t based in Central Pennsylvania, where would you be?

Maya:  [laughs] Oh, I’d probably live in the Medeterranian, maybe South of France?  Really though I’d probably stay on the east coast, just because of the proximity, and there’s still a lot of places here that are unspoiled.

Oliver:  Philadelphia is a cool place too.

Has there been a venue that was particularly special for you?

Oliver:  There have neen a few.  One was called Ripton Community Coffeehouse in Ripton, Vermont.  A lot of the places we go, we don’t have an audience.  We’re a first time band and we rely on our own publicity and the publicity of the venues that we play.  That place sounded great and responded well, and there were 150 people sitting there silent and listening to us for two hours, and they all bought CDs.  That was an awesome environment.

Do you have a favorite music store?

Maya:  Charlie just bought a banjo at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago, and that was overwhelmingly awesome.

Oliver:  I almost walked out of there with a guitar too!!

What artist or album can you not stop listening to lately?

Maya:  We’ve had John Fullbright playing a LOT.  We actually opened for him in Tulsa — which was his hometown crowd.  That was particularly awesome.

What is your favorite drink?

Maya:  Margaritas minus the sour mix.

Oliver:  Probably orange juice comes in right in front of whiskey.

If you could live in any decade, when would it be?

Oliver:  I would like to live before the internet.  A lot of what we do right now is internet based, which is great — I mean, this very interview is for the internet — but I still like that idea.  Or maybe the 1920s.  Before the crash.  Amidst the social renaissance that was happening.

Maya:  I just remember asking my grandma once, what do you think the best time was?  And she would always talk about the era between the 1920s and 1940s, when she could go out swing dancing any night of the week.  She met her husband when he drove by in a car and offered her a ride.  You would never do that now!  So maybe a time when you could just jump in people’s cars.

Finally, what’s next for The Stray Birds?

Oliver:  We’ve been on the road nonstop since the middle of July, so we’re really looking forward to some time off at the beginning of the year.  And then also, beyond that, recording again.  We have the material and the desire to make a new record, so we’re really looking forward to that.

You can learn more about The Stray Birds at their website, http://www.thestraybirds.com/

Download TWO FREE TRACKS from the band here