LISTEN: Dan Hubbard, “We Are One”

Artist: Dan Hubbard
Hometown: Bloomington, Illinois
Song: “We Are One”
Album: Attention
Release Date: April 26, 2019

In Their Words: “When I listen to Top 40 radio, seemingly every song is about having sex (not that there is anything wrong with that) but they are rarely about making love, and more about satisfying our own desires and treating one another like objects. This song is about the sacred experience of being intimate with someone in a relationship based on mutual love and respect. Musically we tried to make the verses feel easy and free, similar to Tom Petty’s ‘Wildflowers,’ with the choruses bringing in the intensity and a change of pace.” — Dan Hubbard


Photo credit: Dani Lang

Six of the Best: Songs About Gunslingers

Like movies? Like yodeling? Wow, is this a big week for you. And, as it happens, for Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, who will be mixing it with Lady Gaga and Mary Poppins on the Oscars red carpet on Monday as Best Song nominees. If you haven’t yet seen The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the Coen Brothers’ latest movie, then believe us that it’s worth the Netflix subscription, if only for the sight of Tim Blake Nelson singing “yippie-kay-yey” while floating through the sky with a celestial harp. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been bingeing on the Sergio Leone/Clint Eastwood Man with No Name trilogy this week (God bless you, Ennio Morricone), but it’s about time for a list of great songs about gunslingers. (Please note: we don’t think that shooting people is cool, or a viable alternative to an impartial judiciary.)

“Big Iron” – Marty Robbins

Robbins’s iconic 1959 album, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs, is packed with sharpshooters and outlaws – from Billy the Kid, to Utah Carol, to the nameless man about to be hanged for killing Flo and her beau. Sure, it’s most famous for Robbins’s biggest hit (and Grammy winner) “El Paso.” But if you’re looking for the classic quick-draw at high-noon (or in this case, twenty past eleven), you won’t find better than the opening track, “Big Iron.” Written by Robbins himself, it’s a classic tale of good vs evil as a handsome stranger (and Arizona ranger) rides into town to bring down murderous outlaw Texas Red. If those backing harmonies – especially the incredible bass drop – don’t give you goosebumps, check your pulse. You may be technically dead.

“Gunslinger’s Glory” – The Dead South

If there’s one thing Canada’s premier punkgrassers love to write, it’s songs about Westerns. Maybe it’s because lead singer Nate Hilts’s uncle, back home in Saskatchewan, was (as he puts it) “a big ol’ cowboy”. Either way, their albums are littered with shootouts and bodies, and their high-energy, high-drama approach to performance lends itself well to the subject. This is one of their best, tackling the age-old problem of being a famed gunfighter: that everyone else wants to bring you down. Tell us about it, punks.

“The Last Gunfighter Ballad” – Guy Clark

Johnny Cash’s version – the titular track from his 1977 album – is better known than Guy Clark’s original, recorded a year earlier. But Cash’s spoken-word rendition, given with his trademark rhythmic trot, isn’t perhaps as melodious, or as affecting, as Clark’s. A simple guitar line underlies the story of an old man drinking at a bar, recalling his former life of shoot-outs in dusty streets and “the smell of the black powder smoke”, and the twist in the final chorus is a reminder that modern living isn’t without its own dangers. That’s Waylon Jennings on the harmonies in the chorus, by the way.

“When A Cowboy Trades His Spurs For Wings” – Gillian Welch and David Rawlings

Probably the best thing about the Coen Brothers’ portmanteau of short stories from the Wild West is its opening, with Tim Blake Nelson clip clopping into frame on his white horse, strumming a black guitar and singing Marty Robbins’s “Cool Water.” The second best comes seven minutes later, when Willie Watson shows up as his nemesis. The duet that Welch and Rawlings penned for the pair may be a parody of a cowboy song, but the music’s so en pointe and beautifully sung that the humour takes second place to the artistry. Also, Welch and Rawlings invented a new word – “bindling” – for the song, which has got to be worth the Oscar nom.

“Gunslinging Rambler” – Gangstagrass

There’s a fair amount of reference to guns and violence in the songs of the world’s first (and only) hip-hop bluegrass fusion band. Despite the title, and the assertion of the protagonist that “you gonna wind up another notch on my gun belt”, you realise as the lyrics progress that this one’s not actually about a gunfight, but its modern-day equivalent, the rap battle. R-SON recorded this track for their 2012 album, Rappalachia, and it contains arguably the most devastating lines on the album. “I’m not killing these guys, please let me explain/But when I’m done, there’ll be very little left of their brains.”

“Two Gunslingers” – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

What’s the best kind of story about gun violence? One where everyone agrees to give it up. Released in 1991 on Into The Great Wide Open, it’s a glorious moment of self-revelation that subverts both the genre and our expectations. As one of the gunslingers so eloquently puts it: what are we fighting for?


Photo courtesy of Netflix

BGS 5+5: Stephen Kellogg

Artist: Stephen Kellogg
Hometown: Formerly of Northampton, Massachusetts – now in Connecticut
Latest album: Objects in the Mirror
Personal nickname: Skunk

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

I love books. Dickens writes with his heart–very inspiring. Also movies. I like those art forms because my brain never tries to deconstruct what I’m experiencing in quite the same way as it does when I hear a good song. So it can be the emotion without the intellect jumping in there. For years it would bother me because certain music that was widely accepted as great would mean nothing to me, and other stuff I loved would fall under the ‘cheesy’ moniker. Then one day I realized that it was all about the lyrics for me. If the worldview was something that resonated authentically I didn’t care about the production. The same was true in reverse, cool production isn’t really enough for me to dig something. Once I learned that about myself, I was able to apply it to the other art forms. If I feel what’s being said or commented on with piece of art, there’s a good chance I can get inspired by it.

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

I once heard a quote from Tom Petty that was something to the effect of “When the muse comes to visit, if you don’t write it down that’s just ruuuude.” I think of that every time I get an idea in the middle of the night and have to wake up to jot it down in my journal. Lots of ideas come at really inconvenient times when you aren’t looking for them. When my mother-in-law passed away, her song came to me. The problem was, that I was just so sad I didn’t want to deal with it even though I knew I very much had to get it written down. I knew the moment the first line came to me that I would be singing it at her funeral a few days later, but even trying to write the song would bring me to tears. So I’d say “Ingrid’s Song” was the toughest because even though the words and chords came with some fluidity, it was a rough time to pull it out and do what needed doing. I’m glad I did though. She deserved that tribute.

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

I like this question a lot. It strikes me as very important to understand one’s purpose in all this. It can really sustain you when there are bumps in the road. For me, I don’t play music because I love playing guitar or singing. I play because I love the human connection. In recent years I’ve been doing more speaking and writing of other kinds. I have my first full length book out in March 2019 and I feel a similar rush from those experiences too. My mantra that I keep around some of my social media outlets says ‘using words and intention in the hopes of a positive legacy for my family.’ I’d say that’s the mission.

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

It occurs to me that maybe this question is simply one of picking an artist paired with the correct meal (like Sam Cooke with linguine and clams or something). I’m going to answer it though as it first occurred to me, as in who would you like to break bread with and what would you eat? There’s nothing like meeting up with an interesting person in a place where you can actually talk and kick around ideas. I do find that to be one of the great perks of the job. I always remember the anecdote that Dylan recounts of Bono swinging by his house with a case of Guinness. That sounds like a fun evening. As much as I’d love to have dinner with Tom Petty or Taylor Swift, I feel like the most thrilling connection usually occurs when you aren’t too star-struck and I wouldn’t trust myself with either of them. Also important to me in a hang is that folks have a good sense of humor. So I’d lean towards a night of steaks on the grill with Dave Grohl. I like his vibe.

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

Rarely. Probably to a fault, I need to identify with a character if I’m going to sing it. It makes it increasingly hard for me to even perform certain songs from earlier in my career because I don’t identify with the wisdom being expressed or the aims of the character. I have a ballad called “Such a Way” that I wrote when I was in my mid-twenties. I sing about “the woman down the street with a daughter twenty years.” This made lots of sense when I was 24. Now that I’m in my 40s it feels a bit lecherous when I sing that line if I think too much about it. I mean I can get back to the sentiment of young love sure, but I also have a teenage daughter myself now and it just doesn’t feel as true to me to narrate; although I’ll sing it at shows, it’s hard for me to have an emotional experience with that song sometimes. No judgment because how else can Robert Plant sing “Whole Lotta Love” or Foreigner do “Hot Blooded” without feeling ridiculous? For me, though, if I don’t relate it’s kind of like acting instead of music.


 

BGS 5+5: Kari Arnett

Artist: Kari Arnett
Hometown: Minneapolis, Minnesota
Latest Album: When The Dust Settles
Personal nicknames: Kari Anne

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

It’s hard to answer with only one artist but some inspiring artists I’ve been listening to are: Caroline Spence, Lori McKenna, First Aid Kit, Margo Price, Neil Young, and one artist I always go back to is Tom Petty. All the good vibes right there.

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

When I’m not writing or touring, I am usually out near a lake somewhere. The flow of the water is like the ebb and flow of life… it’s a good meditative area to sit and reflect on what’s to come or what might have been.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Usually, I have to spend some quiet time alone before a show to ground myself for what’s to about to happen. Silence can be a powerful tool. Also making sure I’m well-hydrated is important.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I think it was when I was little and I would watch shows that had live music, like Austin City Limits. It was inspiring to watch and growing up in a musical household, I had a feeling I would always have something to do with music.

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

I read a lot of poetry and that imagery that I get, can set the tone for song, as well as movie scores–anything that moves you in that creative way can get thoughts moving to inspire the next song.

https://open.spotify.com/user/124052670/playlist/1H7R5qYsX0rvCwaxtmeGV4?si=YoMdyOeoS9mi0Q8kZf2c0Q

WATCH: Sweet Alibi, “Crawling Back to You”

Artist name: Sweet Alibi
Hometown: Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Song: “Crawling Back to You” (from Canada Covers Tom Petty – A Tribute to Tom Petty)
Label: Comino Music

In Their Words: “Petty was a prolific songwriter, he could draw you in just by hearing the first lyric or hook of his songs. ‘Crawling Back To You’ is a song we’ve all lived inside, at one point in our lives. Singing any Tom Petty song gives every musician a taste of what it feels like to be a rock and roll hero.” –Sweet Alibi


Photo credit: Jen Squires

BGS 5+5: Ryan Culwell

Artist: Ryan Culwell
Hometown: grew up in Perryton, Texas; lives in Nashville now
Latest album: The Last American
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Earl the Squirrel and the Combat Brigade

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

Several years ago I was on stage in a honky-tonk in Texas. I had my eyes closed and was playing a very long solo on guitar, when the crowd started roaring and cheering. I thought I had become a golden god, but when I opened my eyes, my friend Daniel Davis, the bass player, pointed out into the crowd where a fight had broken out.

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

I like words. Reading is important to my process. I read poetry, short stories, novels, etc. If I’m not reading then I run out of fuel pretty quickly. When I was a kid I would write poetry on the walls in black magic marker. I’m sure my parents were furious, but they never showed it; they just kept encouraging me to play with words.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

When I was 10, I wanted to be a painter, an author, a professional baseball player, and Bon Jovi. There was a pretty good chance that I would have played college sports at a high level, but I ripped my shoulder out of socket a few times and all my plans instantly changed. At the time I was devastated, but now I look back and think it might have been providential. I quickly turned all my attention towards words when sports fell away and that played a big part of how I wound up playing music. Also, I have Siri setup to call me Bon Jovi, just for kicks.

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

I’m always looking for water. Lately I’ve been fishing a lot with Megan McCormick who co-produced The Last American. Water has a certain draw and fishing is like performing magic. Another friend of mine, Adam Riser, is one of the top kayak fisherman in the nation and he always describes fishing as reaching into another mysterious dimension and pulling a creature through to the other side. I like that way of thinking about it.

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

I don’t really hide when I write. In fact, I do the opposite. I step into other people’s shoes and try to feel through them, so sometimes it’s actually “you” but I’m saying “I” so I can sympathize more. On my last two records, I think I’m about as honest and vulnerable about myself as I could possibly be without getting naked in front of a microphone. Actually, whose to say I didn’t record these songs naked? Maybe I did.


Photo credit: Neilson Hubbard

MIXTAPE: Elise Davis’ Songs I Love and Why

Below is a list of songs I think are special and timeless. Some are songs I’ve loved for many years, others are songs I was particularly influenced by during the making of my new album, Cactus. Get ready for a party in your ears. — Elise Davis

Willie Nelson – “Time of the Preacher”

I’ve always loved Willie Nelson but recently had a revival of that love. I decided I wanted to go out to the desert to shoot the album cover so I packed up my car and drove to Terlingua, Texas. I stayed in the middle of Big Bend so there was no cell phone reception, which was appreciated and amazing other than the fact that while driving around in the desert I couldn’t listen to any music other than what CDs were in my car. Turned out I had Willie Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger in my car. I put it in the player and never took it out. The whole week that album was on low in the background and sometimes the foreground and I never wanted to turn it off. The experience led me to dig into older Willie records that I hadn’t heard much, and now I have gone through phases of also obsessively listening to Teatro and Stardust. His voice is one of a kind and he has made so many timeless albums.

Lucinda Williams – “Lonely Girls”/“Ventura”/“Those Three Days”/“Drunken Angel”/“Something About What Happens When We Talk”

This was too tough to name one song. She is my all-time favorite songwriter. I am a huge album person, so I picked songs from my favorite albums but I suggest just listening down to the whole album in its chosen sequence. Like Willie, Lucinda has a one-of-a-kind voice. She always has killer musicians and great production on her albums, which only enhance the songs that strongly stand on their own with just an acoustic guitar and vocal. I am a lifer fan of Lucinda. My favorite albums: Sweet Old World, Essence, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, and World Without Tears.

Aimee Mann – “Thirty One Today”/“Goose Snow Cone”

I have loved Aimee Mann since I was 16. She has such a cool vibe, intelligent lyrics, awesome melodies – it’s good shit. One of my all-time favorite songs of hers is “Thirty One Today.” I’ve had a plan for a long time to book a show on the day I turn 31 and cover it. “Goose Snow Cone” is a track off her most recent album, Mental Illness. This album completely blew me away. The whole thing is so good!!!

Kathleen Edwards – “House Full of Empty Rooms”

When I first heard this song I cried. I was blown away by its beauty. The lyrics are so simply put yet so impactful and heartbreaking. Her voice is soothing. I have listened to her album Voyager hundreds of times over the years and I feel Kathleen is a hidden gem.

Bahamas – “Like a Wind”

This is a current band I really dig. I haven’t caught a show yet but am going to as soon as I can. The songs are catchy, the harmonies throughout are amazing, it’s upbeat and feel-good but has depth and character. My favorite albums: Bahamas Is Afie and 2018’s Earthtones.

Sharon Van Etten – “Tarifa”/“I Wish I Knew”/”Every Time the Sun Comes Up”

Her voice is so unique and beautifully melancholy. I am the kind of person that likes to listen to depressing music when I feel depressed and Sharon’s albums have been a go to for me on the darker days. “Tarifa” and “Every Time the Sun Comes Up” are off her 2014 album, Are We There. That record as a whole is pretty intense and sad, but one of my all-time favorite albums.

Loretta Lynn – “When the Tingle Becomes a Chill”

I am a huge Loretta Lynn fan. She is a pioneer for women in country music and cut so many songs that were edgy, even controversial, lyrically at the time. And I love that. This was hard to pick one, but I chose “When the Tingle Becomes a Chill.” She is singing about when a husband comes home at night and gets in bed, what used to be a tingle of sexual desire is now replaced with a chill. It’s real, and raw, and that’s what I’m all about.

Harry Nilsson – “Everybody’s Talkin”

To me this is one of the most beautiful songs ever recorded. I have spun this hundreds of times. His music was authentic and he was a true artist.

Tom Petty – “Time to Move On”

As with most of the artists I am naming here, one song is really hard to pin down as a favorite. I chose this song because during the time of recording my new album, Cactus, I was obsessively listening to Tom’s album, Wildflowers. It is one of those records you can just let roll through the whole thing over and over. I love the freeing mood of “Time to Move On.” It makes you want to go on a drive, roll the windows down, and let go of all the bullshit you’ve been carrying around.

Wilco – “Jesus, Etc.”

I had to include a Wilco song because I have loved this band for a long time. They have their own sound, clever lyrics, and just an overall great band. This was one of the first songs that got me into them so I chose this one. Others I really love “How to Fight Loneliness,” “Please Be Patient with Me,” and “Hate It Here.” My favorite albums: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Summer Teeth, and Sky Blue Sky.

Sheryl Crow – “Maybe Angels”

This song is off of Sheryl’s massively famous self-titled album, which includes mega hits such as “If It Makes You Happy,” “Every Day Is a Winding Road” and “A Change Would Do You Good.” But to me every song on that record is fuckin’ timeless. I have said this many times over the years and still wholeheartedly stand behind it: I think if this record came out today it would have the same amount of success. It’s just that good. She was a big influence to me as a 12-year-old learning to play guitar and beginning to write songs, and still as an adult this album is a classic and one of my all-time favorite albums.


Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

WATCH: The Wailin’ Jennys, ‘Wildflowers’

Artist: The Wailin’ Jennys
Hometown: Winnipeg, Manitoba
Song: “Wildflowers”
Album: Fifteen
Label: Red House Records

In Their Words: “We’re so excited to release our fan-sourced video for our version of Tom Petty’s classic ‘Wildflowers.’ It ended up more beautiful than we could have imagined thanks to our fans submitting gorgeous and meaningful images and video. All of them clearly illustrate each person’s concept of love and freedom. It is a video full of pure joy and we couldn’t be more proud to release it to the world! We hope you love it as much as we do.” — Nicky Mehta


Photo courtesy of Red House Records

In Memoriam: 2017

The year end is a time for round-ups — reflections on the cultural, social, and political landmarks of the past 365 days. But the tragedies brought on by ideological conflict, mass violence, and natural disasters in 2017 are particularly hard to sum up in a few simple phrases or talking points. That’s where music comes in, lending form to feelings and ideas that we may otherwise struggle to put into words. Luckily, there were plenty of releases that did just that throughout the course of the year (and we’ve highlighted our favorites on our BGS Class of 2017 lists).

However, this function of songwriting is far from new. Music has provided respite or thrown down the gauntlet since its inception, and 2017 saw the passing of artists across all genres who have channeled this power brilliantly for years. We lost Sharon Jones, Curly Seckler, Butch Trucks of the Allman Brothers Band, Chris Cornell of Soundgarden and Audioslave, Hüsker Dü’s Grant Hart, AC/DC’s Malcolm Young, Steely Dan’s Walter Becker, Sister Sledge’s Joni Sledge, Montgomery Gentry’s Troy Gentry, Jimmy LaFave, Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington, Kevin Garcia of Grandaddy, and Pat DiNizio of the Smithereens, among others.

Here, we pay tribute to and honor the legacies of musicians who have bolstered communities, broadened the scope or forged new paths across this broad spectrum that we call Americana.

Chuck Berry (October 18, 1926 – March 18, 2017)

Chuck Berry is heralded as one of the preeminent fathers of rock ’n’ roll. His influence is so profound that John Lennon once famously remarked, “If you tried to give rock ‘n’ roll another name, you might call it ‘Chuck Berry.’” Born in St. Louis, Berry signed to Chicago’s Chess Records in 1955 and produced some of the biggest staples in American music like “Roll Over Beethoven,” “Sweet Little Sixteen,” “Rock and Roll Music,” and “Johnny B. Goode.” Berry contributed just as much to the landscape of country as he did to pop and R&B, and his songs became hits for heavyweights like Waylon Jennings, Emmylou Harris, and Buck Owens. His impact on the genre was recognized in 1982, when he was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. In 1984, he received the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1986 as part of the inaugural class. Released in June, Berry’s posthumous record, CHUCK, became his first studio release since 1979. Tinged with playful nods to the past, it’s a fitting farewell from the architect of rock ’n’ roll.

Gregg Allman (December 8, 1947 – May 27, 2017)

As co-founder of the Allman Brothers Band, Gregg Allman was one of the most enduring figures in music. Allman and co. rose to fame as sonic trailblazers with their amalgamation of soul, gospel, R&B, country, and jazz. Allman was a strong proponent of the blues, and while he is often hailed as the king of Southern rock, it’s a moniker that he didn’t fully embrace. As Gregg Allman Band guitarist and music director Scott Sharrard told us in an interview earlier this year, “[Gregg] used to say to me all the time, ‘Nothing matters but the blues. You can go in all kinds of directions with music, but if you don’t have blues, you don’t have shit.’… And he also used to say something to me, which I thought was a really, really deep and important historical and contextual understanding of musicology in America, that there’s no such thing as Southern rock. All rock is Southern. It’s all from the South. All of it.” During Allman’s quest to preserve and build upon the blues tradition, he penned notable tracks like “Midnight Rider,” “Melissa,” and “Whipping Post.” He passed away in May due to a reoccurrence of liver cancer, leaving behind his posthumous release, Southern Blood, and a legacy of down-home soul that cuts right to the heart.

Glen Campbell (April 22, 1936 – August 8, 2017)

Selling 50 million records over six decades, the Rhinestone Cowboy reigned as country royalty, but is just as deserving of the title “Crossover King.” In the ‘60s, his guitar chops earned him a spot in the Wrecking Crew, a cast of sought-after session musicians in Los Angeles. As part of the Crew, Campbell played on infamous recordings like Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night, the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, and Elvis Presley’s Viva Las Vegas. Toeing the line between pop and country, Campbell became a solo star in his own right, with a perfect croon that was unmatched. He was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2005 and awarded with the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2012. In 2011, Campbell announced that he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and embarked on a Goodbye Tour, which was captured and subsequently released as a documentary film. He lived to see the June release of his final album, Adiós, which he recorded with the help of his longtime friend and banjo player, Carl Jackson. A pop star and a country legend, Campbell will forever be remembered as the down-to-earth farm boy from Arkansas who never lost sight of his roots.

Don Williams (May 27, 1939 – September 8, 2017)

The Gentle Giant got his start in the mid-60s, forming the Pozo-Seco Singers with Susan Taylor and Lofton Cline in his home state of Texas. After the trio went their separate ways, Williams moved to Nashville in the ‘70s and launched a prolific solo career that kept him on the top of the charts for decades. From 1974 to 1991 and over more than 40 albums and 50 singles, he never charted below number 22. Williams’ straightforward tunes and smooth vocal provided the framework for some of modern country’s biggest names, and his contributions were honored during his induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2010.

Jessi Zazu (July 28, 1989 – September 12, 2017)

The word to describe Jessi Zazu is fearless. The Nashville-based singer/songwriter co-founded the band Those Darlins as a teenager alongside fellow musicians she met at the Southern Girls Rock Camp. Born out of an affinity for the Carter Family, Those Darlins sonically ran the gamut from rockabilly to growling punk and back again. On stage and off, Zazu was the epitome of grace and grit. An artist through and through, she was a staple in the Nashville scene who was just as prolific in the world of visual art as she was in songwriting. Those Darlins planned to go their separate ways, performing their final shows in March 2016 just weeks before Zazu was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cervical cancer. She publicly shared her diagnosis with a video last December in which she shaved her head and wore a t-shirt bearing the phrase “Ain’t Afraid” — a Those Darlins song written years prior. Zazu was a fighter and a creator until the very end; she continued coaching young women at the Girls Rock camp, recording solo music, and hosting art exhibitions. In her short 28 years, Zazu exuded a strength, determination, and passion that will serve as an example for young women for years to come.

Charles Bradley (November 5, 1948 – September 23, 2017)

James Brown’s frenetic set at the Apollo Theater on October 24, 1962 was given an official release the following year. One of the most acclaimed live albums of all time, its magnetism impacted generations of music fans, including a young Charles Bradley, who was in attendance at the show. In the years that followed, Bradley worked a series of odd jobs — from a cook to a James Brown impersonator — all while keeping his aspirations of a singing career in focus. Bradley’s big break finally came in the form of Gabriel Roth, who co-founded Daptone Records. Roth introduced Bradley to producer Tom Brenneck, and the result was Bradley’s debut album, No Time for Dreaming, released in 2011 when Bradley was 62 years old. Over the course of six years and two more albums, Bradley delivered captivating, worldly soul ballads that garnered him his own nickname — the Screaming Eagle of Soul.

Tom Petty (October 20, 1950 – October 2, 2017)

Tom Petty is a national treasure. Songs like “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” “I Won’t Back Down,” “American Girl,” and “Free Fallin’” are so ingrained in the American fabric that it’s hard to imagine a time when you could turn on the radio and not hear Petty on the dial. After a chance encounter with Elvis Presley, Petty became interested in music, later dropping out of high school to join the band Mudcrutch. After its dissolution, he formed Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers — the platform which would solidify his status as a rock icon. He recorded two albums as part of the supergroup the Traveling Wilburys, which also included Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, and Roy Orbison, and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2001. Petty and the Heartbreakers had just wrapped a 40th anniversary tour when he suffered a heart attack. Petty’s death came as a gut-wrenching shock, just a day after the mass shooting at the Route 91 Harvest Festival in Las Vegas that killed 58 people. But we can all find solace in Petty’s legacy, which is palpable. No doubt his contributions will continue to serve as mainstays in music for years to come.

Fats Domino (February 26, 1928 – October 24, 2017)

Fats Domino ushered in the early wave of rock ‘n’ roll, topping the charts in the ‘50s and ‘60s with “Blueberry Hill,” “Walking to New Orleans,” and “Blue Monday,” among others. His adept piano playing and hearty stage presence was infectious, and he was eclipsed on the charts only by Elvis Presley, coming in a close second. His New Orleans rhythm and blues captivated a wider audience and popular music was all the better for it. Rock ’n’ roll heavy hitters like John Lennon and Led Zeppelin later covered his work, and his accomplishments were recognized in 1986 when he became part of the first class of inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Fats’ brand of boogie woogie injected new life into pop, and his reverberations can still be felt today.

Counsel of Elders: Chris Hillman on Looking Across Time

Chris Hillman — he of the Byrds and Flying Burrito Brothers fame — has returned with a new solo project, Bidin’ My Time, after more than a decade away. As he’s said in countless other interviews, he was resigned to living out the concluding chapter of his musical career. He’d all but packed up any ideas about recording another album, but he knew enough not to turn down an opportunity to work with Tom Petty, when it unexpectedly came calling. Petty produced Bidin’ My Time before his untimely death in October. The LP was originally supposed to be acoustic, but once the pair got in the studio, Petty’s ear for rock ‘n’ roll opened up Hillman’s songs. All 12 tracks, an array of original and covers, retain their originally imagined acoustic structure by sitting heavily in the folk and bluegrass traditions, but they’re expansive, grander realizations.

As the title suggests, the album finds the legendary folk artist concerned with time — lifetimes, past times, and “the times.” (Though the project was released before Petty’s death, that, too, has imbued the album with added meaning, but it’s not a point Hillman wants to exploit. He holds tight to the memories he made recording with the equally iconic musician, and only sometimes loosens his grip enough to let a rose-colored anecdote slip through.) On Bidin’ My Time, Hillman collected his career in songs new and old. He covered Pete Seeger’s “Bells of Rhymney” with former Byrds bandmate David Crosby and executive producer Herb Pedersen singing harmony. He also re-recorded Byrds co-founder Gene Clark’s “She Don’t Care About Time”; the song he co-wrote with Roger McGuinn, “Here She Comes Again”; and, of course, a tip of the hat to Petty with “Wildflowers.” Then there’s the title track and “Restless,” both of which reveal a presence of mind that knows more endings loom on the horizon than beginnings. If Bidin’ My Time ends up being Hillman’s last solo album, it only means he’s come full circle. Turn, turn, turn.

Tom Petty has covered the Byrds and you’ve covered Petty. What was it like getting in the studio together after you’ve both danced around each other’s music in the past?

He had subtle ideas and he guided me in a way. Originally, when we were talking, before we started the record, I said, “You haven’t heard my songs.” He said, “Oh, I’m not worried. Believe me. If I hear something that doesn’t quite fit, I’ll let you know. We’ll work it out.” Which he did. It was a joy. Everybody had a good time, and nothing was planned, in that sense. It really started as an acoustic album, but then we had the Heartbreakers come in and overdub some stuff. It worked out great.

Your styles are different, but you obviously found a way to blend them. What did that process of compromise come to look like?

Well, I don’t know if I would ever stop to analyze it. Tom started out with a great love of the Byrds; he said the Byrds were so influential. But he took it 10 steps up the ladder, musically. There’s one song, “Listen to Her Heart,” that sounds so much like a Byrds song, but it’s highly evolved Byrds, and then he just took it off. As we all do, you start out — even as an actor or a painter or as a musician, of course — you start out really imitating, and then you seek to innovate. You take the best parts of what you’re learning as a young person and then you develop your own style — your signature style — which he did, and which I did to some degree. There’s a close proximity of musical styles all coming out. For me, for the Byrds, we all came out of folk music until we plugged in. And, of course, I came out of bluegrass. I must admit, I was a little nervous. I didn’t know if Tom would like my songs. As you know, I had no intention of making another record. I was done.

I know, and that’s what makes the timing so interesting to me. And, on top of that, there’s a theme of time throughout all the songs.

Well, I’m sitting there thinking, “I’m done.” Not out of bitterness. I said, “I’ve had a great time. I really don’t want to make any more records.” And this came along, and how can you say no? Toward the end, I started to say, “This is almost a conceptual record.” It’s touching on early acoustic, semi-bluegrass things that I started out with and then, through the Byrds, covering one Gene Clark song and redoing “Old John Robertson.” It sort of touched on different decades of what I did.

Right, even though Petty fleshed out the sound, it definitely holds to an acoustic structure between the folk and bluegrass elements.

That’s where I came from. The Byrds were very acoustic-oriented.

Speaking to that folk element, I’ve always associated the genre with containing really important messages. The song you covered, “When I Get a Little Money” — written by your friend — has such a beautiful message that it seems plucked from the ‘60s folk movement.

Well, I get handed songs a lot. Usually, you don’t take them. But this is the first time in probably 50 years where I get this CD — and, really, it’s a favor to my wife’s cousin who knew this young man and he’s a school teacher — and I hear this song, and I think “Well, that’s fantastic.” It had so many different little nuances to it, and I asked him if I could record it. He flipped out; he was so happy. It came out great.

And you’re right about the folk music and the message. Our first manager in the Byrds really drilled it into our heads. He said, “You guys go for substance or depth in your lyric, whether you’re writing the song or whether you’re finding the song, because you want to make a record you’ll be proud of 40 or 50 years down the road.” “Turn! Turn! Turn!,” well, Roger had remembered Pete Seeger doing that, and how Pete had put the melody to Ecclesiastes. That was a real nice tune to cut, as was “Bells of Rhymney,” another song where Pete put melody to a Welsh poem. You could dance to these songs, but they were in the folk tradition. There was a deeper message to each song; they were story songs. “Turn! Turn! Turn!” is almost an owner’s manual on how to live.

Right? That is, if you’re paying attention.

Yeah, but as Solomon wrote it, it’s all in black and white. There’s no gray area there, which is fine. I think we all, having come out of folk music, had that sense of story or some depth to the lyric. We tried to. We didn’t always — we cut some stupid songs. At the time, you think it’s the hippest thing in the world, and you listen back and think, “Why did I record that?”

So your former manager’s advice stands true, then.

Well, I’ve lived by that rule. Like I said, what I think is really brilliant at the time doesn’t always stand up over the years.

How do you see folk music impacting listeners today as opposed to what you were trying to convey back in the ‘60s and ‘70s?

I don’t see it any different. As you get older — and here I’m very happily married for 38 years, and I’ve got two grown children, I’ve got a granddaughter; the greatest blessing in my life — if I sit down and write a song, it’s going to be something closer to a mini short story. There’s a song on the album, “Such Is the World That We Live In,” and it was a tiny jab, in a political sense, but it was also how I felt about how things had so rapidly changed. I wasn’t trying to tell anybody how to live. It’s the grandfather telling the young people things are acceptable now that never were acceptable, in the sense of relationships and this and that.

I grew up, as did everybody my age, with a sense of civility and manners. We were taught manners, we were taught responsibility, we were taught, if we got in trouble at school, we’d get in trouble at home. It was never a case of the parent suing the school because the school teacher yelled. There was a sense of order and structure. It’s not as I see it anymore. Am I going to be able to do anything about that? No. What keeps civilization on an even keel is laws: moral laws, ethical laws. And we seem to have strayed away from that all over the world. I don’t think it’s a matter of evolving. So you’re accepting it in the song.

But it wasn’t always an ideal time. Out of folk music — this high, moral tradition — came Altamont, rampant drug use, and this degeneration into chaos.

You’re absolutely right. Okay, I played Monterey Pop, a beautiful festival. It was the true peace and love thing. And then, within a matter of two or three years, there was Altamont, which I played, too, which was the darkest, most frightening day I’ve ever spent in music. The minute I got off of that stage, I took off. It was dreadful. Then it started to slide into this chaos. The ‘70s were one of the darkest decades.

Right, so then, if you look at history’s cyclical nature, we’re seeing a similar pattern as what took place nearly half a century ago.

Then you have to look back thousands of years. There’s some validity to the story of Genesis — that man is determined to destroy each other in some way, shape, or form. I don’t hold the ‘60s up as some wonderful time. A few years were great. I think my generation were trampling on all those things I told you about that kept our civilization pretty much in order — the values and things. But we’re not going to talk about that. We’ll talk about music. Music never dies.

When it was confirmed to me on that Monday that Tom passed away, I was so much in shock that I said to the guys, “We’re going to cancel the next four shows and go home.” Roger McGuinn called me — I hadn’t spoken to him in a year or two — he called me up to talk about Tom. I said, “I’m going to cancel and go home.” He said, “No, you’re not. Tom wouldn’t want you to cancel your shows.” Tom and Roger were very close friends for years and years. Roger laid it out to me in a gentle way. I said, “You’re absolutely right.” We continued on and finished the shows in Tom’s honor.

So then how did the album’s significance change in light of his passing?

Here’s the fine line: I am not using this as an opportunity. I’d rather have that album in the trashcan and him alive. It’s a very touchy subject for me. Here was a man who was an incredibly big rock star, but he had more of a grip on humility than any of us can aspire to, and I’m a Christian. We aspire to have that virtue of humility. He had it. Every morning, he would come into the studio with a tray of coffee. He didn’t have one of his employees bring it. One time, I drove up and I was getting stuff out of the car, and he said, “Let me take that for you.”

I can see why you’d want to be protective of that.

Tom’s death shocked everybody in the world. The thing he possessed besides humility, he was so accessible as an artist. His music affected everybody in a positive way — 40 years, an incredible catalog of work. Everyone could relate to Tom Petty. He was everyman. The absolute best rock guy we had, post-Beatles. I didn’t see any health issues with him. He had something with his knee or his hip that is common territory, when you get into your late 60s.

It was so unexpected. In that spirit, then, what you were able to accomplish on this record …

I wanted to do a great album. The opportunity coming along when I wasn’t going to record anymore … One of the last conversations I had with Tom — the album was about wrapping up — I said, “Tom, I can’t thank you enough. This exceeded my expectations.” He said, “It exceeded my expectations.” I said, “It’s a wonderful way to end my career.” He said, “What are you talking about? I’m not done with you. I’ve got other plans for you. We’re going to get to do some more stuff.” I thought, “Wow.” That was nice to hear. If anybody could’ve put the Byrds back together — Roger, David, and me — it would’ve been Tom. He knew us all so well. It didn’t happen, but that’s okay. We all loved him. If you didn’t know Petty, you loved him.