I left home (a sleepy market town in middle England) the day after high school finished and traveled around the world with just a guitar and a backpack. I paid my way by teaching English and singing songs in cafes. Five years, 36 countries, and two unfinished degrees later, I moved to Canada to marry a girl I’d once met at a party in Beijing and started my new career as a street performer.
Since then, I’ve played about 3000 gigs, from street corners to stadiums, successfully avoided getting a real job, and raised three amazing ginger kids. I love meeting and singing with people of all walks of life, especially the ordinary, humble folks who are often overlooked. I’m not really interested in finding a niche or a scene – I’m much more keen on finding ways to bridge the gaps between them.
One thing we all have in common is hard times and a need to hold on to hope through our grief and disappointment. Songs have always helped me, and do that, and I feel that I’m not alone. These tunes have inspired and comforted me over the years, and a couple of my own can do the same for you. – Martin Kerr
“Love More, Care Less” – Martin Kerr
I recorded this live in one take, because it’s a song about honesty and acceptance, and because there’s already enough airbrushing and auto-tuning in the world. ‘Love more, care less’ is how I’m trying to live my life now.
“Better, Still” – 100 mile house
This gem of a song beautifully encapsulates the feeling of being a young couple trying to find your place in a senseless world. 100 mile house have disbanded now, and they never got the recognition they deserved, but to me this song is timeless.
“Sometimes” – James
I still remember the first time I heard this song, wedged into the middle seat of an old car with new friends on a dark country road in northern England as the rain poured down. It’s an ecstatic, defiant celebration of song, storms, death, and the meaning of life.
“Big Bird In A Small Cage” – Patrick Watson
The softness of this song’s beginning is so inviting. It grows, line by line, with new instruments and harmonies, the song spreading its wings like the bird in the title. I love a song that grows and lifts and takes you on an unexpected journey. Plus, it’s my wife’s favorite, so I always get extra points for playing it.
“Re: Stacks” – Bon Iver
Usually I favor narrative songwriting with a clear story. But this abstract work of genius somehow immerses me in a world, a heart, and a feeling without making any outward sense. It’s the perfect end to a mind-blowing album, carrying the listener from anguish through acceptance to a new day.
“Feather On The Clyde” – Passenger
Passenger was a street performer when he made this record, busking on the streets of Sydney to pay for the recording and sleeping on the studio couch at night. I love the vulnerability and honesty in this simple song with its intricate fingerpicking that ebbs and flows like the titular river. I remember listening to this 20 times in a row on a long flight home and resolving to allow myself to be carried by the flow of life like the feather he sings about.
“A Case of You” – Joni Mitchell
Possibly the greatest vocal performance on any record ever. I’ve always wanted to cover this song, but never felt I could do it justice. Joni paints vivid pictures of heartbreak with her words and illuminates them with the glow of her perfect voice over a lonely dulcimer. The peak of confessional singer-songwriting. I listened to it endlessly in my first apartment in Beijing when I owned nothing but a sofa, a discman, and a handful of pirated CDs bought from the street market.
“Fast Car” – Tracy Chapman
I love that this song was rediscovered by a new generation recently, but the original version can never be beaten. As a 5-year-old hearing this for the first time, I’m not sure I understood the whole story at first, but I pored over the lyrics on the back of the vinyl dust-cover in my sisters room until I knew every word and every note of this young woman’s story from half the world away. The lift into the chorus captures the bittersweet exhilaration of escaping something that was once beautiful, but now has turned dark and needs to be left behind.
“Can’t Unsee It” – Martin Kerr
Unspeakable things are happening in the world at the moment and we’re told to look the other way, to pretend it’s not happening. I made this song to try and express the grief in my heart at witnessing the genocide in Gaza, while being powerless to stop it. The melody is inspired by “Here Comes The Sun,” in the hope that there could yet be some light at the end of this long darkness for the children of war.
“Guiding Light” – Foy Vance
My parents used to sing me to sleep with old Scots lullabies that I only half understood. Foy Vance manages to bridge the gap between Gaelic traditions and the modern world in his music and this song gives me a timeless feeling of home and belonging.
“Innocence and Sadness” – Dermot Kennedy
Hearing Dermot sing this solo for a whole stadium every night was magical. I got to open for him on his cross-Canada tour last year and it was unforgettable. His songs are so nostalgic and so fresh at the same time, ancient and modern, so personal yet universal. I try to reach for that in my own songwriting and performing.
“Farewell And Goodnight” – Smashing Pumpkins
I used to fall asleep to this song every night when I was 16 and 17, when I was trying to figure out who I was, where I belonged, and why the girls I fell for never fell for me. Listening now I can hear it starts with a brush on a snare drum, but I always thought it was the waves lapping on the shore. The song is a calm and wistful end to a chaotic album full of angst and confusion (Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness). I think it taught me the value of simplicity and comfort, of contrast and context. I can still hear the click of the stop mechanism that would almost wake me up as the tape ended on my cheap plastic boombox.
Music is all about moments. It’s a fact we tend to lose sight of, forest for the trees, despite the fact that music can only exist in this, the present moment. Each pluck of a string, each breath of a voice, each lick, hook, and improvisation – no matter how practiced or free – is but a mere moment.
As we all rewind the calendar year to relive the last twelve months and all of the turmoils and triumphs they held, we asked our BGS contributors to reflect on which musical moments they experienced this year that were most memorable, most moving, and most transportive. Which musical moment would you return to, if you could? Which musical moment returns to you, again and again and again?
Our year-end lists are not intended to center on superlatives or “bests;” we don’t so much care about what “should” or “shouldn’t” land in one of these collections. Curation of this sort is never truly objective, so why pretend it is? Instead, we hope our writers and our readers will be able to demonstrate and appreciate that music is never about measuring or comparison, metrics or accomplishments, accolades or awards. Music is about moments – and about wholly inhabiting those moments, together.
Below, our first-rate writers, thinkers, and contributors share the musical moments from 2024 that impacted them most. From Beyoncé galloping through our hearts with Cowboy Carter to intimate, people-first festivals like Laurel Cove Music Festival in Kentucky. There’s also music from harlequin creators like American Patchwork Quartet, Kaia Kater, and Rhiannon Giddens alongside memories of the late Dexter Romweber and the strength of mutual aid and community solidarity in Western North Carolina post-Hurricane Helene.
2024 held so many intricate, ineffable, one-of-a-kind moments, good, bad, ugly, and gorgeous. We hope you’ll take a second to recall your own most memorable musical moments of the year while we share ours – and while we all look forward to many more in the year to come.
August 20, 2024 – Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata, Oslo, Norway
Photo by Dana Yewbank taken at a show by Chris Acker and Dylan Earl at Folk i Storgata in Norway.
While this doesn’t quite fit any stereotypes about Scandinavia, black metal, or Viking-inspired neo-folk, Norway has a thriving Americana music scene that welcomes and celebrates even lesser-known American folk and country artists. Chris Acker and Dylan Earl are two of these undersung artists, both represented by Nick Shoulders’ record label Gar Hole Records out of Arkansas. This past summer, Acker, Earl, and I all coincidentally ended up in Oslo, Norway, at the same time, where the pair put on an intimate, inspiring, and tightly-packed show for a crowd of about 30 people in a tiny bar with pink walls. They bantered with the audience, backed each other up on a few songs, and even spontaneously formed an unrehearsed superband with the bar owner and their Norwegian opener – and they were damn good. Acker and Earl are both deeply thoughtful musicians who use their power and presence as men on stage to question the status quo of “good ol’ boy” country and stoic male musicality. Their candidness and subversive humor drew the room together that night with a sense of camaraderie, safety, and concentrated joy. – Dana Yewbank
Act Now! A Paperface Zine Benefit Tape for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
A harrowing statistic from the UN agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) reports that as of March 2024, the number of children killed in Gaza over a mere five months (October 2023 to February 2024) surpassed the number of children killed in global conflict over the four years prior, combined (2019-2022). As of December 2024, we are a year and two months into the ceaseless genocide being waged against the innocent civilians of Palestine and the horrific violence only continues.
I salute everyone who has waged resistance against genocidal powers, be it contacting senators, galvanizing communities to action, participating in rallies, or, in this instance, artists and musicians who have used their platform as an act of protest. Paperface Zine, a blog that writes and interviews an eclectic mix of underground artists, spearheaded this collection of tunes in an effort to express solidarity with Palestine and raise funds towards the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund. This Benefit Tape is a shining example of how most any skill can be mobilized to support greater communities; creativity and care forever go hand in hand. – Oriana Mack
American Patchwork Quartet, American Patchwork Quartet
American Patchwork Quartet have pieced together one of the best albums this year. Don’t take our word for it: they’ve been nominated for a GRAMMY for Best Folk Album. That’s the moment we want to celebrate. With all due respect to the other nominees, it’s exciting to see a brand new project get recognized so quickly – particularly one that colors outside the lines like APQ. The quartet add a number of global influences to traditional American songs: a guitar solo here, a sitar there, and a fine sprinkling of tabla make the quartet live up to their name. Now, especially, we need statements that American traditions were born of a tapestry of European, African, and Indigenous cultures that continue to be built upon by everyone who chooses to make this place a part of their own quilts. – Rachel Cholst
September 26, 2024 – Asheville, North Carolina’s Music Scene and Hurricane Helene
On the night of September 26, Hurricane Helene ravaged Western North Carolina with unprecedented rainfall and flooding. What resulted was a tight-knit area completely decimated and utterly distraught by the destruction of numerous communities. The current death toll for the state sits at 103, with many others still missing.
Beyond the cultural, economic, and unbelievable physical devastation to Asheville and surrounding towns, the city’s vibrant and world-renowned live music scene was brought to its knees – a radio silence that lasted several weeks, with numerous unknowns lingering for certain storied venues. But, with great resolve and a steadfast attitude of helping your friends and neighbors, the vast music community in Asheville and greater WNC came together with countless benefit concerts and fundraiser album compilations (Caverns of Gold, Cardinals at the Window) — an effort that remains at the forefront of the region’s recovery that will take years, if not decades, to return to normalcy. – Garret K. Woodward
Beyoncé, “Jolene”
Country music is for everyone and there is something fascinating about an album which ends up in the territory between categories. Beyoncé is a great singer, and has been flirting with country for a very long time; she has the chops to sing “Jolene” better than Dolly. So, when she sings that she’s “still a Creole banjee bitch from Louisiana,” she is making a series of arguments: that country exists in response songs; that the other woman should be given the mic; that the landscape mirrors the territory; and that the gatekeepers should be torn down, like the walls of Jericho. – Steacy Easton
February 4, 2024 – Tracy Chapman & Luke Combs, “Fast Car”
Luke Combs released his version of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” in 2023, but it was his performance with Chapman on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards primetime telecast that rocketed the song from country radio back into the mainstream zeitgeist. Where Combs’s recording highlighted the song’s working-class vibes, seeing him perform it alongside its (Black, queer, female) writer gave the song’s legacy even greater heft. “Fast Car” was always a song about women carrying more weight than any single human can; about the urgent, nagging desire to flee toxic cycles; about how fleeting freedom can sometimes feel. For better or worse, all these things became emblematic of 2024. – Kim Ruehl
Rhiannon Giddens
You would be hard-pressed to cite anyone in any genre who had more memorable musical moments in 2024 than the superb vocalist, composer, and instrumentalist Rhiannon Giddens. Her writing brilliance was showcased through the Silkroad Ensemble group and project. Her arrangements of folk songs were part of their landmark American Railroad tour program along with commissioned pieces from jazz artist Cécile McLorin Salvant and film composer Michael Abels, as well as fellow Silkroad artists Wu Man, Layale Chaker, Haruka Fujii, and Maeve Gilchrist. Giddens was featured on banjo and viola on the hit single “Texas Hold ‘Em,” part of Beyoncé’s huge Cowboy Carter LP. Giddens added another GRAMMY nomination for Best American Roots Performance with “The Ballad of Sally Anne” from the excellent compilation My Black Country: The Songs of Alice Randall, too. Hard to believe there’s any ground left to cover for the MacArthur Genius and Pulitzer Prize winner, but Rhiannon Giddens continues to stun and surprise audiences with everything she does. – Ron Wynn
November 14, 2024 – Zachariah Hickman’s Power Outage Party! at Club Passim, Cambridge, MA
Not sure how bassist and music director Zachariah Hickman (Josh Ritter, Ray Lamontagne, Barnstar!) pulls off his many acts of mischief, but the Power Outage Party! shows are the most creative, beautiful, and emotional musical experiences around. Presented in mid-November by Club Passim, the shows featured a collective of musicians (including members of Della Mae and Session Americana) and guests (this year including Taylor Ashton, Mark Erelli, and Kris Delmhorst) performing without any power in the historic 100-seat club in Harvard Square. The band is lit with camping lanterns and tea lights. The audience is shoehorned in so tight (I was nearly sitting on the cello players’ lap) that you can’t help but feel a part of a very special community. Every time I go, I carry the experience and inspiration with me as we all work through the darkest part of the year. – Cindy Howes
February 24, 2024 – Kaia Kater, “In Montreal” at Folk Alliance International
One of my favorite and most memorable musical moments of the year occurred at Folk Alliance International, where Kaia Kater and her band performed tracks from her brand new album, Strange Medicine, at BGS’s private showcase. In a small hotel room with a handful of audience members, Kater began “In Montreal” with her looping, cyclical, trance-like clawhammer banjo groove. I was immediately transported, immediately grounded, gently – and forcibly – brought to the moment. I still experience the same visceral sensation each time I hear this track begin, the old-time banjo hook leaving and rejoining the beat deliciously, sketching out an expansive pocket. This night, in cold Kansas City, Kater was joined by flutist Amber Underwood (AKA Flutienastiness), who was even further transportive and dreamy in her interpretations of the track. It was a transcendent song, a daring banjo-flute dialogue, a mind-blowing mini set, and a perfect harbinger of what Strange Medicine would cure and balm. – Justin Hiltner
June 7-8, 2024 – Laurel Cove Music Festival
The gem of a festival located just north of the Cumberland Gap in Pineville, Kentucky, has fostered several special moments in recent years, but none come close to matching the memories from Wyatt Flores and The Red Clay Strays headlining sets there this past June.
The first came when Flores’ mics were cut off before an encore, leading to his band sitting atop the speakers lining the stage for a crowd sing along to Tyler Childers’ “Lady May” that to this day still gives me goosebumps. But if that wasn’t enough, The Strays topped it the following night when their show turned into an impromptu baptism after people in the crowd began jumping into the shallow pond surrounding the stage during a performance of their hit song, “Don’t Care.”
Both occurrences were pure magic from two of the year’s hottest country-adjacent acts in an intimate setting with only 1,500 people in attendance, showing that even in the age of corporate mega-festivals the best things still do come in small packages. – Matt Wickstrom
Though he was never top of the pops – or even on the charts at all, either solo or with Flat Duo Jets – wildman proto-rockabilly guitarist John Michael Dexter “Dex” Romweber was still an inspirational icon in the roots-rock world and a key influence on major bands like White Stripes and Black Keys. Romweber was just 57 years old when he died from a cardiac event this year, a shocking event that inspired a worldwide outpouring of tributes that went on for days. Maybe the best of all came from Jack White, who was always wide open about the depth of Romweber’s influence on White Stripes. Writing on Instagram, White proclaimed that Dex “was the type that don’t get 3 course dinners, awards, gold records and statues made of them because they are too real, too much, too strange, too good.” That’s the truth. – David Menconi
July 27, 2024 – Langhorne Slim, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” Live at the BGS Jam at Newport Folk Festival
While putting together the set list for the BGS Late Night Jam, “A Bluegrass Situation,” at Newport Folk Festival back in July, our old pal Langhorne Slim suggested a new tune he had just written. Would the house band be willing to learn it for this special occasion? In the words of our jam host and BGS co-founder Ed Helms, the song was an “instant Newport Classic.”
Slim’s new tune, “We the People (Fuck the Man)” – later released on streaming platforms just before the election – echoed through the Pickens Theatre that Saturday night and immediately got the audience on their feet. Its lyrics are as timeless and rallying as any Guthrie tune, but amidst all the declarations against greed and polarization there’s an optimistic plea in the chorus:
So let us love our neighbors Protect the land Look our brother in the eye When we shake his hand It’s been this way a long time It’s hard to understand The time has come for everyone We the people, fuck the man
In these tumultuous times, Slim gave us words (and a performance) we shouldn’t soon forget. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Sam Williams & Carter Faith, “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own”
Sam Williams and Carter Faith drape their fringe-laced voices over Tammy Wynnette’s “‘Til I Can Make It on My Own.” While honoring the song’s 1976 roots, the two rising stars spin their own lonesome and delicate performance that seems to transcend time and place. “Lord, you know I’m gonna need a friend,” they sing, trading stunningly confessional lines and background harmony. “‘Til I get used to losing you/ Let me keep on using you, ‘til I can make it on my own.” Through a honeyed, emotionally resonant arrangement, Williams and Faith demonstrate exactly why they’re among the best of today’s new crop of talent. – Bee Delores
Yasmin Williams, Acadia
The guitar is perhaps the most ubiquitous instrument in the modern world, making it even more notable that a picker like Yasmin Williams could still stake out fresh territory on the instrument, finding and championing her own truly original sound and approach. Acadia is a masterwork, breaking still new ground after Williams’ incredibly successful 2021 album, Urban Driftwood. While Acadia isn’t exactly a reinvention for the picker-composer-innovator, it does limitlessly expand the acoustic universe she’s been fleshing out since releasing her debut, Unwind, in 2018. That’s a fairly short runway for a creative to accomplish so much, especially given Williams seemingly treats her guitars as brand new devices each time she picks them up to compose. The results are often bafflingly, jaw-dropping, and dramatic – but always musical and ceaselessly inspiring. – Justin Hiltner
Photo Credit: Tracy Chapman live on the 2024 GRAMMY Awards; Kaia Kater by Janice Reid; Langhorne Slim with Ed Helms at Newport Folk Festival by Nina Westervelt.
For years, Jett Holden dreamt and dreamt about making a living through music, but everywhere he turned he was met with doubt, subtle prejudice, and closeted racism that left him running on empty and searching for something new.
Following a journey to rock bottom, Holden is back stronger than ever on The Phoenix, a 10-song collection that catalogs his rise from the ashes and spotlights the community that embraced him when it seemed nobody else would. Told through a mix of countrypolitan, rock, punk, metal, and R&B sounds, the record is proof that there are no boundaries to who, where, and what good music can come from – and that we all benefit from everyone having a seat at the table, sharing their stories and perspectives.
“This album reflects who I’ve been throughout my entire life,” Holden explains to Good Country. “It’s been really cool to look back on when and where my different influences come from while bringing these songs to life. For example, ‘Karma’ is definitely Paramore meets Stapleton, while ‘West Virginia Sky’ harkens to my Tracy Chapman and Jim Croce influences.”
Fresh off a move to Nashville, Holden spoke with GC over the phone about the doubt and prejudice he’s faced along his musical journey, his work with the Black Opry, using music to heal past trauma, and more.
There’s a lot going on in your song ‘Scarecrow,’ from exploring your family’s reaction to coming out to masking the crippling weight of other’s doubts of what you’re capable of – along with a slew of Wizard of Oz references to the scarecrow, tin man, and cowardly lion. Mind sharing how all those ideas coalesced into one?
Jett Holden: It’s the first song I finished for the album. I wrote it back when I was 25, and at that point my family and I didn’t really have a personal relationship. It had gotten to the point where I came out 10 years earlier and wasn’t sure where I stood with them. I wasn’t disowned, but I also didn’t have anyone to turn to – they all pretty much told me they didn’t want to hear about it. I didn’t want to keep living in limbo, so a few years later I skipped town and moved to East Tennessee, which is where [Black Opry founder Holly G] found me in 2021.
You also had a brief stint living in California around this time that left you on the brink of quitting music for good. What all transpired out there?
I moved out to Long Beach after dropping out of community college. I was in talks about a development deal and during the “get-to-know-you” phase I let it slip that I was gay and they responded by saying that I wasn’t marketable as a Black, gay man doing the kind of music that I wanted to do. Things fell apart from there, which is why I left California and moved back to Virginia before eventually relocating to Tennessee.
Aside from that moment, were there any other circumstances that contributed to you feeling so defeated about your music prospects?
When I first moved out West, there was a very steep trajectory that isn’t common for most people, but it quickly deteriorated after I mentioned being gay, making for a really high peak and a really low low. When I returned to Virginia things got stagnant and didn’t progress at all, even moving backwards at times. It was a frustrating time of trying to figure myself out that culminated in the move to East Tennessee where I was roommates with a close friend before coming home one day after she committed suicide.
Another of my friends got cancer around the same time and just recently passed too, so those were very traumatic years for me. By 2020, I just couldn’t do it anymore, so I started going to therapy right before the pandemic hit and the world shut down. Suddenly [music] was just too much to deal with, so I stopped making it. Being online was toxic so I shut down, got a stay-at-home job with AT&T, and accepted that as my future, working my way up in the company.
Then Holly — and the Black Opry — came around?
Exactly. I’d already called it quits when she found me on Instagram through a video I’d posted of my song “Taxidermy.” I only had that and a couple other covers posted, but it was enough for her to take interest and slowly pull me back into the industry. A couple months later she launched the Black Opry as a blog and it’s crazy to see where things have gone since then.
Within a year I’d gotten to tour all over the country, appear on The Kelly Clarkson Show, and I recorded my first single and EP through a grant I received from [Rissi Palmer’s] Color Me Country. Holly has made so many things possible that had been unavailable to me for my entire career until then, fighting for me in ways nobody else had before. She took chances because she wasn’t an industry person, but rather a flight attendant who was just a fan of country music and wanted to feel connected to it and the artists she was listening to, which is something a lot of others were in search of as well.
When I went to the first outlaw house she threw at Americanafest in 2021, I was expecting a bunch of Black country fans to show up, but it was also the queer community, the Latin community, and the women in country music that didn’t feel like they were getting a fair shake of things. Everyone who felt “othered” in country music showed up and it felt like immediate family. Seeing the excitement around that is what drew me back in.
Speaking of your song “Taxidermy,” I remember you being brought to tears while singing it during a Black Opry panel at Americanafest that same year. What’s that song meant to you, both in its message and what it’s meant to your career?
That song relaunched my career essentially, because I wasn’t chasing music when I wrote it. In fact, when I posted it online I only had one verse and the chorus. Despite it not being complete, Holly still sent it off to Rissi Palmer and got me the grant and I finished writing it the day we recorded. It’s a song of frustration that I didn’t expect many people to watch when I posted it, but Holly really connected with it, spread it around, and helped it blow up into something bigger than I ever imagined.
I was just singing about my frustrations with what was going on around our country at the time concerning police brutality, which was a big reason why I quit social media and music altogether in 2020. Instagram was the [only] online account I had when Holly found me. That song allowed me to vent about those things, but it also helped me gain the community I needed to break myself out of the news cycle that we were constantly absorbing, because we had nowhere to go. The song came about out of all that negativity, but had a huge positive impact on me that I never expected.
In addition to the support you’ve received from the Black Opry, you’ve also got a helluva team behind you for this record including the folks at Thirty Tigers, [producer] Will Hoge, and collaborators like John Osborne and Charlie Worsham (“Backwoods Proclamation”), Cassadee Pope (“Karma”), and Emily Scott Robinson (“When I’m Gone”). I imagine that, after everything you’ve been through, having folks like that working alongside you is incredibly validating?
Definitely! Emily was the first person I asked, since she was a very early supporter of the Black Opry. We both connected over “When I’m Gone” and our similar stories [around] suicide, so it was a no-brainer to have her sing with me on it. Holly ended up reaching out to Cassadee after I mentioned wanting someone similar to Hayley Williams featured, and she nailed it. It’s very cool seeing all these people I’ve looked up to legitimately wanting to work with me. I still haven’t met Charlie or John, but it’s wild knowing that they’ve heard my song and wanted to be involved in it.
Regarding “When I’m Gone,” is that a reference to your friend in East Tennessee that you walked in on after committing suicide? If so I’m sorry for your loss, but I love how you used the song to memorialize them and bring attention to the plight of suicide. It’s an awful thing to experience, but putting your feelings from it to song is a great way to bring beauty to an otherwise unimaginable situation.
You’re completely right. When I play songs like “When I’m Gone” or “Scarecrow” live I always have people coming up to talk to me about them afterwards, whether it’s someone who’s come out, dealt with religious trauma, or a person who’s just lost somebody close to them. There’s something very cathartic and heavy all at once that’s led to a lot of crying, but more importantly a lot of growth. It’s been great feeling like I’m not going unheard – which I did for over a decade – and having interest in what I’m doing where there wasn’t any before.
We’ve talked about a lot of the trauma captured in these songs, which brings me to the album’s title, The Phoenix. Is that reference meant to reflect how your life — specifically your musical dreams — have been reborn in recent years?
That was the intention. It was about the resurrection of my career, plus I also referenced the phoenix in “West Virginia Sky,” so it felt appropriate. Then, weirdly enough, just after recording the album I had a friend, also named Holly, give me a phoenix bolo tie for Christmas. It was a very kismet occurrence and a sign that that was the correct title to move forward with on the project. It makes for the perfect project, one where I have creative control and wrote every song (besides co-writing “Backwoods Proclamation”). I put my heart and soul into it, and am really excited for people to hear it.
If you could go back in time to speak with yourself when you were about to call it quits, what would you tell them?
Prioritize the relationships you build, because those are the people that will help you get to where you are supposed to be.
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Artist:Hannah Connolly Hometown: Los Angeles, California (via Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Latest Album:Shadowboxing Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Han, Hannah Banana, Hannah Montana, Hanny
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me?”
Most of the songs I’ve written and recorded so far have been very autobiographical and written from a first-person perspective. I often write songs as a way of processing my life and experiences. With my latest album, Shadowboxing, that was still very much the case, with the exception of the title track.
“Shadowboxing” was the first time I recorded and released an original song that felt like it may have been meant for someone else. I don’t think I was hiding behind a character necessarily, but it was the first time I felt a character surface within a song. It made me excited to lean further into that way of writing. I imagine my next record will draw more heavily on the concept of zooming out and drawing inspiration from the stories around me, rather than within me.
What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?
One of my favorite shows to date was in Dublin, Ireland last fall. I was opening for my partner’s band, Young the Giant, and the crowd of over five hundred was the largest audience I’d played in front of in a while. I was a little nervous to be playing a more stripped down format opening for a rock band, but the second I stepped out on stage the crowd made me feel comfortable, supported, and excited. Looking out at that audience, being at peace in the moment and within my music was a feeling I’d dreamt of for a long time. To experience it in reality was surreal. That is a memory I am going to hold onto for a long time.
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I first knew that I wanted to be a touring musician when I was a teenager and joined a pop punk band out of high school. We recorded an EP and self-booked a tour of the East Coast. Driving across the country in a van with friends, seeing new cities, and meeting new people was a highlight of my life up until that point. The minute we got home I wanted to go out and do it again. I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since and I feel so lucky to have returned to touring this year with my second album.
Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?
There are a lot of artists who have influenced me over the years, a lot of them being strong women with a clear message and powerful stage presence.
For me that list includes Dolly Parton, Brandi Carlile, Tracy Chapman, Sheryl Crow, Stevie Nicks, Ani DiFranco, Hayley Williams, and Shania Twain, among others.
Watching these women move through the world was an inspiration to me both as a musician and a person. I hope to pay forward the same kind of positive impact they had on me, in whatever capacity that may be.
If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?
One thing I’ve recently started to realize about my mission is that I want to show up as my full self, powerfully and unapologetically, so that others feel comfortable doing the same.
I spent a lot of my life wrestling self-doubt and fearing the judgment of others. Watching some of my favorite artists take ownership of their art and story helped model for me how I could do that for myself in my own way.
As an artist I aim to be free enough in my expression that others can feel more comfortable showing up as themselves as well. It’s a constant learning process and I find new ways that this goal challenges me everyday, but I am really proud of the ways I’ve been able to grow in recent months with this in mind.
Carmen Dianne is unlike any artist you’ve heard before. Her vocals are powerful, her lyrics and melodies are engaging, and her stage presence and unique instrumentation will leave you wondering if you’re witnessing just learned talent or also a little bit of magic. Carmen is one of an extremely small number of artists who accompany themselves on electric bass while they sing. This is especially challenging, because bass lines often vary greatly from the rhythms of a song’s melody. This coordination is a remarkable act of multitasking. Artists have to be incredibly proficient both as a vocalist and a bassist to pull this off. And Carmen, drawing inspiration from Esperanza Spalding – a well-known singer-songwriter who accompanies herself on upright and electric bass – does so with mastery.
Carmen is an artist I’ve been promoting for years. She took the stage at Queerfest 2022 and absolutely blew the audience away with her phenomenal performance. I’m excited to have Carmen at our show this Saturday, February 24, at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in Nashville. In addition to Carmen’s set, this show features two other phenomenal LGBTQ+ identifying artists that we’ve also featured in Out Now, Brittany Ann Tranbaugh, and Liv Greene
What’s your ideal vision for your future?
Carmen Dianne: My ideal vision for the future is to make a living creating and singing fun, meaningful, and honest music for people like me. I have a hard time answering this question, because I don’t ever want to ask for too much or seem ungrateful since I feel like I’m living my dream already, but I’ve been trying to focus on dreaming bigger lately. But if I can share my biggest dreams without jinxing them, I want to write hit songs that make LGBT people feel at home, make Black people from Podunk, Wherever, USA feel seen, make a way for female musicians in male rooms, and make the kind of music that I hope Whitney Houston would have made had she been allowed to fully be who she was. And a Grammy — a Grammy would be nice too.
What is your greatest fear?
My greatest fear is never reaching my potential or wasting my time!
What is your current state of mind?
I’ve been seeing a lot of angel numbers lately and I’ve just been feeling a big shift coming, and now I feel like it’s finally here. Right now I’m dealing with a time of transition that’s making me focus on transforming into a better version of myself. And it’s really hard. I always feel tired, and it’s hard reminding myself that every little bit I do is enough for that day.
What would a “perfect day” look like for you?
A perfect day for me would look like waking up with the sun, putting on some tea and free writing and setting my intentions for the day, working on music admin stuff like promo and content strategy for a new song rollout while I play with my dog, go to lunch with friends, having a co-write with friends, maybe going to a yoga or pilates class, and going to a gig in the evening before going out to a bar with friends.
Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?
The process of writing is more satisfying for me than the outcome, many times over. The process of writing helps me to process my emotions and helps me to find the truth in how I’m feeling. You can’t really ever get closure from another person, but you can always give yourself closure by writing the end to your own story.
Do you create music primarily for yourself or for others?
When I write music, I’m thinking about two things: One, how I feel, and two, how it’ll make others feel. I’m deliberate about making songs that feel like a warm hug for people like me who just aren’t welcomed in all spaces.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
The best advice I have ever gotten was not to give a fuck what anybody else thinks and to be yourself as recklessly and unapologetically as you can. I met SZA in an airport once (pre-Ctrl) and she told me that. The love yourself recklessly part is from a bellydancer I interviewed for a human-interest article named Portia Lange.
What has it been like for you to watch Nashville change and become more inclusive over the years?
With the changes Nashville has seen in the last few years, it’s just felt like a whole new world has opened up to me. This is not the same Nashville I grew up in where my 4th grade language arts short stories were handed back with no grade, because the teacher didn’t believe a Black child could have written them. This isn’t the Nashville that kicked me out of the gifted program, because a Black child couldn’t have made that presentation on nebulae. Nor is it the Nashville that has told me they love me but don’t approve of me, that I can sit in the church building, but I won’t ever belong. It’s a Nashville that recognizes nuance and recognizes the person inside. And I’m forever grateful for that.
You are one of few artists who play bass guitar while they sing, and do both incredibly well. How did you develop this style/set up?
I absolutely idolized Esperanza Spalding. So, I’ve always thought playing bass and singing and writing songs was the coolest thing somebody could do. How I actually got good at it is a different story. For me, learning to play and sing bass was a little different than learning to play and sing piano. Piano comes more naturally, because you’re playing the same rhythm that you’re singing, but with bass, the rhythm of the bass line often weaves in and out that of the melody. So you’ve got to learn how to split your brain in two. Fortunately for me, as someone with ADHD, splitting my attention is something I’m very skilled in. I often play bass and watch TV at the same time, and that strengthens my ability to multi-task.
You have a phenomenal, distinct voice and you have so much control over it. What has your journey been to become such a proficient vocalist?Do you still dedicate a lot of time to developing that practice?
Thank you, Sara!!! I think a huge part of my vocal control comes from growing up in a very traditional, some might say orthodox, denomination of Christianity called the Church of Christ. In addition to believing it is the only one and true church, the Church of Christ also does not believe in using instruments during worship. Although its emphasis on tradition and outright refusal of any modernity in instrumentation, decoration, and lifestyle of course comes with its caveats, what’s nice about it is that songs from the 1880s are preserved and performed exactly as they were back in the day. The Church of Christ shaped my voice, it shaped my worldview, and it also shaped my knowledge and understanding of music.
The Black Church of Christ, specifically, tends to sing many of the same songs and spirituals that we did during slavery. It was hard growing up in the Church of Christ for a number of reasons, but I will always be grateful for the understanding of American musical history that it gave me. Without it, I would not be able to meander my way around gospel, blues, country and R&B the way I do, because all of these genres comes back to a cappella voicings and progressions that were born right alongside our country and paint a sonic history of who we are.
And as far as becoming a proficient vocalist beyond that, I just sing every day and put my heart into it every day. I don’t carve out time for singing, because it comes out of me when it wants to and because I love it, that’s often. And that’s all. Now, I’m working more on my showmanship when getting out from behind the bass, and that involves a lot of singing with a hairbrush in the mirror the same way it did when I was a little girl. Nothing really changes too much, and that’s a good thing.
Since the Grammy Awards ceremony on February 4, the country and folk music worlds have waited with bated breath for the Recording Academy to share a stand-alone video of Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs’ stunning collaboration on their mutual, cross-generational hit, “Fast Car.” Late last week, the Academy made our dreams come true – you can now watch the performance in its entirety. (View above.)
The song was a highlight of the Grammys’ primetime telecast and, to its global audience and more thanone commentator, signaled a sense of unity and come-togetherness that many feel is woefully lacking in the current zeitgeist, news cycle, and pop culture content machines. Chapman seemed to glow while Combs quite obviously basked in her limelight, content in sharing the stage and the iconic song with one of his childhood heroes. Chapman, something of a recluse in the past two decades, occupied the enormous Crypto.com Arena stage with a quiet confidence and an undercurrent of joy. An electric energy emanated from her guitar strings as she picked the unmistakable melodic hook. Then, on the song’s soaring chorus, the two sang in unison, finding power and common ground in a lyric that has now been sung, heard, and enjoyed by millions more – and entirely new generations.
In the audience, celebrities and musicians like Taylor Swift, Michael Trotter of the War and Treaty, Brandi Carlile, and many more sang along boisterously, indicating the staying power of the song and its lyrics – and the long-lasting adoration held by so many for Chapman.
“Fast Car” will continue to resonate long into the future – and not just on road trip playlists. It’s a perfect, sonic example of the angst endemic to the American dream, of queer placemaking and history-telling, and of all the ways a story so specific, granular, and microscopic could feel entirely universal and relatable. There’s a reason why so many listeners have needed reminding that Combs didn’t, in fact, write the song himself – no matter who we are, where we come from, or who we love, we all so easily see ourselves reflected in “Fast Car.” We’re each hungry for that reflection; “Fast Car” is satiating and then some.
For a brief moment during the Grammys’ 66th Awards Ceremony, we were all contented, joyful passengers in Chapman and Combs’ cosmic “Fast Car.” Let’s each take time to continue to inhabit that moment, as we navigate the traffic of our busy, distinct, distracting, and often divided lives.
What is Good Country? A great question, to be sure. It’s a new brand coming from BGS in 2024 that will feature all good country. A bi-weekly email newsletter that’s curated and one-of-a-kind, Good Country will feature long reads, playlists, videos, interviews, and more all highlighting the best of country music from across the roots music landscape.
But what is good country? A much more nebulous question! As one wise social media commenter put it, “You’ll believe it when you hear it.” We posed the “What is good country?” question to our BGS contributors and the year-end list they’ve put together is striking in its depth, breadth, inclusion – and it’s full of good country, certainly. From Tanner Adell’s boundary-pushing, pop-inflected country trap to Dean Johnson’s retro, genuine sounds; from Jelly Roll to Kara Jackson, “Fast Car” to “Lavender Country,” good country has been all around us all year.
Whatever good country is to you, we hope you’ll find plenty of it below, within our list of country favorites from across 2023. And, we hope these albums, songs, and performances whet your appetite for plenty more Good Country, coming from BGS in early 2024. Sign up now to be one of the first to enjoy our upcoming newsletter, direct to your email inbox.
Tanner Adell, Buckle Bunny Before we forget, “Old Town Road” was not only a novelty, but a masterpiece of a country song, and a reminder that the South has always been a vulgar mix – the more vulgar, the more forward-thinking, and the more complexly, political. In a rejoinder to stupid, butch truck songs – and a specific “fuck you” to people like Aldean – Adell’s Buckle Bunny is filled with all kinds of specific geographic detail (see the chorus to “Bake It,” which goes: “Brown sugar caramel/ Ding ding Patti LaBelle/ Sweet potato pussy pie/…”) in service of sexual and political liberation.
On the highlight of the album, “FU 150,” she owns the truck, the means of production, and any man who trifles with either her or her truck. This has been a year of ambivalent women pushing against dumb men (See Pillbox Patti, Elle King, Tigirlily Gold, Kelsea Ballerini, Hannah Dasher, etc.), but this might be the best time I had listening to music this year, and considering how much we had to endure, can’t we have a little bit of fun? – Steacy Easton
“Fast Car” – Luke Combs, via Tracy Chapman It’s painfully obvious how long overdue it is for Tracy Chapman to be recognized, in this way, as a pivotal American songwriter – plus, the absurdity of her being the first Black person ever to win CMA’s Song of the Year. Still, it’s worth celebrating just how great it is to hear “Fast Car” on the radio again, and for a whole new legion of fans to discover it. – Amy Reitnouer Jacobs
Sierra Ferrell, “Fox Hunt” and “The Garden” We would be remiss if we failed to include the astoundingly radiant Sierra Ferrell from our inaugural year-end round-up for Good Country. From her baffling multi-instrumentalism to her gilded attire to the floral ornamentation of her microphone, Ferrell has captivated the hearts of troves of roots music fans across the globe. Most recently, she graced us with her single, “Fox Hunt,” and “The Garden,” an original song recorded for the soundtrack of The Hunger Games: The Ballad Of Songbirds & Snakes.
Each release is enchanting in its own right; “Fox Hunt” corrals listeners to the dance floor with its sturdy backbeat and fiery fiddles, while “The Garden” delivers a gorgeous, melancholic waltz full of gentle mourning and fertile metaphor. Ferrell’s capacity to encapsulate such a wide range of emotions through the many textures and tonalities of her talent casts her as a superlative country artist of this day and age. We anticipate, with great impatience, the release of her next album, due to arrive sometime in early 2024. – Oriana Mack
Amanda Fields, What, When and Without Whether singing with a hard-driving bluegrass band (like 2019’s “Brandywine”), or atop a pedal steel and gut-strung upright bass, Amanda Fields’ voice cuts right through the mix to deliver thoughtful and resonating lyrics. This is the case on What, When and Without, Fields’ first full-length album, and her first project in the country music realm. Produced by Megan McCormick, the album is a master class in taste, musical restraint, and great singing and songwriting. Fields’ Appalachian-inflected vocal, rested on this sonic foundation, says good country about as clearly as it can. You’re going to want to put on headphones for this one! – Thomas Cassell
Paisley Fields at The Knitting Factory, October 15 What is obvious is that Paisley Fields is an important songwriter and a frontperson of immense talent. What only became clear to me at the Knitting Factory’s new Baker Falls, New York City location on October 15th is that Paisley is also an angel. It might have been the reflection of stage lights on sequin, or the fiery righteousness of blues-rocker “Burn This Statehouse Down” (a Mya Byrne co-write), but I left the show convinced of their divine purpose as a prophet of cosmic country. During the encore, I joined the band on stage for an impromptu tribute to our dear departed auntie Patrick Haggerty and forgot all the words to “Lavender Country,” but the whole room sang, “Y’all come out, come out” until I remembered. – Lizzie No
Kara Jackson, Why Does the Earth Give Us People to Love? You might find Kara Jackson’s manner frank and plain-spoken. That’s a trap. Yes, the young Chicago-raised singer, songwriter, and poet (she was the US Youth Poet Laureate for 2019-20) puts much on the surface, but it’s slippery, shifting ground. It’s right there in the title of her first full album, Why Does the Earth Give Us People to Love?, a question with no answer. She contemplates such things as if on a walk in the park – wandering, meandering. The genre-defiant music, crafted with collaborators Kaina Castillo, Sen Orimoto, and Nnamdi Ogbonnaya, meanders with her, ducking down shadowy side paths, hiding behind trees, dancing in light shimmering through leaves – a short banjo coda here, a swelling choir there. And still questions with no answers, this love and life stuff. In the title song and spiritual center, she laments a friend’s death: “Why does the earth give us people to love, then give them a sickness that kills?” It’s a trap, but it’s going to be fascinating to watch this exceptional artist try to sort it out. – Steve Hochman
Jelly Roll, CMA’s New Artist of the Year My favorite country artist of the year was Jason DeFord, better known as Jelly Roll. He enjoyed a monster year both commercially and industry wide, winning 2023 CMA New Artist of the Year honors and topping all male country vocalists overall with five nominations. He also earned three CMT Music Awards, with his powerhouse anthem “Son Of A Sinner” – in my view a more explosive and dynamic tune than “Need A Favor.” His performance of the latter with Wynonna Judd and “Love Can Build A Bridge” with K. Michelle during the CMA Awards broadcast were among the program’s highlights, as well as being emblematic of his performing charisma and adaptability. But the documentary, Jelly Roll: Save Me (available on Hulu), documented his troubled teen past and redemption from incarceration and addiction, as well as the many current philanthropic activities that’s seen him use his stardom to aid and inspire others. It represents Jelly Roll’s larger societal impact beyond the music world. He’s also combined a love for classic country, as well as folk and even hip-hop, into a distinctive, identifiable and magnetic sound that made his 44+ city Backroad Baptism Tour one of the year’s best. – Ron Wynn
Dean Johnson, Nothing for Me, Please Some of us release music relentlessly from a young age and have to get comfortable with the public watching us learn and grow on the job. Others, such as Seattle’s Dean Johnson, wait until they are fifty to release a debut album and then absolutely knock it out of the park from song one. When a friend sent me “Shouldn’t Say Mine,” I assumed it was from a ‘60s era country artist that everyone else knew about but that I had somehow missed. Wouldn’t you know, it’s from Dean Johnson’s Nothing for Me, Please, released this very year on Mama Bird Records. Mama Bird releases some of the best West Coast roots music, including other favorites of mine, like Anna Tivel and Courtney Marie Andrews, and this new release by Johnson will be making waves for years to come. – Rachel Baiman
Brennen Leigh, Ain’t Through Honky Tonkin’ Yet You know what? Thank goodness Brennen Leigh ain’t through honky tonkin’ yet, someone needs to keep the neon lights burning and the juke box bumpin’ – and we’re glad that someone is Leigh. An album for the lonesome boot scooters, for the belt buckles longing for another to rub up against, Leigh’s prowess as a country alchemist is on fully display, combining sounds from the Midwestern plains, east and central Texas, and Nashville’s lower Broadway refracted through East Nashville and Madison. It’s old country, “real” country, alt country, outlaw country, and more, but most importantly it’s honest, true – and it’s danceable. What’s more traditional than country music that’ll draw tears and flat-footing? The cherry on top of all of it is the picking – you can hear the influence of Leigh’s bluegrass upbringing in every track, like Skaggs in his radio hits heyday or Vince Gill’s bluegrass tinged albums. – Justin Hiltner
Ruby Leighon The Voice 16-year-old Foley, Missouri native Ruby Leigh moved both Reba McEntire and Gwen Stefani to tears on her first live show appearance on The Voice, when she performed a version of McEntire’s own “You Lie,” from the Voice coach’s 1990 album Rumor Has It. Leigh’s vocals are strong and beautiful, and slightly more developed since her September audition for the show. Then, she performed Patsy Montana’s Country & Western classic, “I Want Be a Cowboy’s Sweetheart,” and got all four judges to turn their chairs – The Voice’s equivalent of a unanimous vote.
The crowds seem to love Leigh as much as the celebrity coaches do. In that clip, with Leigh decked out in red and black Western wear, audience members held up red hair signs to indicate that Leigh should pick McEntire as her coach, which she astutely did. Since her television debut, Leigh has racked up thousands of followers and hundreds of supportive comments on Facebook and other social media platforms — all while performing a super classic repertoire and sound. She even yodels! It’s hard not to love Leigh’s moxy, and it’s just as exciting to see people getting thrilled about country music again. Here’s hoping Leigh continues a winning streak on The Voice, and helps folks see what made this genre so good in the first place. – Lonnie Lee Hood
Mipso, Book of Fools Mipso has never been entirely bluegrass so much as bluegrass-adjacent, and the North Carolina quartet’s sixth album finds them farther from conventional roots music than ever. But it’s in service to an artistic identity all their own, with lush pop tones and minor-key vibes predominating. As always, Mipso’s most recognizable sonic signature is the dual lead-vocal approach between Libby Rodenbough’s atmospheric dreaminess and Joseph Terrell’s plainspoken drawl. When they come together to harmonize on “Carolina Rolling By,” it’s truly heavenly. The true leap forward on Book of Fools, however, is Terrell’s guitar, which is every bit up to the standards of the singing. It’s jittery and angular on “Radio Hell,” moody on “I Wait For Your Call,” and jagged enough on “Broken Heart/Open Heart” to live up to a title like that. – David Menconi
Lizzie No, “The Heartbreak Store” Lizzie No’s “The Heartbreak Store” isn’t just a catchy country tune, it’s a lifeline for the heartbroken. Inspired by a transformative tour with queer country trailblazer Patrick Haggerty, the video embodies a message of belonging and acceptance through line dancing. Country music often overlooks queer voices, however Lizzie’s anthem becomes a resonant declaration, echoing the ethos of unity and visibility. With every note, it stitches a musical tapestry of compassion, offering solace and celebration for those who’ve felt the pain of heartbreak, yet hope of community. In under three minutes, it becomes a powerful testament to resilience and love. – Cindy Howes
Jobi Riccio, Whiplash We’re at last reaching a point where queer creators in roots music are being enabled to offer their identities not as the sole complication or subversion of country norms in their music, but as just one of many inputs that wrinkle and challenge ideas of what country is and to whom it can belong. Singer-songwriter Jobi Riccio has had a breakneck year, with seemingly endless momentum piling up behind her stellar debut, Whiplash. Where the first press releases and official narratives around the album centered a “rainbow cowgirl” story, as critical mass continued to grow behind this set of songs, one could sense Riccio intentionally carving out space for their agency among that momentum. Carefully and deliberately, Riccio has re-centered focus away from reductive “rainbow cowgirl” constructions and toward what matters most: The music.
The music is certainly what deserves the focus, with queerness infused throughout, as if just one of Riccio’s own claims to the “outlaw” movement or as a purposeful snare for normative country expectations. Because these songs are straight-ahead good country – there’s a touch of kd lang’s approach, or the Chicks’, or Indigo Girls’ – Riccio’s identity is still indelible, it shines on every single track. It needs no artificial spotlight, or to be considered monolithic. As they discuss class, image, consumption, heartbreak, restlessness, and so much more, queerness is just one of the many entrancing, complicated threads begging to be pulled as you canter along with Whiplash. – Justin Hiltner
Jordyn Shellhart, Primrose Those who enjoy the confessional aspects of country music – but crave an unexpected sound and some humanistic insight – should check out Jordyn Shellhart. An emerging singer-songwriter who released Primrose, her album debut in 2023, she stands boldly apart for a singular voice and crystalline roots-pop style, with equally-exceptional lyrics. Whether breezily defying a cultural convention, delivering a mic-drop romantic kiss-off, rhetorically destroying the clueless cruelty of a teenage boy or dissecting her own mental wellness (or lack thereof), her songs are filled with nuance and sharp, straight-to-the-bone hooks, twisting and contorting along the often irregular path of real life. With the power to make a crowd of jaded journos cry, but very little exposure, she’s almost criminally under-appreciated – although we could fix that. – Chris Parton
Photo Credit: Lizzie No by Cole Nielsen; Brennen Leigh by Brooke Cooper; Kara Jackson by Lawrence Agyei.
Originally from a small town – Gause, Texas – Ruthie Foster came from a family of gospel singers. Singing gospel music acted as a prime method of communication in her life, strongly enough that it ended up being her career. Along the way, Ruthie studied audio engineering in college, which ended up giving her invaluable knowledge to support her artistic expression, especially as a woman in a male dominated field. She quit music for about a year and joined the Navy, wanting to do something other than music. In the Navy, stationed in San Diego, she worked around helicopters, giving her even more of a technical mindset. While in the Navy, she also learned how to be chill AF, thanks to her recruiting officer who led by example and taught Foster and fellow recruits how to relax in their work.
One aspect of Ruthie’s story that blows my mind is her time in New York City. In the post-Tracy Chapman era, she was swept up and signed by a major label looking for the next Chapman carbon copy. During her years with Atlantic, Ruthie took the time to learn how to be a songwriter and performer, while never recording a single thing. It was a genius move and gave her an essential education for a young musician! She moved back to Texas to be with her ailing mother and spend the remaining years of her life together. Ruthie Foster is an impressive artist and person who has learned the lesson of where to be and when to be there. Of her new album Healing Time she says, “There’s always time for healing, if you give it time.” Enjoy!
Within the songs of her new album Outside Child, Allison Russell delves deeply into the extreme trauma she experienced in her youth spent in Montreal both as a mechanism for personal relief, but also in the hopes that it might reach people with similar experiences.
Although she is a member of multiple bands (including Birds of Chicago and Our Native Daughters) and is an accomplished speaker and poet, the release of Outside Child marks Russell’s first solo work as a recording artist. BGS caught up with our Artist of the Month, Allison Russell, from her home in Nashville.
BGS: This is a deeply personal record. What was your writing process like?
Allison Russell: The writing process was having to delve deeply into the most painful parts of my past and childhood and history. I experienced severe childhood abuse, sexual, physical, mental, and psychological. In many ways, I think the psychological is the toughest part to unpack and defang. I don’t know that I am ever going to be entirely free of that and the process of dealing with that. What was very beautiful about this to me is that I didn’t have to go on that fearsome journey alone. My partner J.T. [Nero] was with me every step of the way. He co-wrote many of the songs on this record with me. He scraped me up off the floor when I was in the depths of it.
I have tried at different times in my songwriting life to tackle some of that material and I did on various songs with my first baby band, Po Girl, but I didn’t have the same kind of support and stability at home that I have now. I didn’t have the same amount of distance in time from the events and trauma of my childhood. Time and distance, plus boundless unconditional love that I receive from my partner, were really healing to have that collaborative sense on these songs. It is tough. It is hard to contemplate pain and trauma. That is reflected in the macrocosm of what is happening in our world right now. We are dealing with it every day with each news story of violence towards communities of color. …
We have to go into the pain of it or it perpetuates. The cycles self-perpetuate if we don’t take a stand to stop them. That’s what I’m trying to do personally. Art builds empathy and connection and it helps stop cycles of abuse when we really listen to one another and see and hear one another. It is a lot more difficult to practice abuse and bigotry. I believe in harm reduction. I don’t think we are going to achieve nirvana in this lifetime, in this world, but I do believe strongly in harm reduction and that small things can create mighty ripples. That’s why telling our own stories in our own words under our own names is so important because it can provide a roadmap for somebody else going through similar experiences.
I wish my story was unique. It is not. One in three women, one in four men, one in two trans or non-binary folks have experienced stories very similar to mine.
In “Persephone,” you sing about a lover in your youth who was seemingly a refuge from the trauma you were living through. It feels like a really loving tribute to her. Is that a story you’ve always wanted to tell?
It has become more important to me as I get older to honor those friends of our youth and loved ones of our youth and lovers of our youth who helped shape us and in this case, she literally saved my life. And I wanted her to know that. I also wanted to acknowledge that I am a queer person who is now in a straight passing life and marriage. I fall in the middle of the spectrum of orientation. I’ve been in love with women and I’ve been in love with men and I’ve been in love with trans people and I’ve been in love with non-binary people. I wound up falling in love and committing to share a life with a man, my husband.
One could assume that I’m straight, but I am not and especially in this time of increased polarization and bigotry, it is really important that people understand that nothing is black and white. Nothing is simple and you can’t assume that because I am married to a man and I have a child that I am a straight person. You can’t say homophobic things to me and have it pass. Part of me wanted to really acknowledge that publicly. I am grateful. I don’t get to be here singing today and having my child and my family if it wasn’t for that first love. She taught me how to love and that it was possible. She taught me about kindness and unconditional love. She taught me about acceptance, courage and bravery.
I’d love to know about your influences coming up in music.
Growing up, my mom was my first musical influence. She is a beautiful piano player. We had a really troubled relationship, but one of my first memories is crawling underneath her piano and just listening to her play and watching her feet on the pedals and hearing the resonance under the piano and feeling connected to her in that way, even though she didn’t know I was there. It was a feeling like the music she made was a truer expression of her than the often very hurtful words or violent things she did. That was my first sense of understanding the depth of music, that it goes beyond language.
My grandmother taught me lots of very violent, creepy lullabies from Scotland. She knew a lot of old murder ballads and child ballads and she sang me all of those songs. I loved them. That oral distillation of archetypal stories over generations and time, generally very matrilineal and passed down from mother to daughter, I connected deeply with those songs. That was my first sense of the hidden archive of the world.
My adoptive father was very repressive about what we were allowed to listen to. If it wasn’t Baroque or Classical or maybe Romantic, we would get in trouble for listening to modern music. One of the sort of transgressive things that my mom and I sometimes did was listen to Joni Mitchell or Stevie Wonder together. I have such distinct memories of holding the Ladies of the Canyon album and poring over it and reading the back and seeing Joni’s art. That was very formative music for me.
With Tracy Chapman, I was 9 the first time I heard her. I was on a trip with my uncle and I remember hearing “Behind the Wall” and just bawling because we were the family behind the wall. We were the family where there was violence and abuse and the police were constantly being called. To hear someone writing this and have this sense of recognition that this happens to other people and I’m not alone in the world and hearing her voice and her writing and poetry made me feel I wasn’t alone.
And when I left home at 15, my sonic world exploded. There were all these endless possibilities. I’m a huge Staples Singers fan. John Prine, Lucinda Williams, Emmylou Harris, Taj Mahal (particularly Giant Step/De Old Folks at Home). And Mulatu Astatke, who I’ve been obsessively listening to over the pandemic. His music is expanding my understanding of melody and structure. It is ongoing. The influences never stop and I’m influenced by my brilliant peers as well.
Has your daughter listened to these songs with you? What do you want her to learn about you from the music?
She has listened to it. One of the hard things has been having to talk about abuse with my child. I think it is incredibly important. I think that by the time we start to do that in schools, it is often much too late for the children, including me. I’ll never forget in Grade 4, hearing the song, “My body’s nobody’s body but mine,” and for me that had not been my reality since I was 3. What I want her to know is that we are strong enough to live through hard things and come out the other side of it. I want her to know that she is strong enough, in whatever struggles she faces.
I want her to know that her stories are worth telling and her experiences are of value. She is an infinitely strong being and she is part of a whole long lineage of strong women. I want her to know that. And that she is loved so much and a huge part of why I strive to do anything or be any kind of good ancestor is because of her.
About four years ago in Austin, Texas, Eric Burton and Adrian Quesada were recommended to one another through a mutual friend — someone who could imagine the inevitable magic of pairing Burton’s magnificent singing to Quesada’s cool, pulsating productions. Although these two musicians didn’t know each other, they somehow needed each other. As a songwriter inspired by folk music and soul music alike, Burton sought a vehicle to carry him from busking to the bigger stage, while Quesada — already a Grammy winner for his work with Grupo Fantasma — sought that voice to flesh out the instrumental tracks he’d crafted in his studio, Electric Deluxe Recorders.
Nobody could accuse them of rushing it, as phone calls turned into studio collaborations, and ultimately a few gigs at the South Austin venue, C-Boy’s, just to show their friends what they were working on. However, once the secret was out, the lines to see them perform stretched around the block and Black Pumas promptly landed a recording contract, with a self-titled debut album landing in 2019. Since then, their partnership has led to four Grammy nominations, a trophy for Emerging Act of the Year from the Americana Music Association, an invitation to perform a song for the Biden-Harris inauguration, and even a Super Bowl commercial. In conversation, they are quick to credit each other with the sonic touches that have turned this intriguing duo into an international draw.
For the first part of our two-part Artist of the Month interview with Black Pumas, Burton and Quesada chatted with BGS about the roots of “Colors,” their first show together, and what the Austin music community is really like.
BGS: Finding the acoustic version of “Colors” was such a nice surprise. What kind of vibe were you going for when you recorded that version?
Eric: I think that the first time Adrian heard “Colors” was when I brought the guitar to the studio. I had been trying to record that song with different engineers and producers, and a lot of my friends would reflect that, “Man, the acoustic version has always been my favorite!” When I finally met Adrian, who was equally moved by the song, we were able to not necessarily think about it, really. Adrian started with a palette of sound that went hand in hand with the way that I write music as well. We just did it together and it came out how it did. We have amazing band members and we were able to just press record and do the thing.
Adrian: We recorded quite a few acoustic things, and as much as “Colors” is a Black Pumas performance, at the core it’s something that Eric wrote on acoustic guitar. So whenever you get to hear it like that, it’s more from the source.
I love the acoustic version of “Fast Car,” too. What was going through your mind when you heard that on playback for the first time?
Eric: You know, any time I play that song, a tear comes to my eye because it is one of a few covers that I knew when I was busking. It was a song that would move people to stick around, or tip, or want to engage after the song. So, it was an interesting feeling listening back to that song as a Black Puma, with Adrian Quesada, because I could feel how far I’d come from busking on the Santa Monica Pier to recording at Electric Deluxe.
Is there a lyric in that song that still tugs at your heart when you sing it?
Eric: The lyric that I really attach to is “You’ve got a fast car and I want a ticket to anywhere.” The first lyric is one of the most powerful lyrics. It sets the emotional canvas for the rest of the song. It’s just reflective of the strong desire in many people who start off in the troubadour style of playing and performing, a presentation to passersby.
Adrian, how did you approach that session, being a classic song that everybody knows?
Adrian: Oh man, I just tried to stay out of the way, honestly. Eric’s played it for so long and so well. We were going to work up an arrangement for the band to start playing it at our shows, but we didn’t get it together in time, so he just did it himself as an encore one night. All of us were watching from the side of the stage. It was like, man, why would we try to reinvent the wheel? I just try to complement the song, and the way that Eric emotes it is something that doesn’t need a lot. You don’t need to overthink it.
I love the falsetto on songs like “OCT 33.” It’s effective because you don’t use it all the time. Did you have to figure that out naturally? Or was there ever a conversation like, “Whoa, too much falsetto”? Or, “I think we need more”?
Eric: Honestly I come from playing folk music. I love Neil Young and Bob Dylan and dig on the Beatles — so when I first started playing music, I was playing acoustic folk soul music. When I got Adrian some tracks, I was living with a roommate and he was saying, “Hey man, I think you’re singing a little bit soft on these songs.” I said, “What do you mean?” And he’s like, “Just go back and listen to Wilson Pickett and Marvin Gaye and Otis Redding,” and when I did that, I was able to kind of integrate the way Marvin Gaye did that head voice, like, “Oooh!” That’s kind of his move. So, I was able to borrow some of the razor-sharp vocal sounds that you hear in these individuals to make some better paints for the canvas that was Adrian’s awesome production.
Adrian, you have a great vocal range to work with. What is that like for you as a producer, knowing you could take these arrangements anywhere?
Adrian: Yeah, I’m a big fan of the falsetto, but I was digging everything he was throwing out. So, when he goes falsetto, I go for it. When it’s not falsetto, unless I feel like it doesn’t work, I just let Eric’s instincts guide him, and what he feels like singing.
What do you remember about the first show you played together?
Eric: It was amazing, right? It was rad.
Adrian: We didn’t even rehearse a lot. We threw it together in a couple of days and we didn’t know what we were getting into. I remember thinking, like, “All right, this should be fun. Worst case scenario, we could drink some liquid courage before the show and have fun. But it completely surpassed my expectations and it was a blast, man. Those early shows we did at C-Boys still live in my memory as some of the best times.
Why did C-Boys seem like a good place to kick this off?
Adrian: It feels like a cool, downhome, neighborhood bar that has amazing music. Steve Wertheimer, who’s the owner, really believed in myself and Eric early on. It’s a competitive town for live music and he’s always been a huge supporter. We just sent him a song and he dug it, and gave us a residency. It was pretty amazing that he took a chance on it. Eric did a solo residency for a while at one of his other venues. He was always a big supporter.
Tell me what you mean when you say that the Austin music scene is competitive.
Adrian: I would say “competitive” in the way that there’s a lot of talented people, but not “competitive” in a way that’s cutthroat, you know what I mean? I feel like there’s a good support system, where everybody’s supportive of people. It’s not competitive in that way. It’s like, you better bring something to the table because there are a lot of people that play and are very talented.
So when this was all happening, were you thinking of a record deal and management and all that? Or was it more about just getting together to play?
Eric: I think we were just both stoked to get on a stage. At that point, we had spent a few months together in the studio. Adrian presented some instrumentals that he was working on, for me to then write songs over. And then I was introducing myself to Adrian through my songwriting and sharing some of the music that I came up with, for him to arrange around. We were having so much fun that we were saying, “Well, we should take this to the stage, just to see what our friends think about it. I don’t think either of us invited too many people to the show, or promoted it, or anything big like that. We were just curious about how it would go over with the people that we know.
Adrian: We just played and we weren’t thinking industry. We were just going to have fun. Originally we thought we would maybe play for a month or two. We didn’t have a big plan other than to play music. We didn’t think that far into the future. We thought, “We’ll do this until it’s not fun.” There wasn’t a detailed, long-term plan for anything. One thing was just leading to another.
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