BGS 5+5: Kirby Brown

Artist: Kirby Brown
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee (by way of New York City; Dallas; Sulphur Springs, Texas; and Damascus, Arkansas).
Latest album: Uncommon Prayer + new EP, Dream Songs out June 7, 2019
Personal nicknames: Kirbs, KB, Corbin Biscuits (hi, Matty!)

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

I could never narrow it down that far, so [I’ll] touch on a few here. Joni Mitchell, for her ability to be raw and personal while simultaneously touching on something emotionally universal. Townes Van Zandt, because nobody else could make plain language sound so sacred. I love Randy Newman for the juxtaposition of his complex sense of character development with the simple familiarity of his melodies. John Prine is the master of using levity to disarm you in one line, only to jab the dagger through your heart in the next. All of these have made a lasting impact on my approach to the song craft, but I could go on and on. Of course, I probably can’t escape the influence of my musical surroundings growing up: country gospel, ‘90s alternative, the radio.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My friend Dylan LeBlanc took me as solo support on his European tour in Fall 2017. There were several “wow” moments on that tour, but I specifically remember a show at Pustervik in Gothenburg, Sweden. The venue was perfect, the sound was on point, and the audience and I just felt like we had something special going on. It was one of many magical moments on that run. There’s something to be said for European audiences’ capacity to tune in and really “go there” with you. I’m so thankful for that, and I’m looking for any excuse or opportunity to go back.

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

After my parents split up, I’d only see my father every so often. He’d gone back to college as an English major and (I think) rediscovered a lost interest in literature, specifically poetry. For that reason, many of our visits would come back to whatever he was reading at that time. He gave me Norton’s Anthology of Poetry when I was nine years old, and so began a lifelong journey with language and how we use it. I’m still walking down that road — this year’s focus has been Maxine Kumin, Donald Hall, and Anna Karenina. Film-wise, I once went through a period when I was trying to learn a second language and watched only Spanish-language films for a year. I found one of the songs I recorded on my new EP in an Almodóvar film, and it has haunted me ever since. Lately it’s been Westerns by John Ford. I digress… I guess we’ll save painters for our second date.

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

Aren’t they all tough? Not really, I guess they do come fast and easy sometimes. Still, the longer I do this the more pressingly I feel the need to filter myself. This is for the best I’m sure, but it does make the writing slower and more arduous. I carried around the phrase “a Playboy for the interviews, a Bible for the maps” for the last three or four years. I don’t even know why, maybe I thought it was funny? Anyway, it only recently found a home in “Little Miss” from the new Dream Songs EP. I don’t even know if it works. Either way, at least I’m not toting it around anymore.

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

All the time, honestly. I approach most everything I write like it’s fiction: made-up characters and stories, some conversation I heard in passing, etc. But somewhere along the way it almost always ends up being me or someone I know or some synthesis of all the above. Still, I don’t think it’s hiding, maybe it’s just a very effective trick I keep playing on myself. Mark Twain has a quote attributed to him about “not letting the truth get in the way of a good story.” I tend to believe that it’s best to not let a little fiction stand in the way of the truth — even if it’s the hard truth about yourself you weren’t ready to hear.


Photo credit: Jacqueline Justice

BGS 5+5: Taylor Alexander

Artist: Taylor Alexander
Album: Good Old Fashioned Pain
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

This may be a little left field, but when I discovered Chris Carrabba’s music with Dashboard Confessional as an early teen it totally changed the way I looked at music. It hadn’t occurred to me up to that point what one guy and a guitar could do. It blew my mind to see a guy with an acoustic guitar impact people so greatly with his lyrics like that. His music led me directly to the greats like Bob Dylan, Guy Clark, and Townes Van Zandt, so his influence can’t be denied.

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

Reading has always informed my writing. I don’t necessarily write a song based on a book or a character that I’m reading at the time, but I often find that just the act of reading gets my writing muscles warmed up and ready to work.

Martial arts has “art” right there in the name, so I would be remiss not to mention the impact Brazilian Jiu Jitsu has had on my writing and my life. Jiu Jitsu requires a similar intentional, focused effort that writing does, and forces you to learn patience and perseverance to push through when you feel like you can’t. I try to apply that same grit to my writing practice, forcing myself to push through a block and keep working on a song until I think it’s done, and not settling for less.

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

When I was in 2nd grade I performed a really simple guitar arrangement of “Ode To Joy” for a school talent show. I was really nervous because I’d never played in front of people before, but I’ll never forget how invigorated I felt after walking off stage. I definitely caught the bug at that moment.

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

Guy Clark had the best references to food in his songs, from “Homegrown Tomatoes” to “Texas Cookin’,” so I immediately think of him. Some authentic Texas BBQ, a couple cold beers and Guy Clark playing would be about as good as it gets.

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

I realized recently that I do this quite a bit. I’ve been joking on stage about how this album is really just me talking to myself for over half an hour, and I’m not sure that I realized that while writing the songs. I don’t really write about fictional characters — when it comes down to it, I write songs to speak to myself as much as I write to speak to an audience.


Photo credit: Joshua Black Wilkins

Discovery of Townes Van Zandt Continues With ‘Sky Blue’

“I have a big gun safe next to my desk….”

When a tale starts with those words, you know it’s going to be interesting. But it’s not what you might first think. This safe didn’t contain the weapon for a hunt. It held the prey.

Let’s let the speaker continue:

“…where I keep all the CDs people give me, but can’t listen to them all.”

That’s Jeanene Van Zandt, who was married to the late Texas singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt. Inside that gun safe in her Nashville home was also a disc containing “lost” recordings Townes made in a friend’s basement studio in the early 1970s. And on that disc were two songs for which she had been hunting around the world for years — as well as what may be the first recorded versions of Townes’ most famous song, the ballad “Pancho and Lefty,” and another favorite, “Rex’s Blues.”

Now 11 songs from that disc, including those four, have been put together for the album Sky Blue, the title coming from one of the previously unheard selections. On March 7, the set was released on his family’s TVZ Records via Fat Possum, on the 75th anniversary of Townes’ birth. And it comes at a time when a new generation — the fourth, by Jeanene’s calculations — is coming to discover Van Zandt’s music, even if some don’t know that he died in 1997 after years of issues with substances and mental health.

“I still get letters from people who have no idea he’s dead,” says Jeanene, who is also executor of Townes’ literary estate. “Things like, ‘We’re working on this tour and heard your music.’ I have to say, ‘Sorry to inform you that he died 22 years ago.’”

Since Townes died, Jeanene has spent a lot of time and effort tracking down recordings he’d made and never-released songs in his rather itinerant life. It’s been a dedicated effort of tracing rumors, following document trails, seeking out his friends and acquaintances, and/or just going with intuition, sometimes paying off, but often finding dead ends.

The current discovery was made by Will Van Zandt, her son with Townes, who took it upon himself to go through the stored material. One of them was a disc simply labeled “1973,” given to Jeanene a while back by Van Zandt’s longtime friend, Atlanta-based journalist Bill Hedgepeth, who had a little studio in the basement of his home where the singer would sometimes record things on which he was working.

“Will came and took some of the discs and had a box of them in his closet and kept telling me about some of the recordings and I said, ‘Bring ‘em!’” she says. “There have been certain missing songs I had looked for for years. Townes would say, ‘I know they’re out there! Find them!’ Over the years I’d stumble across lost songs here and there. And there are two on this one! Two songs I’d scoured the world for.”

“Sky Blue” and “All I Need,” the other missing song, are prime examples of the mix of sorrow and sharp character portrayals plied with starkly economic language that stand as Van Zandt’s artistic signatures. But there’s much more to be treasured on this set, including what may be the first recording he made of “Pancho and Lefty.” That song was made familiar to many when Emmylou Harris recorded it in 1977, and to many more in 1983 when a duet by Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard took it to No. 1 on the country charts, cementing Van Zandt’s stature as a premiere folk songwriter of that era. Townes himself has a cameo in the pair’s video.

Among the others on the album are deeply caring versions of the folk song “Blue Ridge Mountain Blues” and the murder ballad “Hills of Roane County,” plus tributes to fellow songwriters Richard Dobson with “Forever For Always For Certain” and Tom Paxton with a gorgeous “The Last Thing on My Mind,” which is a perfect closer for the new collection.

That there have been so many songs and recordings to be tracked down is a reflection of Van Zandt’s scattered life. The actual dates of these recordings may have come over the course of several years in the early ’70s, a time when he was living variously in Texas, Colorado, and Tennessee, at least when he settled down at all from his wanderlust. He released six albums in that time and had some tentative success, but nothing solid.

Hedgepeth’s home studio, though, was a refuge for Van Zandt, where he felt free to try out songs.

“They were very good friends and he was a very nice man,” Jeanene says. “When Townes would play Hot ‘Lanta he would stay with Bill. Listening to the tapes I’d hear Townes saying, ‘I want this here or that on here.’ So he was working on some project of some sort. Don’t know if this was one sitting or different trips.”

There’s enough variation of sound from song to song that it’s reasonable to assume that it was not all done at one time, but what ties them together is a sense of freedom to express, to try out songs, to sing some things he loved and see how they worked.

“There were 27 tracks, some were repeats, one with a dog barking in the middle, another with the phone ringing,” Jeanene says. “Once we whittled them down we thought, ‘This sounds like a family of songs.’”

A little cleaning up was needed, but the raw unguardedness shines with Van Zandt’s masterful songwriting, guitar playing and singing, connecting the dots between his own spare style and the traditions he revered.

Townes’ own legacy is secure, with dozens of notable artists having recorded his songs and been inspired by his writing, prominently Steve Earle, who not only made a whole album of Van Zandt songs in 2009, but named his son Justin Townes Earle. Others are finding their way to Townes’ music with other new avenues of exposure. Recently Charlie Sexton played him in the movie Blaze, about mercurial singer-songwriter Blaze Foley, a close friend/running partner of Van Zandt and even more of a cult figure.

“[Sexton] was so nervous when they were filming that,” she says. “He knew I’d be there. I came up to him and said, ‘You did fabulous!’”

Townes also figures in the Foley episode of the animated Tales From the Tour Bus series from 2017, in which Jeanene appears sharing her reminiscences of some, uh, colorful exploits.

Katie Belle Van Zandt, daughter of Jeanene and Townes, has found many big fans among her contemporaries.

“I have quite a few friends of the same type of lifestyle that he was living at that age,” says Katie Belle, who is not a musician herself. “There are a lot of musicians around my age, in their 20s, hopping trains and traveling, busking on the road and such, making real folk music.”

A few weeks ago she had the opportunity to play the new release for her friends Benjamin Tod and Ashley Mae of the Lost Dog Street Band and another musician, Matt Heckler, who often travels with them.

“They were the first people I played this to,” she says. “They loved it. They thought it was beautiful. Ben said it reminded him of what songwriting’s about.”

For Katie Belle, the sorrow is what comes through most strongly, but also a sense of life in him that she largely missed, as she didn’t get much time with him.

“The very end of ‘Sky Blue,’ the first time I heard it, where he talks about how he longs to be the sun and longs to be the moon, made me tear up,” she says. “It’s beautiful. When my dad passed away I was really young, and when I get new music I hadn’t heard by him, it’s like wearing another piece of him.”

Jeanene Van Zandt is gratified, but not at all surprised, that her ongoing efforts to get her husband’s music to the world, both old releases and new discoveries, is having impact.

“I don’t think there’s going to be a human who can’t identify with these songs, whether 50 years from now or yesterday,” she says. “He was a master of the English language, studied people — in fact a little naughty doing it. He would push buttons and see what reactions he could get out of people and a lot of times they’d be jumping up and down and trying to kill each other and he would giggle and think it was funny as hell.”

And if some people hear him for the first time with this new release, that’s great too, she says.

“He’s not shrinking away,” she says. “I’m pretty sure there will be a fifth, sixth, seventh generation who will try to get ahold of him to go on tour with them.”

LISTEN: Silver Lake 66, “Ragged Heart”

Artist: Silver Lake 66
Hometown: Portland, Oregon
Song: “Ragged Heart”
Album: Ragged Heart
Release Date: April 5, 2019

In Their Words: “‘Ragged Heart,’ the title track on our new album, was inspired by a documentary we watched about the tragic life of the late, deeply talented Townes Van Zandt. What resonated for me were the consequences brought on by the road taken in the pursuit of the dream. The narrator in ‘Ragged Heart’ yearns to reconnect with an estranged love, even though she realizes that the sacrifices made for the pursuit of a dream demand a heavy price. She’s been through hell and back with her partner, and her heart is worn and ‘ragged,’ although there is still a hint of hope in her words. Musically, the arrangements and instrumentation are stripped down and straight ahead to highlight the vocals. I think of this tune as having a modern California country vibe with a dash of the Bakersfield sound of the ‘60s thrown in for good measure.” — Maria Francis


Photo credit: Jason Quigley

Capturing the Outlaws: Country Music Hall of Fame Salutes the 1970s

Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson are familiar to every country fan – and more than a few would consider them the original Outlaws. In a brand new exhibit, Outlaws & Armadillos: Country’s Roaring ’70s, the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville strives to explain how that name stuck. More importantly, it traces the connection between Nashville and Austin to show how these cities shaped country music in the 1970s, considered one of the genre’s most incredible periods of creativity and individuality.

The emergence of Willie Nelson as an iconic Texas musician is central to the exhibit. His blue sneakers and other parts of his casual wardrobe are emblematic of how he stood apart from country entertainers in that era.

Waylon Jennings and his wife, Jessi Colter (shown above), appeared on the first-ever platinum country album, Wanted! The Outlaws (1976). Guitars, a Grammy Award, and posters from Jennings’ performances in Nashville and Austin are on display.

A poster of the film Heartworn Highways is displayed next to a poncho embroidered with “… and Lefty,” which belonged to Townes Van Zandt. Items from Guy Clark, coach Darrell Royal, Alvin Crow, and Uncle Walt’s Band are also featured.

The comprehensive exhibit explains the contributions of Jerry Jeff Walker, Asleep at the Wheel, Michael Murphey, Doug Sahm and Freda & the Firedogs, through rarely-seen memorabilia provided by the artists.

Joe Ely poses next to the uniform he wore while working for the circus. Ely became a force in Texas music as a member of The Flatlanders and through a number of acclaimed solo projects. He also performed on opening night.

Texas natives Tanya Tucker and Billy Joe Shaver catch up at the opening night party. Jennings’ 1973 album, Honky Tonk Heroes, is composed almost entirely of Shaver’s songs. Tucker broke through in 1972 with “Delta Dawn.”


Text by Craig Shelburne

BGS 5+5: Daniel Daniel

Artist: Daniel Daniel
Hometown: Washington, DC
Latest Album: The Lonesome Hollow
Personal Nickname: Chef Dan

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

It is hard to pinpoint one artist. There have been so many that have impacted and inspired me along the way. The ones that truly dig down and touch my soul seem to evoke beauty, angst, and heartache with their writing — people like Townes Van Zandt, Son House, Little Walter, Simon and Garfunkel, Hans Zimmer, Jeff Buckley, Washington Phillips.

If you could spend 10 minutes with John Lennon, Dolly Parton, Hank Williams, Joni Mitchell, Sister Rosetta, or Merle Haggard how would it go?

I’d love to sit down with John Lennon, open a good bottle of wine, ask him a hundred questions on his songwriting, and then proceed to write one together.

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

I don’t have a distinct memory of one song, in particular, that was harder to pen than others. When I do encounter those songs that are stubborn, I have learned to lay them aside. If they are meant to be, they will come back around, when they actually want to work with you.

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

Miles Davis was known to be a pretty solid chef and, since I enjoy cooking myself, I think we would have a grand ol’ time.

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

Who, me? I never do that.

MIXTAPE: John Murry’s Southern Soundtrack

When we needed a Mixtape selected for a Southern soundtrack, we knew John Murry was our guy. After all, he is related to William Faulkner.

The Connells — “Lay Me Down”

A song from a pair of North Carolina attorneys and their band about a child they knew who received a bicycle for his 11th birthday, rode it away from home on his own for the first time the next day, fell into a ditch, and broke both of his legs. It rained. The little guy slowly drowned as the water rose.

Lead Belly — “You Don’t Know My Mind”

Though he sang his way out of prison not once, but twice, I seriously doubt it was this song that he sang for his white captors to gain his release — a song now white-washed and remembered fully in circles that have kept a tradition alive, added meaning and mirth to his verses by adding theirs while reviving and performing his original verses. Kenny Brown is a legend in Mississippi. His earliest version, recorded for Fat Possum, is still a touchstone for me.

Furry Lewis — “Judge Harsh Blues”

Another song about law and (dis)order, written by a man who preferred to be known as the one-legged street sweeper of Beale Street in Memphis than a bluesman. The Rolling Stones and U2 both gave him gifts of expensive guitars while he was still alive, living at the top of Beale. He pawned both the day he got them. FTW. RIP, Furry. Universality? All arrestees will soon (or do now) know about 11 months, 29 days … I can’t sign my name either, Furry. I have never known it.

Vic Chesnutt — “Isadora Duncan”

To dream he was dancing with Isadora, the woman who unabashedly danced and — with a sash pulled by the dance and the dancer — first exposed her bare breast to a stupefied, stupefying, and puritanical public … and to write of that dream from a wheelchair. Dance on, Vic. What beauty, what timelessness, what a gift he gave us (though “we” weren’t ready, perhaps, to be exposed to his transcendent and righteous indignation and powerfully fragile poetry).

Big Star — “Holocaust”

In honour and in memoriam of LX Chilton and Chris Bell (though not on this recording), I intend to drop acid later today and report back to no one. Big Star did not simply pave the way for “jangly indie pop”; they created powerful, powerful music with the help of the legend that was Mr. Jim Dickinson (living on, mister!) despite the “obstacles” Ardent and an entire industry placed in their way. Memphis was dying, Elvis was dead, and those listening were “… a wasted breath, you’re a sad eye, you’re a holocaust.” Basketballs, deflated, served as percussion, as there’s no need for a formal drum kit (just ask Stephen Merritt — or anyone who stomps while singing — or any kid in a kitchen with pots and pans and wooden spoons) when heart, broken or bruised, and soul are captured on tape, just as living and gone ghosts on celluloid prints were. William Eggleston playing piano on “Sister Lovers”? Magic. All of it was magic. And this kind of magic terrifies. What happened to them in that place that necessitated this bit of “horror”? No one ever asks the right questions, I suppose.

Jim Dickinson — “Wild Bill Jones”

Jim was the moral compass Southern music needed after the Civil Rights Movement, after Elvis’s death, after Yankee A&R folks no longer visited Memphis — “the capital of Mississippi” — anymore in search of “that” thing the South breeds. The master had tamed the beautiful beast, or so the beautiful beast would have their “master” believe. Bob Frank wrote this one. Kinda. He’s the greatest songwriter you’ve never heard.

Lost Sounds — “Ship of Monsters”  (Not on Spotify)

Jay Reatard was an incredibly complicated person, a lover and a fighter, as sensitive as they come, capable of an empathy that can only lead — in our world — to those blood visions that took him from us too early. I slept most nights at the People’s Temple near the old 616, making prank calls with Jay and the Oscars, and playing shows as a fake straight-edge hardcore band while inebriated. This record was being recorded at the time in the space at the bottom of the warehouse. Scott Patterson and I would listen to “Scenic” on the roof. Abe and I would listen to “Art Bell” in the kitchen. Jay broke a fucker’s arm with a bass for trying to attack him (and us). To fear goodness is silly. But common now. Leaves many stranded. He fought. For me, this was a record that attacked the core of something I lived inside, the first to do so. It taught me. Jay and Alicja Trout are that decency and violence the world needed and still demands. A better vision. No wave. Wtf that means.

Johnny Cash — “Delia’s Gone”

So many have done this. Christ, he did it justice, though. There’s a chair, a gun, suspicion, paranoia, direct Biblical allusions, and death. There ya go.

O.V. Wright — “A Nickel and a Nail”

His life was cut short by heroin, and his career defined by an ever-lurking fear; but he sang of it so well — of the terror of a twilight existence.

Townes Van Zandt — “Waiting Around to Die”“

He wrote this song after he was married. His new bride came to collect him to go to their wedding reception. He needed to finish writing a song down. He did. This is it.

Bob Dylan — “Mississippi”

Written at Zebra Ranch in Mississippi, this song is one that tells a universal truth — at least for those of us from *that* universe. How does Bob know? Same place, different centuries … “I stayed in Mississippi a day too long,” and can’t figure out what sin I committed I must now atone for. He somehow knows place as decay. As stagnant water in motion.

Sparklehorse — “Rainmaker”

Mark Linkous … His life, his words, his melodies simply resonate with me and reverberate in eerie ways. The rainmaker IS coming. He wasn’t “like” Wm Blake; he was cut of the same cloth. Wm Blake was “like” him, too. How odd we are, to see time as distances measurable. “All you’ve got to do is look in the sky and wish.”

Neutral Milk Hotel — “King of Carrot Flowers Pt 2 & 3”

Jeff used to borrow my amp and wrestle — and bite — my 110-pound labrador. This song is one I think I knew before I heard it. It’s that brilliant. “… and dad would dream of all the different ways to die.”

Reigning Sound — “Can’t Hold On” (Not on Spotify)

If ever a man was born out of time, it’s Greg Cartwright. Just listen.

3×3: Jade Jackson on Killing Moons, Rainy Mondays, and Super Moms

Artist: Jade Jackson
Hometown: Santa Margarita, CA
Latest Album: Gilded
Personal Nicknames: My sister calls me George.

 

#SundaySpin – who’s listening to ‘Gilded’ on vinyl?

A post shared by Jade Jackson (@jadejacksonband) on

If you could go back (or forward) to live in any decade, when would you choose?

Early 1700s.

Who would be your dream co-writer?

If he were alive, Townes Van Zandt. I got to write with Mike Ness, which was a dream. Also, Kris Kristofferson, Tom. T. Hall, Conor Oberst, Jason Isbell …

If a song started playing every time you entered the room, what would you want it to be?

“The Killing Moon” by Echo & the Bunnymen.

 

Gilded | Photo by Xina Hamari Ness.

A post shared by Jade Jackson (@jadejacksonband) on

What is the one thing you can’t survive without on tour?

My lead guitarist, Andrew Rebel.

What are you most afraid of?

Hurting someone’s feelings.

Who is your favorite superhero?

My mom.

 

Thank you for letting me raid your closet, @showmeyourmumu!

A post shared by Jade Jackson (@jadejacksonband) on

Pickles or olives?

Both.

Which primary color is the best — blue, yellow, or red?

Blue.

Which is worse — rainy days or Mondays?

A rainy Monday sounds good to me.

3X3: Chris Kasper on Beethoven, Bob, and Brewing Booch

Artist: Chris Kasper
Hometown: Montvale, NJ
Latest Album: O, The Fool
Personal Nicknames: Kasper, Crisper, Skinny, Gustav, Ghost 

 

Playing #FREEatNOON on @wxpnfm at @worldcafelive Friday, May 5th. Stop by or tune in! #othefool

A post shared by Chris Kasper (@chriskaspermusic) on

What song do you wish you had written?

“Picture in a Frame” by Tom Waits or “Sonata Pathetique” by Beethoven. 

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Zappa, Lucinda, Townes, Tom Waits, and Bob.

If you could only listen to one artist’s discography for the rest of your life, whose would you choose?

Easy. Bob. I’m into everything he’s done, all his various stages of writing, even the ’80s-’90s stuff — 2001 on is my fave Bob period. Love and Theft, Modern Times … I even dig the Christmas record and the standards. His catalog would be cool with me forever. 

How often do you do laundry?

Too personal. Not often. I have to do some now. I’m bad with dishes, too. These are the things that never end, laundry and dishes. I’m the worst. I have to stock up socks, underwear, and towels. I also have a lot of free “SWAG” t-shirts I go through. Button down shirts stay mostly clean, pants stay mostly funky.  

What was the last movie that you really loved?

I like movies with crazy weather and good scenery. The last one that really made me tingle was maybe Beasts of the Southern Wild. Revenant was pretty great, too.    

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

I’m happy with this year! But that might be cheating … I’d pick 29-30. I went on my first sojourn to the desert and to the Pacific Northwest. It really changed me. 

What’s your go-to comfort food?

Cheese sandwich on potato bread with mustard. Same go-to since I was five years old. 

Kombucha — love it or hate it?

Love it. I was brewing my own years ago, when I was living in Oregon. I was also delivering kegs of the stuff, when I was living in Hawaii.

Mustard or mayo?

I say, stay stocked on both. It all comes down to, “Are there tomatoes involved or not?” If not, go mustard. iI tomatoes come into play, must do mayo.

Squared Roots: Lindi Ortega on the Resonating Darkness of Townes Van Zandt

Without question, the legacy of Townes Van Zandt looms large in singer/songwriter circles. Legend has it, Van Zandt all but told Bob Dylan to shove off, when Dylan came knocking on his door wanting to write together. Townes was an immense talent who struggled with depression and substance abuse, and still managed to craft some of the most timeless songs in history. Many of those tunes became immortal while he was still around to see them do so — songs like “Pancho & Lefty,” “If I Needed You,” “Tecumseh Valley,” and more have been covered by Willie Nelson, Emmylou Harris, Lyle Lovett, Steve Earle, Nanci Griffith, Jason Isbell, and numerous others.

Another of his most-treasured and poignant compositions is “Waiting Round to Die,” which has found yet another new life in the hands of Lindi Ortega. On her latest EP, Til the Goin’ Gets Gone, Ortega folds the cover in with her originals like it was her own. She felt compelled to do so because discovering Van Zandt’s catalog broke her through a major writer’s block and reinvigorated her passion for music.   

You didn’t grow up with his music, right? So what was your entry point into his catalog?

I read a lot of biographies and I just kept hearing his name. A lot of my country music heroes had mentioned him. I always thought, “What a cool name, Townes Van Zandt.” And it just stuck in my head. I figured, since a lot of my country music heroes were fans of his, I really should check him out. So, one day when I came back from a tour, I decided to listen to his catalog and, you know how it is when you discover music that you hadn’t known about and there’s a whole well of it to listen to. It was a really incredible experience. I fell in love with his music and his songs and his guitar playing.

There’s so much in his too-short life to latch onto.

Yeah.

Were there aspects of his life that drew you in or was it all about the music for you?

It was really more about the music. That was my definitely my entry point, listening to the words of his songs. His lyrics, specifically, spoke to me. I did watch the documentary, Be Here to Love Me, which I found so sad. I’m sure a lot of that internal darkness resonates in his words and music. And I write a lot of songs that are rather dark and lonely and sad, too, so I guess I felt like I related, in some way. But I’m sure I’ll never understand the demons that he had to deal with in his mind. But, I guess the idea is that songs that come from dark places, all of us humans go through moments that are dark and test us. I think we can all relate to songs in that way. Maybe some of us choose not to go there, but I think we can all relate.

You got a gift from him, in a way, right? Because you were ready to walk away and then you thought, “Maybe I have some more in me.”

Yeah. Definitely. I was going through writer’s block and he became a huge inspiration, songwriting-wise, to challenge myself to be a better songwriter and write more story-like songs. That sort of re-invigorated my love for writing music, in some funny way.

You did “Waiting Round to Die” on your new EP. I hear that and “Til the Goin’ Gets Gone” as sibling songs, or cousins, maybe. Do you hear that?

Absolutely. That’s why I chose to do that particular song as a cover. I was grabbling between that one and “Rake,” because I really like that song, too. But I felt exactly like what you said, that it was a sister song to the song I’d written, so it made sense to put that song on the record. I knew it was going to take the little EP to a very dark space, but … [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. You out-sadded Townes Van Zandt!

I mean, it’s a dark, sad song. The lyrics are very dark. There’s no denying that, so there’s no point in me trying to make it anything other than that. [Laughs] I did: I made a very dark and sad EP, but that’s what I needed to do, at the time. I feel like there are moments for that.

In this day and age, I feel a lot of music is kind of escapist. I feel like the general population in pop music and pop-country, people are trying to escape all the horrible things that are happening in the world and all the dark things that may be happening in their own lives. I get the sense that people want to get out and party, so it’s more like a party music thing that’s happening and not very many people are into this whole idea of embracing dark, sad songs.

But I feel like they are still necessary and people still need them in life because, for me, one of the first dark songs I heard was “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” by Hank Williams. When I heard that, it wasn’t like, “Oh, God. Here’s a depressing song!” It was, “Oh, wow. Somebody else feels that same loneliness I feel.” And I felt like I wasn’t alone in my loneliness. That’s why I continue to write songs like that. And I just went there with this EP. It was necessary. I was going through a moment when I was questioning whether I could go on, musically, and I didn’t think I would. I felt sad and disappointed and a little bit devastated, so that’s what came out.

As you just said, the artist’s life is hard enough on its own, then you tack on battles with bipolar disorder and substance abuse with Townes. Was there a lesson or something you found, going into his work, that made you feel you didn’t have it so bad?

For sure. And that’s with a number of musicians I look up to and love who battled with substance abuse problems and depression. I think I read an article once that said creative people often suffer from things like panic attacks and depression and anxiety disorders. For some reason, it seems to go hand-in-hand with people who make beautiful art. Then there’s this whole other side where a lot of people are suffering greatly, but the upside is that we get beautiful songs or beautiful paintings. They help us understand life and the human condition.

So, yeah, it’s really sad to learn about his life and of course there are lessons … I don’t want to have my life end faster than it should. It sort of, in some ways, helps me understand that I need to really appreciate what I do have. There are things I don’t have that might cause me some sadness, but there are a lot of things I do have that I need to appreciate and feel happy about. So it helps me to do that. Some people have a hard time getting to those places because their brains just won’t let them. I’m just so grateful that an artist like Townes Van Zandt, with all of his internal issues, was able to create all of the music that he did. And it’s legendary and classic and will be with us forever. If there’s a ray of light in a sad story, that’s definitely it.