Tag: trans

Vandoliers’ “10 Years of Peers” Playlist

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

If you ever wondered if your fav alternative country/folk-punk/Americana bands were allies, don’t worry, I’ve played with a ton of them and this list is nothing but top-notch punks, sweethearts, and buddies.

These are the songs I’m listening to as we ride around in a little red van across Europe. All of these artists have supported me and the boys through the grind of being a working band and my transition.

You have to give credit where credit is due – influential bands like Old 97’s, Flogging Molly, Mariachi El Bronx, and Lucero are all amazing groups who took us out on big tours and taught us everything we know. I’m also excited to show off some of our comrades the Bridget City Sinners, Skinny Lister, Katacombs, Mya Byrne, Nate Bergman, and old pals Summer Dean and Silverada. I even snuck some rock bands like Toadies, Bowling for Soup, and Frank Turner in there too, because genre is a construct and all of these artists deserve more airtime! – Jenni Rose, Vandoliers

“Big Brown Eyes” – Old 97’s

Old 97’s took Vandoliers under their wing right when we started. They were our main influence, being from Dallas and all. They gave us our first big festival show, our first tours, introduced us to Bloodshot Records, and helped me through my first sober tour. Thank goodness for the Old 97’s, forever grateful.

“What Are You Willing to Lose” – Lucero

So many doors opened for us after Lucero took us on a West Coast tour in 2019. This band consistently shows up, every song is exactly right, the show is organic and cathartic. Thanks to Lucero, we picked up a traveling fan base that sings every word every night.

“The Ol’ Beggars Bush” – Flogging Molly

On the cover of the first “album” I made in 8th grade is a picture of me in a Flogging Molly shirt. We owe so much to the band. After the pandemic, Flogging Molly took us to another level on two nationwide tours and a cruise. Flogging Molly taught all of us what it looks like to be a forever band who stay true to their roots. Can’t wait for the Salty Dog Cruise in October!!

“7 & 7” – Turnpike Troubadours

Another great band who gave us some big breaks. We opened both nights at Cain’s Ballroom when Turnpike reunited. They even had us open at the Ryman. It’s been awesome to see them sell out stadiums lately.

“I Come From the Water” – Toadies

Toadies have been supporting the band for years. Trey and I have personally been playing with them in the DFW music scene for most of our career. Super tight band, supportive in every way, and some of our oldest friends. They just took us on a five-week tour across the US and it was a blast!

“Ohio (Come Back to Texas)” – Bowling For Soup

As I write this we are driving into the UK; in 2023 Bowling for Soup introduced us to their fans across the pond. It was crazy to play the Hammersmith Apollo in London with them. Thanks BFS, we loved playing “Ohio” every night!

“I Still Believe” – Frank Turner

We met Frank on the Flogging Molly cruise and became fast friends while hanging out singing to all our favorite punk bands. Since then, he has always been a text away when I need advice. We are so excited he invited us to play Lost Evenings in Dallas this September.

“Tragedy in a Minor” – Skinny Lister

Skinny Lister are our folky family out of the UK. We met through the Flogging Molly community. Sitting in that sweet spot between folk and punk, we had such a wonderful tour with them across Europe last year! This song will get stuck in your head!

“Wish I Was” – Nate Bergman

Absolute monster singer-songwriter and a great guy to run around the country with. He is engaging, emotional, tough-yet-vulnerable. Total package. If you don’t know Nate yet, you should.

“Break the Chain” – Bridge City Sinners

My new favorite band and people after this European tour (that I am currently on). Libby and the boys instantly gravitated to us, and vice versa, in Spain at the Azkena Rock Festival. Their show is absolutely insane! Folk/punk/metal, I’m in.

“Old Fashioned” – Katacombs

Kat is opening for us in the UK and she is such a powerhouse, even if she doesn’t know it yet. I love her voice, her lyrical choices are perfect, and her musical talent is other worldly. Also a bonus is that she is one of the kindest people I have ever met.

“Revolution Girls” – Mariachi El Bronx

We travelled with the Bronx and Mariachi El Bronx in 2023 and 2024. Incredible humans and undeniably talented and the shows were always wild.

“Dance With Barbara” – Silverada

Our favorite road dogs, Silverada! We have been playing clubs, theaters, and festivals with these boys for a decade. They are some of our best friends and we can’t wait for our run in December! This song makes me dance every time.

“You Ain’t Gotta Die (To Be Dead to Me)” – Kaitlin Butts

She saw right through me from day one! She has always been one of my favorite gals in the Texas scene. Fun fact: I’m wearing Kaitlin’s jacket in the “You Can’t Party With the Lights On” video.

“Neon Cross” – Jaime Wyatt

What an absolute icon. It’s been amazing to watch her grow and glow around this scene over the years. I am constantly in awe of her. She has been such a great person in my corner since coming out, too. This song hit me right between her eyes when it came out. Love ya, Jaime!

“Yes Ma’am, He Found Me in a Honky Tonk” – Summer Dean

Summer Dean shared our van for a couple of dates on an acoustic run. She is a real deal cowgirl and one of my all-time favorite people in this industry. She can do it all. Merch, marketing, socials, drive the van, write a hit, and put on an amazing show. I admire her so much. We had fun playing with her again on the outlaw cruise this past spring.

“Devil In My Ear” – Mya Byrne

She opened for us right before I came out to my band. I loved the Rhinestone Tomboy record so much and I didn’t know how badly I needed to be around a trans person before I came out. Mya has been an amazing friend to me over the last two years and “Devil in My Ear” is a banger.

Photo Credit: Andree Brown

BGS 5+5: Creekbed Carter Hogan

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Artist: Creekbed Carter Hogan
Hometown: I live in Saint Paul, Minnesota, but before that I spent most of my life living in Austin, Texas. I wasn’t born and raised in either, but they are the places that have shaped me the most and I think that counts for something.
Latest Album: PEASANTS REVOLT! (out July 24 2026)
Personal Nicknames (or rejected band names): Creekbed, Creeky, Peepaw Creekbed

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

Like a Catholic cliché, my life has been changed forever by two women named Mary.

The first artist is Mary Chapin Carpenter. Watching your mom sing along to “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her” with her eyes closed while she presses folded laundry to her chest, both wistful and hopeless… that does something to a person. In a family so Catholic, so conservative, so isolated – not just because of rurality, but also because of my difficult, isolationist father – Mary Chapin Carpenter was one of the few non-Christian rock-related musicians that scored my childhood, and her ferocious form of empathic songwriting has never left me.

The second Mary is Mary Gauthier. I remember the intersection I was stopped at in Austin, late at night, my now-girlfriend putting her on the aux. The first lines of “Slip of the Tongue” hit me like a gut punch: “Honey sit down, I got something to say/ Last night I drowned. I got carried away.” I remember gripping my girlfriend’s hand, crying and laughing and brimming with new, terrifying love as I listened for the first time to one of the few publicly queer Americana artists to really break through. Mary Gauthier made my life as a trans country artist possible. Nobody can see through to the soul of something like she can. It was an honor to release my cover of “Slip of the Tongue” this year, and it’ll be an honor for the rest of my life to know that my songs are in a lineage that includes her.

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

Man, I just really love art a lot. I’ll watch anything, read anything, listen to anything. I don’t think you need any special schooling or whatever to look at something bold and wrestle with how it makes you feel – you just need a lot of curiosity.

I’m putting out a new record in July called PEASANTS REVOLT! and in my liner notes I credit two books as inspirations: Fernando A. Flores’s Texan magical realist novel Brother Brontë and Julius S. Scott’s The Common Wind, a beautifully rendered examination of how word-of-mouth led to the Haitian Revolution, the most successful slave revolt in all of human history. Those two books gave as much to my new album as Hazel Dickens, Bobbie Gentry, Tracy Chapman, and ANOHNI did.

So did a whole library! The East Side Freedom Library in Saint Paul, which makes formerly private collections of union organizers, activists, thinkers, and artists available to the public. The Twin Cities United Performers, a musicians’ power org I’m a member of, helps me explore the art of organizing with fellow musicians for better conditions. Picket lines are an art form, and I remain inspired every day by the people who hold them. And my songs would probably sound completely different if I weren’t spending so much of my time watching movies like John Sayles’s Matewan and Cheryl Dunye’s Watermelon Woman and Abbas Kiarostami’s Close-Up.

Before I could leave my small rural community, art was a way of exploring the world. Now that I can live on my own terms, art is a way of understanding the world. As an artist, why wouldn’t I try as many forms of understanding as possible?

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

This is a long answer, but it’s a story worth telling:

This past winter, as ICE invaded the Twin Cities and abducted and killed our neighbors in our streets, I received a grant from the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis to write new labor and union songs. It was a jarring juxtaposition: how could I justify research and writing songs in my room when I needed to be out on the streets with a whistle in my hand, standing my ground with my neighbors against the federal government? But the truth is, I’d already cashed half the money and it had been a lean winter, so I had to make something to show for it. I went to the East Side Freedom Library, did a boatload of research, and then I wrote songs about regular Minnesotans who’d fought the government for dignity for all. From the 1910s miners of the Mesabi Iron Range to the Indigenous founders of the American Indian Movement in the ’70s to the Willmar 8 who held a two-year picket line every single day in every single kind of weather to an Appalachian-styled ballad that tied in the history of labor resistance to what we were all doing now to protect one another, as our own mayor and governor left us in the ice and the snow to fend for ourselves.

On February 20, I took the stage at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis with a four-piece bluegrass band and presented my grant work to 250 Minnesotans. I was terrified that what I’d written hadn’t done enough justice to this incredible place that had taken me in, given me lifesaving healthcare, and taught me new things about what it means to show up for your community – and even more worried that my performance wouldn’t be good enough to raise rent money for my neighbors who were trapped in their apartments, hiding from ICE. But when I started playing these songs, the reception filled me with awe. All 250 of these people sang with me, clapped with me, cried with me, felt pain and joy and despair and hope together, out loud, with me. After the set, we got a standing ovation – and then at the merch table, the line went out the door as neighbor after neighbor came up to me to tell me about the picket lines they were holding or had held, the Minnesotans they’d recognized in my lyrics, the pain they felt and the hope that sat right beside that pain that they could now feel because of what we’d just sung together.

I’ve played a lot of incredible shows to incredible audiences, many of them much bigger and “much bigger deals.” But that show on February 20 this year was the single most important performance of my life. It meant everything to me. And it taught me, again, why I’m still here, writing songs, doing something every single day to take my place in a lineage of resistance and make a new, better world for all of us.

If you didn’t work in music, what would you do instead?

Way before I wanted to be a musician, I wanted to be a nun. The nuns I’ve known work really hard for the liberation of all people, even from within the confines of a restrictive, colonialist, organized religion. The Sisters of the Holy Names were the ones who first taught me about protesting at the School of the Americas, for example, and the Catholic Workers movement introduced liberation theology to me,and taught me about fighting for a dignified life for every living thing. I’m not a Catholic anymore – Catholicism remains closed to me as a trans person – but then again, secular convents existed in medieval Europe for people who didn’t want to convert to Catholicism, but still wanted to live in community. So maybe being a secular, liberationalist nun is still an option?

What would a perfect day as an artist and a creator look like to you?

I would wake up and every single person in the United States would have universal basic income, healthcare that serves all of our needs, and the knowledge that our taxes are funding public services instead of wars and genocides and detention centers. I’d get up to eat vegetables from our garden and groceries I could afford, in a house I share with my friends that isn’t owned by a landlord or a bank, in a neighborhood where everyone has the housing they need. I’d pick up my guitar and head out the door to a park or a third space where other people would be playing music, sharing skills, and enjoying rest for free without fear of the cops or some arbitrary law that regulates who gets to rest where. And we’d all get to that space on free public transportation that runs well and doesn’t contribute to climate change.

We’d sing and play in the heart of a food forest and then we’d take a break to swim in water that’s clean in a park we all care for. I’d go to the library and read a book about moss or something, just because it sounds interesting, while people around me use public resources to sew quilts or study or listen to CDs, our phones nowhere in sight. In the evening, I’d go to a show with my girlfriend at a venue that receives funding from the government so they don’t have to rely on alcohol sales to make their business work, and I’d happily pay money that I know goes entirely to the bands playing that night. I’d dance and dance and dance, surrounded by all kinds of people who all have the basic things they need to thrive in the bodies they have, whose bodies are no longer regulated or targeted for state violence or kept out because of a disregard for accessibility. The bands would be shit hot, because they’d know they were making a living wage and that no one was gonna come into the venue to gun us all down.

And when I’d leave the venue with my girlfriend to get on our bikes and go home to sleep, the night air would feel clean. There’d be no wildfire smoke in the air. The stars would be out, and I’d be able to see them all. I’d pass neighbor after neighbor, grinning, happy to go home to a safe place, knowing that Palestine was free and Cuba was free and Puerto Rico was free and that “Land Back” had supplanted capitalism as our guiding principle and that every worker was treated fairly. And while nothing would be perfect, because there’s always work to be done, things would feel possible. Hope would feel tenable. Every living creature would feel valued. That would be one hell of a day, I think.

Photo Credit: Emily April Allen

River Shook Is as Disarming As Ever

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

After more than a decade fronting various alt-country bands – most notably the Disarmers – River Shook is now breaking out on their own.

The new chapter officially launched June 26 with the release of Shook’s self-titled debut. It’s stripped back instrumentally, but still features the same blunt songwriting and gritty vocals that longtime fans of the singer have come to know and love. As such, its 10 songs take listeners on a rollercoaster of emotions balancing equal parts sorrow and joy, ultimately reminding that we’re all stronger than we give ourselves credit for.

“This album is extremely dichotomous,” says Shook. “One constant is a theme of being able to hold two very contrasting emotions at the same time, which can be hard for many people and takes a level of self-awareness that I think we should all aspire to.”

Bringing the record to life was Shook’s bandmate and life partner, Blake Tallent, and together they produced the project inside their North Carolina home. That decision came after unsuccessfully shopping demos to record labels, then leaning on the guidance of friend and esteemed producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee, Mavis Staples), who stressed to them the need to build everything around the vocals.

“When he said that, my brain immediately went back to the times where we’ve made Disarmers records where I felt like vocally I was competing with the band and had to force my singing overtop of everything else,” explains Shook. “But with this album we wanted to figure out the vocals and build everything else around them. When we started recording we acted as if it was a demo, just me with an acoustic guitar, a mic and a click track in my ears. There’s still the rock ‘n’ roll people know me for, but it’s a lot more nuanced because we really wanted to make the vocals the North Star of this project. When I listen back to it now, I’m amazed at how natural my voice sounds – there’s no straining to break through the noise like before.”

Ahead of the album’s release, Shook caught up with Good Country to talk about disbanding the Disarmers, recording the new project exclusively at home with Tallent, why they opt to be so up front with pain in their songwriting, and more.

When did you first start planning for this solo project, and why was it important for you to effectively “kill off” the Disarmers before doing so?

River Shook: The Disarmers were together for about 10 years, but the last couple years of it we were dealing with the situation where we had all of these tours booked and my guitarist at the time, Eric Peterson, had to take a leave of absence because he was having some arm issues that were preventing him from being able to play. That started this weird cycle of having to bring in sub musicians and soon after everything fell apart. Our bassist ended up leaving followed by our drummer, leaving us in this mode of band-aid fixes since we had so many shows already on the books. We were so busy that we didn’t have time to even really be intentional about who we were bringing in, it was just a matter of “can they play the instrument well and are they available?” – there wasn’t any time to reflect.

I was also getting really burned out, and on top of that I’m a very introverted person, so it was really hard for me to get used to new people. Couple that with the fact that sometimes we would have people in the band that we just weren’t meshing with made it start to feel weird. I was constantly trying to hold together this thing that was determined to fall apart. Then in December of 2024 my other longest-running band member, Jack Foster – who had drummed with me for three or four years at that point – called me shortly after Thanksgiving and told me he could no longer commit to the band. Instead of the knee-jerk reaction that we’d all been having every time a band member left, I just decided to let go and move on. It wound up being a massive weight off my shoulders.

At the same time, I knew I [was] not quitting music, because it’s such a huge part of who I am, I just realized it was time for that chapter to come to a close. Immediately I began thinking about what’s next, not in a hectic or frantic way, but in a way that felt extremely liberating and inspiring. [I was] immediately inspired – like, I can take this wherever I want to.

You talking about feeling liberated has me thinking of the album’s opening track “Free At Last.” Was that your way of declaring you’ve broken free of what has weighed you down?

That’s absolutely what it felt like. That song is actually a reference to sort of a parallel storyline that was occurring at the time. I had to cut my parents off for a while, which is very hard to write a song about. Most people can’t relate to that, but I felt like if I can write this song about a divorce, that is something that so many people can understand. That – coupled with the fact that the Disarmers ending was very much a divorce in its own way – made this a song that I wanted to use to remind people that getting out of your shit is really hard to do. However, the freedom to do and pursue what we want on the other side is absolutely worth going through that heartache.

Speaking of your parents, you also sing about your up-and-down relationship with them on the record’s closing track, “Loving Me Is Like Rolling A Big Old Rock.” What was it like rehashing some of those memories and examining how your relationship has evolved with them over time?

I was working through a lot of stuff with all the songs on this record and trying to be more honest with myself about my childhood and my teen years, which were rough. I know my parents meant well and were coming from a good place, but it was a very controlling and authoritarian household where I experienced a lot of religious and gender-based trauma. In their minds I was born a girl, so I was only supposed to exist to be a wife, mother, and housekeeper. They’ve since come a long way with their beliefs and don’t think like that anymore, which I’m grateful for, but the damage had already been done.

More recently I was at a point where I [was] grappling with all this stuff as an adult and going to therapy to try to come to terms with it all. Therapy is a great tool, but it can only get you so far. There’s so much work that you have to do yourself and that’s part of what writing this record was, it was me therapizing myself. It was me having very honest and frank discussions with myself about what happened and what I need to do to have a healthier perspective of all of the bad things that I’ve dealt with.

So “Loving Me Is Like Rolling A Big Old Rock” is supposed to feel kind of mischievous and fun because it is touching on such heavy topics that unfortunately I think a lot of people can relate to. When most people become parents for the first time they’re not prepared, because their parents weren’t prepared to be parents either – it’s a tale as old as time.

You and your partner Blake Tallent produced this album yourselves inside your home studio in North Carolina. What led to that approach, and is it something you’d ever done before?

The first four Disarmers records were studio albums, but with my side project, Mightmare featured the only other record that I’ve made at home, although that was a completely different situation. That entire record was me, a MacBook with GarageBand, and a Scarlett Focusrite [interface] – it was very DIY. When I wrapped up the Disarmers, I had demos that our manager was shopping around. We were getting some interest but nothing more, and it got to a point where the timeline that I had with our touring schedule required that we release this in spring of 2026. That’s when we started making the record at home between just the two of us.

Blake is a killer multi-instrumentalist, so much so that it blows my mind. He lived in Nashville for a long time and still has a house on the east side. When he lived there he was producing records, playing instruments, and even mixing – he’s a fucking weapon! Our original goal with this record was to have a whole band on it and to capture it at Sonic Ranch, since that place has been on my bucket list for several years. When the things that you want don’t work out, you can get lost in the defeat and your emotions or you can notice it as an opportunity to do something else, and that’s how we chose to approach it. I’m so grateful that [Blake] was fully on board.

The Disarmers had a couple fly-out dates at the end of June 2025 and by July 1 we were hunkered down in the house and started making the record using Pro Tools. Blake taught me the basics of Pro Tools so that while he’s playing drums or bass, I can be running the session and he doesn’t have to multitask. It was also nice not running into that “too many cooks in the kitchen” issue, because both of our creative visions were 100% aligned. I can’t think of a single disagreement we had in the studio, which simply does not happen. Having a creative partner who’s also your life partner and being in alignment together on a project of this magnitude was incredible, and I think because of that our synchronicity really shines through on this record. It sounds very cohesive without any kind of dissonance or struggle.

How long has Blake been playing with you?

He joined the band as a sub in June of 2022, then we were seeing each other by August and fell in love on our first European tour together, completely unexpectedly. The story of how we met is told in “Running to Georgia.” It was a combination of crazy coincidences and planets aligning for us to have even met in the first place.

That’s funny, because the first time I listened to that song I assumed it was about you trying to get away from someone. How exactly did y’all find each other?

The Disarmers were playing the El Rocko Lounge in Savannah in October of 2021. When I walked in the venue I saw him across the room and immediately thought, “That’s my person!” It wasn’t like it was love at first sight or a sexual thing, it was just this acknowledgment and recognition. Then he walked over to me and held his hand out and said, “Hey, I’m your sound tech” and I was so embarrassed. [Laughs] I thought I’d made a terrible mistake, but then I ended up going out to a bar after the show to meet another friend who happened to be in town on tour and Blake was there. We wound up having this great night of hanging out with friends and talking, but the next day I was so depressed because I thought I’m never gonna see this person again.

Then a few months later we needed a guitar sub and my manager emailed me out of nowhere saying there’s this guy named Blake Tallent who knows all the songs and is available for all the dates, and my jaw hit the floor. It was destiny.

That’s lovely. I’m so glad you found your person!

The next song I wanted to ask you about is “Wildlands,” which was your first single as a solo artist but isn’t included on this album. Why is that?

“Wildlands” was a separate thing. When we made the record, the only instruments that Blake didn’t play were banjo and pedal steel. But immediately after we made it, he got a pedal steel and stated that he wanted to do it himself next time – which he did when we eventually recorded this song. At the time we were talking with a label and everyone involved was 99% certain that we were going to sign with them, but it ended up being an absolute fiasco. Initially we planned for the song to be a single leading up to the album singles, but when this label deal fell through I realized we had no option other than to self-release unless we wanted to move the album to the fall. At that point I’d already put a band together and promised people jobs so that wasn’t going to happen, but I still really wanted to get the song out since I knew fans were hungry to hear what this new project is gonna feel and sound like.

In that sense it was like revenge putting this out. I didn’t know if we were going to find another label or distribution partner – or what-the fuck-ever – but [“Wildlands” was] going to be a standalone thing, which I think was very symbolic. In the end, that single is 100% independent – I own the masters, the publishing, and the songwriting. We were very fortunate to find a distribution partner for the record, but I think that song is really special and has its own thing going on.

In lieu of not landing a record deal you released the album under your own imprint, Blackberry River. Mind telling me about the origins of its name?

I’ve been working on a memoir … When you’re having to really rethink your childhood and the things that occupied your time– one big thing for me was summer, because winters in Western New York are absolutely brutal. It’s like six months of winter and gray sky, so spring and summer have always been my favorite seasons. My favorite thing about summer was our backyard, which was pretty big and had these amazing blackberry bushes that my older sister and I would go out to with baskets to fill up while also eating them right off the bush. The wild nature of blackberries – not as a thing that’s an agricultural commodity, but something that is just literally wild and free – is something I relate to so deeply. So Blackberry River is just a nod to my 8-, 10-year-old self that was barefoot running through the yard with purple blackberry hands. [Laughs]

What has bringing this record to life taught you about yourself?

I learned that less is more sometimes and that I can be a very hyper-focused type of person, which sometimes means I need to step back and take in the bigger picture. I’m just now developing the ability to step back and see things more as a whole than as individual parts. Doing that gave me a lot more perspective on how to make this album really shine.

Photo Credit: Jillian Clark

The Other 22 Hours: Heather Mae

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

We often look at an artist’s career through the lens of industry accolades: the tours, the streaming numbers, the awards. But what happens when you intentionally dismantle your creative ego to build something focused entirely on collective liberation? Heather Mae is an award-winning independent artist, the founder of Singing Resistance Nashville, and a prominent voice in organized musical activism. Following a viral arrest at the Tennessee State Capitol while protesting anti-trans legislation, Heather sits down with The Other 22 Hours to discuss the profound impacts of communal singing, navigating trauma as a neurodivergent and queer creator, and how to balance radical empathy without completely burning out. It’s an expansive, deeply human conversation about moving past the modern traps of artistic productivity to discover what it truly means to be of service.

LISTEN: APPLE • SPOTIFY • AMAZON • MP3

In This Episode:

– Heather Mae
– Ysaye Barnwell
– Sweet Honey in the Rock
– The Song School (Planet Bluegrass)
– National Organization for Women
– Singing Resistance Nashville
– Tennessee Equality Project
– Melody Walker
– Justin Jones
– Gloria Johnson
– WMOT
– “Just More Love”
– Alex Pretti
– Folk Alliance
– Crys Matthews
– Etta James
– MusiCares
– Music Health Alliance
– Carl Jung
– Ep 97 – Fancy Hagood

Go Deeper: 

Watch: View this entire conversation above or on YouTube.
Explore: Find similar conversations in these themed playlists.
Connect: Join the conversation on Instagram.

The Other 22 Hours is hosted by Aaron Shafer-Haiss (producer, mixer, musician) and Michaela Anne (songwriter, artist, creative coach). More about Aaron’s work. More about Michaela Anne’s work.

Produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss. Original music written, performed and produced by Aaron Shafer-Haiss.

Photo Credit: Laura Schneider

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Sweet Petunia, Big Richard, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Your weekly dose of new music is here! You Gotta Hear This.

We’ve got a couple of brand new music videos, leading off with Big Richard absolutely smashing a David Olney song, “Millionaire.” To say the track is apropos for this moment in time would be a laughable understatement. The string band/bluegrass supergroup give it their signature impassioned treatment, with energy, conviction, and musicality. Their new music video for the just-released single was shot in and around Salt Lake City. Plus, Boston-based alt-folk duo Sweet Petunia bring us a new music video, as well. Their new, stark indie folk track “Grub” is set to a delightful animated, stop-motion, hand-drawn music video. The song explores identity, embodiment, beauty, and pain, and holds space for solidarity for trans and gender-nonconforming folks.

You’ll also find a music video for Michael Haney’s new cover of a Bruce Springsteen song, “Brilliant Disguise,” rich in Americana rock ‘n’ roll. Haney knew he wanted to record the number because of how it “speaks directly to the heart of the human condition.” Singer-songwriter Kirby Lyle picks up the same mantle on the title track for his brand new EP, Change Is Hard. It’s also a song of solidarity and community, because who is going to save us if we don’t save us? But we are going to save us.

It’s a lovely collection of tracks this week highlighting community, togetherness, and how roots music is built upon both. We hope you enjoy, cause we think You Gotta Hear This!

Big Richard, “Millionaire”

Artist: Big Richard
Hometown: Denver, Colorado
Song: “Millionaire”
Album: Pet
Release Date: January 13, 2026 (single); February 6, 2026 (album)
Label: Signature Sounds

In Their Words: “‘Millionaire’ is a song about the greed and corruption of the rich written by David Olney, originally released in 1991. It is still wildly topical nearly 35 years later, although it might be time to change ‘millionaire’ to ‘billionaire’ at this point.

“We added this song to our setlist just after the inauguration last year and it has become one of the most emotionally charged moments in our sets. For us, this song is a unifying message, because regardless of which side of the line you voted on, we are all on the same side in the great class war. All of us are at the mercy of a very few, who only have their own best interests in mind, and who would never dismantle the systems that hold them in their places of power. It’s up to us to join with our neighbors and tear it down, from the joke that is the insurance industry to the politicians that are openly bought and controlled by corporations.

“We filmed the music video in Salt Lake City, where local fans will recognize many of the landmarks, which include the state capitol building, the offices of the LDS (who currently own more real estate than any other entity in the world), and the fuel refineries that choke the air of that beautiful city.

“We sing this old song with a lot of hope in dark days like these. Our species is brilliant, and more than capable of solving the problems that we have, if we would put the money in the right pockets and put limits on the folks that choose to hoard it.” – Dr. Joy Adams

Video Credit: Wonderstone Films

Michael Haney, “Brilliant Disguise”

Artist: Michael Haney
Hometown: Originally from Columbia, South Carolina; now living in Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Brilliant Disguise”
Release Date: January 23, 2026
Label: Rock Ridge Music

In Their Words: “I chose to record ‘Brilliant Disguise’ by Bruce Springsteen as an up-tempo rock version, because I’ve always been drawn to the tension and truth in that song. It’s one of his most well-known pieces from a transitional period in his life, and I think it speaks directly to the heart of the human condition — that universal experience of hiding parts of ourselves, even from those we love most. The more you sit with it, the more you realize the song captures something even deeper: how often we don’t truly know who we are in the first place. We walk through life trying to piece together our identities, yet we still build masks on top of that uncertainty — sometimes to protect ourselves, sometimes because we’re afraid of being seen, and sometimes for reasons we don’t fully understand.

“I liked the idea of doing late-’80s Springsteen as if mid-to-late-’70s Springsteen had taken it on, with that raw, energetic edge that defined his early sound. Reimagining it that way let me lean into the emotional conflict at the center of the song — the push and pull between authenticity and self-deception — while giving it the kind of drive that felt truer to my own voice. It’s not a song that’s been covered often, which made it feel like the perfect addition to my catalog: both as a tribute to his songwriting and as a reflection of where I am personally right now, navigating my own questions about identity, honesty, and the parts of ourselves we choose — or struggle — to reveal.” – Michael Haney

Track Credits:
Michael Haney – Vocals
Ben Jackson – Drums, percussion, keys, Hammond B3 organ
Luis Espaillat – Bass
Brian Fechino – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar
Brad Sample – Electric guitar
Kaleb Thomas Jones – BGVs

Kirby Lyle, “Change Is Hard”

Artist: Kirby Lyle
Hometown: Nashville, Tennessee
Song: “Change Is Hard”
Album: Change Is Hard (EP)
Release Date: January 16, 2026

In Their Words: “‘Who’s gonna save us if we don’t save us?’ That’s the line. We are. Us. You and me. Right here in the moment. Every time I play ‘Change Is Hard,’ my soul activates! I’m so full of gratitude that the heart has an infinite capacity when it’s shared, because I can’t express this feeling alone. The music commands a full choir and joyful ruckus of players to lift it up to megaphone level. When the audience engages, our positive energy is ubiquitous! The hope is simple: inspiration toward progress – personal and societal. It’s on us. Be moved. Get better. Make each other better. Together.” – Kirby Lyle

Track Credits:
Kirby Lyle – Lead vocals, guitar, auxiliary percussion, songwriter, background vocals
Kyle Tuttle – Banjo
Keyboard – Jacob Merlin
Erika Nalow – Saxophones
Jordan Perlson – Drums
Background Vocalists: Maya de Vitry, Kyle Tuttle, Ethan Jodziewicz, Anthony Saddic, Brenna, Dana Baker, Emory Major, Noelle McFarland, Rachel Isabella, Sean Donovan, Kimberly Albertson, Laura Stack

Sweet Petunia, “Grub”

Artist: Sweet Petunia
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “Grub”
Album: Foggy Mountain Mental Breakdown
Release Date: January 13, 2026 (single); March 13, 2026 (album)
Label: Righteous Babe

In Their Words: “‘Grub’ is a song about my experience of being trans and the beauty and the pain that come with it. The song came to me almost completely at once. Most of the first verse came out in one fell swoop as you hear it today, but the second verse was inspired by a video of beautiful baby birds crowded into a small nest. I was so jealous of how close and happy they looked — a perfect opposite to reflect the isolation and sense of otherness that I explore in the first half of the song. Maddy and I then spent two hours just playing it over and over and over again until we finally found the perfect duet of banjo and vocals to support the song.

“I feel so lucky to have been able to share this song with so many other trans people through years of performing it live and hear how they connect to it within the context of their own experiences. It feels particularly special to be putting ‘Grub’ out in a time where our rights and lives as trans people are being put in harm’s way in a much more visible way than in the past few years.” – Mairead Guy

Video Credit: Riley Halliday

Photo Credit: Sweet Petunia by JJ Gonson; Big Richard by Rett Rogers.

Vandoliers Find Liberation
in Life Behind Bars

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Vandoliers are doing their part to keep the spirit of alt-country alive with their raucous blend of punk, country, and mariachi. In other words, they’re the quintessential Texas dive bar band.

They’ve long been outspoken supporters of the queer community, going viral for protesting the Tennessee Drag Band by performing in dresses as a protest; that was when lead singer Jenni Rose realized that she may be a member of the LGBTQIA+ community herself. And so, the band’s fifth and newest album, Life Behind Bars (released June 27), finds the Vandoliers exploring the wild desert landscape of the heart: sobriety, grief, gender dysphoria — and joy in liberation.

Good Country spoke with group members Rose and multi-instrumentalist Cory Graves in early June about collaborating as a six-piece band, working with producer Ted Hutt to push the band to ever-more lyrical honesty and musical proficiency, and the profound impact Jenni’s sobriety and coming out has had on the band.

The album’s title track, “Life Behind Bars,” deals in part with frustrations of life on the road – but Vandoliers are known for bringing the party. How do you balance these two realities?

Jenni Rose: I couldn’t be a lead singer of this band unless I got sober. I tried really hard to be the party person and be the lead singer and be able to do this hundreds of times a year. I just couldn’t do everything. Put the party down for a little bit, and that brought up so much in my life. It made the shows exponentially better. It made me a better singer. On this record, you’re really hearing me processing this new identity, this new life unfolding. It starts with the question, “Why can’t I get sober?” and then it’s like – “Oh my God, I’m in the wrong body.”

I was dealing with a lot. Cory was dealing with a lot, the whole band was dealing with a lot. We have made four records of us asking, “Where am I at in my life? What am I going through?” We’ve been able to conquer the humorous and the serious, so we weren’t really out of our comfort zone by talking about big feelings, but they’re in this album for sure.

The song has four co-writers: you two, Joshua Ray Walker, and John Pedigo – Texas royalty for sure. While it’s common for pop country songs to have many writers, it’s a bit unusual in the Americana world. How did you all even find yourselves in one place together?

JR: Josh Walker and I are really close. I was with him a lot during his cancer diagnosis. We were catching up and we were about to go to Sonic Ranch to record. I suggested we just go write a song and call up John, who used to produce our records. He pretty much has a co-write on every Vandoliers record except for the last one. We love writing together.

Josh Walker brought up the frustrations with touring and we were talking about how we can keep doing it. Then we thought, “Let’s say we didn’t do it. What else are we gonna do? What kind of jobs are hiring 40-year-olds for entry-level positions?” Cory and Josh had been talking about this line “life behind bars” as a double entendre for years. We all related to it and everybody just started throwing out lines. And then by the end of it, we were all screaming the hook and we had a song.

When you began working with producer, Ted Hutt, he said your songs were “superficial” and pushed you to go deeper. How was it to hear that feedback?

JR: It was wonderful. That conversation was like a year before we got to the studio. So I came in with like 40 tunes. Cory came in with like six or seven. Ted really took the time to listen to our writing and pick the songs that were right for the record. He pushed me so hard with my lyric writing and my vocal performance.

I was writing and rewriting things, clarifying, digging deeper into what I was trying to say and that opened me up to a lot of emotions. I knew I was gonna hit gender dysphoria, but I didn’t know I was gonna hit it there. Then [the] Pandora’s Box was completely opened.

Cory Graves: We’ve always craved a producer that would come in and be like a seventh voice in the room, like a tiebreaker voice or someone who could come in with other ideas. We’ve gotten that a little bit here and there in the past, but never as much as I think some of us wanted. He was heavy-handed, like suggesting we change a song from a punk song to a country song or changing the key.

We all knew that we wanted that. Going in, we all agreed that if Ted wanted to try something, everyone would just be happy about it and try it. That’s exactly what happened. It always worked out for the better.

What lessons do you think you’ll bring with you from this process?

JR: I’m already better at being fully vulnerable when I write. Life Behind Bars is me opening up, whereas some of my writing right now is pretty brutal. I’m excited about moving forward being fully aware and shameless in my writing now.

The band itself is so collaborative, by nature of the kinds of sounds you make. How does the band work together?

CG: We all have so many different influences. None of the songs ended up sounding like the demos. They ended up sounding like a piece of everyone. My song, “Thoughts and Prayers,” was more of a punk song, but ended up as a rockabilly song. “Life Behind Bars” started as an emo song while “Bible Belt” was kind of like a Green Day song. Now it’s like The Cars meets, like – I don’t know. So many different things. There’s a twang to it, but also ’80s rock, because Dustin [Fleming], our guitar player, was in a Cars cover band. So he’s got that in his blood.

There are different things that we each bring out from our past into the tunes.

Jenni, it sounds like for a while you isolated yourself socially from the band a bit. How do you both feel things have changed since you’ve come out?

JR: When I was trying to quit drinking, I changed all of my habits just to make sure that I could. It would have jeopardized my career if I kept going the way that I was going. I didn’t wanna do that, ’cause it’s not just my career, it’s everybody’s career. So I started going to the gym after the shows and then journaling during the day, having a ten-minute free write, word-vomit of poetry that I would send to Ted. I would do this every day and that would take me three hours – most of the van ride. So I’d be in my headphones, dead silent with everybody, and I was cocooning. I was going through a lot and I was trying to heal while in motion.

So everybody got to live with a hermit, essentially, for three years. I know it wasn’t cool, but I had to do it. I’m writing these songs. I’m reading every fucking self-help book I can possibly grab to figure out why I’m an addict. The dysphoria is starting to pick up and ramp up, because I’m starting to understand my emotions instead of dull them and ignore them. I am becoming more in tune with my body at the gym and noticing the dysphoria there and starting to understand myself better and better and better. While all of this is happening, I’m on fucking tour all over the world with six other people.

They’re watching somebody change the way that they eat. They’re watching somebody change what they do during the day. They’re watching my social life become pretty much non-existent. … Everybody becomes [at] arm’s-length on the road for a couple years. And then at a Taco Bell, I tell everybody I’m a trans girl and it’s like I’m right back to the party, I can like hang out again, I can go out after the show, or I can skip the gym. … I’m existing as my highest self after years of searching.

It sounds like your coming out has been a fairly positive experience so far.

JR: I saw immediately how quickly my relationships have been healing since coming out. Each person I told – before coming out publicly – it was great. Now I just get to be in a band with my friends again and they get to know me fully without me being scared of rejection.

I can’t manipulate anybody into accepting me. I can’t control how they feel about me. There’s nothing I can say that would make them either love me or not love me. You just kind of get to figure out who’s with you or not. I am so blessed that the people that are around me are at such a high quality. I think it’s a testament to just my exquisite taste in humans. I’ve been so blessed.

Everybody around me loves me and wants me to keep going and wants to keep being in my life, which is not what I thought that they would do. I assumed that I would be abandoned by everybody, because that’s the narrative that we’re all used to, but it’s been really beautiful. I’m really glad I did it.

Your coming out process has been very public. Your band went viral for protesting the Tennessee drag ban the day it was passed by wearing dresses on stage. And now, you’ve come out in Rolling Stone. So, how are you doing?

JR: Wearing the dresses was Cory’s idea. I have worn so many dresses behind closed doors. No one knew this side of me. When we went shopping for dresses, we all were having fun. When I put it on I was so nervous, but I was also really comfortable. And then we went out and played and I twirled. I had a great time. I thought only like 80 people were gonna see this, that I’d wear a dress for this one show and that would be it. Then everybody saw it.

That was kind of when I realized I had this aspect of me. It was the first time anybody had seen it and everybody kind of saw it at once. It made me wanna drink again, ’cause I didn’t want this to keep multiplying because I was scared. It wasn’t the first time I’d worn a dress and I knew that that wasn’t the first time that I felt comfortable doing so. I didn’t know if I wanted to accept that, or think that it was anything more than a kink or whatever. But I was sober and I did have to deal with it, and I did have to talk about it with my family and my wife.

If anybody’s reading this and they’re questioning if they should come out, you should. It’s good for you.

What are you each most excited about getting the album out in the world and touring it?

CG: I’m excited that people are gonna hear a little bit of a different side of us and to see what they think of it. I think more people are gonna be aware of us than ever, and I’m excited to see how people react to that.

Also, I’ve been doing music for, I don’t know, 20-something years. I’m 41 years old. I’ve never sung a lead vocal on any record in my entire life. I’m just excited for that [“Thoughts and Prayers”] to be in the world. That’s a big accomplishment for me, personally.

JR: I’m glad you sang it. You sang it much better than I was singing it!

I am most excited to be seen as 100% me on the road and to see what that does. So far, it’s been really magical. I think it’s been really positive. As I’m out and I’m playing, these bars or venues or theaters or little music series or festivals, they’re gonna see a trans person in a band, maybe at a country festival, maybe in a small town, maybe at a place that they wouldn’t usually see a queer person, and they’re gonna have to figure out how they feel about that.

I think the thing that I’m most excited about is posing that question to people and giving them a chance to react. I have faith in our fans, but I also have faith in our country, too. I don’t think hate has as much of a stronghold as we might think. It’s there for sure, but I think there’s a lot of love too.

Photo Credit: Vincent Monsaint

Out Now: Morgan Harris

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Our next artist on Out Now is Morgan Harris, solo artist, old-time guitarist, and member of the Tall Poppy String Band (with Cameron DeWhitt and George Jackson). Her new solo album, Alone Will Tell, is a reflective work featuring twelve tracks.

Harris reinvents this collection of traditional tunes with a stark, raw, emotive sound. Traditional music toes a line between preserving the sounds (and sometimes the values) of the past while embracing the innovations of the future. In our interview, we talk with Harris about that central conflict in traditional music, where many individuals feel the need to “uphold tradition” – which often can be used as justification for discrimination.

This is Harris’ first release as a transgender musician. Alone Will Tell honors traditional music while illustrating innovation and transformation. We are proud to feature Morgan Harris on Out Now.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

I don’t know if there’s a reason I make music, other than “I like it” – it’s both as simple and as enormously complicated as that implies. I guess it’s the process that I find most satisfying, by which I mean the parts where I’m actively learning, creating, and collaborating. I’m not very good at sitting back and appreciating what I’ve created (though I’m trying to get better at that). Even as the process can be frustrating and confusing at times, and it can be tempting to think, “I’ll be satisfied if I can just finish this project,” I try to remind myself that the act of making is what I’m in it for. That’s where I ultimately find the most meaning.

You play in a trio as well, Tall Poppy String Band. How does it feel to release this album as a solo act? How does the intimacy of your solo work differ from the collaborative energy of playing in a group?

Releasing a solo record definitely feels more vulnerable! In Tall Poppy String Band I have the luxury of having two incredible musicians to support me and lend their energy, but when it’s just me, there’s no one else to lean on and nowhere to hide. Having said that, it also allows me to delve into certain aspects of my playing more deeply than I could otherwise. I love the sense of space that becomes possible when playing solo and not having to be heard over other instruments means I can really use the full dynamic range of the instrument.

You’ve mentioned that this album was shaped by “long familiarity and patient questioning.” Could you share more about what that process has been like for you, both musically and personally?

Most of the tunes and songs on this album have been with me for a while, but they’ve only taken shape very gradually. I think that’s because I’ve allowed myself to be more patient with the material – rather than rushing to pigeonhole it based on how I think it (or I) ought to sound. I’ve felt more able to let it develop in its own time, slowly uncovering what feels like the most honest and rewarding approach for me to take. And, I think I partly have my gender journey to thank for that. So much of my transition has involved a parallel kind of process, of learning to resist jumping to quick conclusions about myself (based in anxiety and internalized expectations) and trusting that in doing so, I would gradually get better at tuning in to something deeper, more elusive.

What does it mean to you to be an LGBTQ+ musician?

Queerness (and particularly trans-ness) can still be a rarity in trad music, meaning it’s easy to feel isolated in those spaces, especially when one is first considering coming out. But there is a small community out there of wonderful, welcoming queer trad musicians. I want to do my part to nourish that community and to help make queerness in these spaces not just feel like a possibility, but a given.

Also: while old-time music is a rich and beautiful tradition, it can tend to attract the type of person who links it to some imagined “simpler” past of traditional values, when people neatly and happily fell into their prescribed gender and social roles – while ignoring how such systems required, and still require, savage enforcement in order to exist.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

I’m continually inspired by many amazing queer musicians in the old-time world, such as Jake Blount, Tatiana Hargreaves, Rachel Eddy, and Cameron DeWhitt, just to name a few. On a completely different note, I think Lena Raine’s music is incredible – her soundtrack to the video game Celeste means a lot to me.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

“Give it time.” Suddenly realizing a few years ago that I might be trans, and all the questioning and experimenting that followed, was extremely scary and destabilizing. I often found myself anxious to quickly come to some kind of decision about what it all meant, to restore some small sense of stability. It was so helpful to be reminded in those times that I didn’t need to have the answers immediately. It takes time and practice to learn to listen to who you are, and to deconstruct the toxic stuff you’ve internalized about yourself. Even the uncertainty itself becomes more familiar with time. I took comfort in the idea that, whatever the result, I was undoubtedly doing something out of love and care for myself.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

Maybe hanging out at a swimming hole with my partner and our dog, thrifting something cute, getting hazelnut gelato, and playing old-time tunes all night with my best music pals from around the country. If I could somehow combine all of these, that would be pretty hard to top.

What are your release and touring plans for the next year?

I’m looking forward to touring solo in 2025 and sharing the music on this record with more people! And as usual I’ll be playing shows with my group Tall Poppy String Band. We also have plans to record a new album together next year, so I’m really excited for that.

Photo Credit: Renee Cornue Studio

Adeem the Artist’s ‘Anniversary’ is a Complex, Deeply Moving Homecoming

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In the press release for their 2024 album Anniversary, Adeem the Artist, the non-binary, self-described “cast iron pansexual” singer-songwriter, mentions that the album is queer country – as a genre, not simply as music made by queer people, but as a whole new thing. They also mention recording and creating with their child, their partner, and their tour manager, in a week off from touring in semi-rural Texas. The album is a deeply moving, hauntingly specific, and profoundly sophisticated look at the interweavings of family and a (literally) hostile landscape.

This is queer country – queer as a sexuality and gender and musical identity, but also as an indication of being a little askew, not really fitting plumb, as a political and personal identity. Here, a genre, Adeem notes, is a way of working against expectations or histories:

“Country music is important to me, because it’s so much tied into the dirt of where I grew up. It feels like a place I can comfortably speak from, in the authority of my testimony as a Southerner and a child of Confederates. That’s my responsibility, my calling. That’s why I’m making country records right now. It’s where I need to be, to be processing the things I’m processing.”

One of the ways of keeping safe in this landscape, while acknowledging and trying to make amends, is to move inwards, to lean on the “cast iron” of “cast iron pansexual.” This album moves from the outside – a world that is toxic and violent – toward one that is domestic. In the coruscating rock breakdown of “Plot of Land,” with its minute-long, Tom Petty quoting coda, Adeem sings:

And the politicians cast their lies like street craps,
And they sweep up every time
So baby I’m gonna find us a plot of land
With a little home to put a family in …

The plot of land is a long term plan, but there are moments in this record where you can see possibilities – of a loving home, of a rock and roll life, of a genderqueer Southern utopia, of the perfect dive bar meetup – falling out of an ambitious set of recordings. The too muchness of the album can be understood given it was made in a week, in a hostile place.

Adeem talks about how they made “Nightmare” in Texas, incorporating all the elements in their surroundings including “Isley’s laughter [their daughter], Kyle’s gentle presence [their tour manager], Hannah’s bouncing energy [their wife] as she pitche[d] hymns we could reference irreverently. That week away from the internet and the news cycle was a little insulation bubble that gave us so much room to breathe and feel safe. I don’t think this song could’ve been delivered with a different midwife.”

The midwife analogy is especially relevant to understanding some of these songs, particularly “Carry You Down,” where Adeem writes gorgeously about having and raising babies. The song is so gentle, so respectful of the autonomy of the child, but also filled with the details of domestic life that have become rare in country lately. In an album about adult pleasures and pains, it is a rest song, about carrying a child down the stairs when they ask to be carried, even if that interrupts “chorin’,” doing dishes or work in the garden.

If “Carry You Down” is a waltz, then “The Socialite Blues” is a romp about “staying up to the break of dawn/ making out of tune songs with you” – another kind of domestic, with “out of tune” its own kind of queerness. These songs have a sweetness, a refuge from harm, a way to escape not outside, but within.

The invocation of “out of tune songs” is a euphemism, but there are spaces on the album where Adeem is explicit about desire, as explicit as a country song has ever been, like in “Nancy,” which expresses exactly how difficult it is to fuck while on pharmaceuticals; or “One Night Stand,” about relationships that happen between last call and sunrise, but whose memory might, out of mercy and grace, stay on for “a lifetime of nights with him;” or “Part and Parcel,” where they sing, in gentle but urgent tones:

Take it all apart, it’s part & parcel
I came here with a strange and honest feeling
Chase all of these contradicting versions
Childhood perversions, & dreams that never steered
Let them drive a little while so that I can disappear

Those “contradicting versions” include being a child from the South, so the history here is not only personal, but social and political. There is a cluster of artists working out the history of the South right now – Justin Hiltner’s “1992,” Miko Marks’ Race Records, Willi Carlisle’s recitations of the failures of Appalachian and rural drug work, the entire career of Jake Xerxes Fussell, all of the ancestor work in Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter. It might seem like Adeem’s work is personal, but all of this historical work flows from the personal to the corporate, an understanding of history that includes both last week and last century, trauma and joy twisting into a complex homecoming.

Homecoming for Adeem also includes the history of Knoxville, Tennessee; on the album’s last song “White Mule, Black Man,” they begin by asking if it’s too much to do one more, but after the end of the track, it’s clear that nothing could be more proper. Here, Adeem telling stories of the South, from Confederation onward, means taking racial politics seriously.

In almost exactly three minutes, they tell the story of a white mob rioting after a foiled lynching, the eventual coverup of that lynching, and the layers of myth-making and storytelling to prevent the truth from being revealed. Moving from talking to singing, somewhere between Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is” and Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll,” the story in this final song laments, “But if the Tennessee River runs red with blood/ ‘Til the city runs white again/ Well, a white mule’s curse means more round here/ Than the last words muttered by murdered Black men.”

Adeem has been blunt like this before, tearing down the charnel houses of violent American racism and its myths, and this song is a deepening and extending of that practice. By ending the album on this note of violence, not as a lecture but as a moral accounting, that history work is ensuring that everyone is seen and known, their family is known, and the origins of their family’s prosperity is known.

Such knowledge is the necessary, sometimes haunting, sometimes delightful, attraction of Adeem as a person and “the Artist” – earning that sobriquet.

Photo Credit: Hannah Bingham

Out Now: Izzy Heltai

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Izzy Heltai is an indie-folk artist whose songs touch on themes like growing older, feeling lost, and finding yourself – his music resonates with many people. Izzy played the first Queerfest event, a virtual festival in 2021 hosted in partnership with Club Passim. His latest single, “My Best Friend Sam,” came out on April 25.

Izzy has a debut New York headline show coming up. If you’re in the area, be sure to check out his show at Union Pool in Brooklyn on Friday, June 21. Our Out Now conversation covers work-life balance (a large theme in his new single), his favorite LGBTQ+ artists, and his current state of mind. We’re so excited to highlight this phenomenal artist, Izzy Heltai!

Your lyrics cover themes that many people can relate to such as being anxious, growing older, self-esteem, feeling lost, etc. Do you write with the listener in mind for the relatability of these topics? Are you mostly thinking of your own experiences and emotions? Or are you considering both during the creative process?

Izzy Heltai: I think a lot of what I experience is universal. I think as we get older we all deal with issues of identity, anxiety, a sense of feeling lost, etc. I don’t really think about writing, or creating, for the purpose of being relatable. I think inherently what I write about is relatable, but the only way I can keep it authentic is by simply saying exactly what I’ve experienced. I don’t claim to know, or want to tell other people what they’ve gone through, all I can do is talk about what I experience.

Your single that came out last month, “My Best Friend Sam,” includes the lyrics, “I’ve wasted close to a decade chasing dreams and expectations / I wanna leave, I wanna stop everything / I wanna be hanging out with my best friend Sam.” How are you balancing a demanding career in the music industry with taking time for yourself and personal relationships?

Honestly, it’s been tough. This work exists in oscillations of highs and lows. One day it can feel like you have everything at the tips of your fingertips and the next day it can feel like everything’s falling apart. I’m trying to block out a lot of that. I’m trying to focus on what makes me happy about all of this, creating music with my friends, playing shows and connecting with people.

Recently, I’ve just been focusing on being in one place. Trying to be present, spending time with people I love, working on my next body of work and doing things throughout the day that make me feel the most present I can be. Reading, riding my bike, climbing, and writing songs.

What is your current state of mind?

If I’m honest, it isn’t the best it’s ever been. I broke my hip about a year ago and some things changed in my life that I had a hard time adjusting to. I’ve been refocusing recently and just putting energy into making things I love. Working on new songs I’m really proud of, investing in my friendships, riding my bike a lot, climbing with my friends. Things that make me feel grounded and most myself!

What’s your ideal vision for your future?

I love making my music, I love my friends here in Nashville and my routine, but I also love touring. Touring and playing shows, connecting with people, seeing new things, is such a big part of this for me. My ideal future consists of a balance between a routine at home, bike rides, yoga, rock climbing, writing and creating my next body of work, and a consistent sustainable touring schedule.

What would a “perfect day” look like for you?

This one’s easy. A sunny hot day, a very long bike ride, and cooking with my friends.

Why do you create music? What’s more satisfying to you, the process or the outcome?

I make music, because at one point I was a lonely, confused kid, and for some reason this was the way I processed the world. I’ll always make music regardless of who’s paying attention, but it’s easy to lose sight of that sometimes. I’m fully aware, with my identity, if my music reaches a certain level of success it has the power to really impact a marginalized population quite powerfully. I think my music becomes much more than “just for me,” because of that.

Who are your favorite LGBTQ+ artists and bands?

Lucky and honored to call her a close friend, Katie Pruitt is absolutely at the top of that list. Leith Ross, Ethel Cain, and Chappell Roan are other favorites of mine.

Photo Credit: Cait Frances

You Gotta Hear This: New Music From Aisha Badru, Benson, and More

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Aren’t Fridays the best day of the week? And no, not just because of the five-day work week, but really because it’s New Music Friday, of course!

This week, we’re featuring premieres like a thoughtful and introspective number from singer-songwriter Aisha Badru, a Bonnie Raitt cover from husband-and-wife bluegrass duo Benson with Keith Garrett lending lead vocals, a thoughtful track about cyclical national, cultural, and romantic traumas from Jessye DeSilva, and Lynne Hanson brings a new song about how some folks are just plain rotten.

There’s a little bit of everything for every kind of roots music fan, and if we do say so ourselves, You Gotta Hear This!

Aisha Badru, “Life to Live”

Artist: Aisha Badru
Hometown: Yonkers, New York
Song: “Life to Live”
Label: Nettwerk Music Group

In Their Words: “‘Life To Live’ is a song deeply rooted in my personal journey. It explores the importance of introspection and understanding what truly brings us joy and fulfillment. For me, that meant leaving the traditional path of college to pursue music, even if it wasn’t initially supported by my family. This song isn’t just about following our dreams, it’s about the growth and self-discovery that happens along the way.” – Aisha Badru

Benson, “Louise”

Artist: Benson
Hometown: Boiling Springs, South Carolina
Song: “Louise”
Release Date: March 22, 2024
Label: Mountain Home Music Company

In Their Words:“We’ve always been big fans of Keith Garrett. He’s got such a warm vocal tone and always chooses a great way of delivering the song. We were excited to have him sing a couple and felt really lucky that he said yes.” – Kristin Scott Benson

“Back in the early 1990s, I heard Bonnie Raitt’s album, Luck of the Draw. After becoming a fan and going back to her earlier projects, I came across a live video with her version of ‘Louise.’ I always thought it would make a fun bluegrass song because of the chord progression and I think Keith and Dustin sang it great.” – Wayne Benson

Track Credits:
Wayne Benson – Mandolin
Kristin Scott Benson – Banjo
Cody Kilby – Acoustic guitar
Tony Creasman – Drums
Kevin McKinnon – Bass
Keith Garrett – Lead vocal
Dustin Pyrtle – Harmony vocals

Jessye DeSilva, “Gallows Tree”

Artist name: Jessye DeSilva
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Song: “Gallows Tree”
Release Date: March 22, 2024

In Their Words: “‘Gallows Tree’ is all about the ghosts of our traumas and our misdeeds and what happens when we leave things unsaid. In the U.S. particularly, I think there is a sickening and cyclical nature to the things we repress and rebrand in denial. White couples rent plantations as backdrops for their quaint country weddings where Black bodies were broken not so long ago. We refuse to learn from the mistakes of our parents and remain complicit in the face of brutal inhumanity. In ‘Gallows Tree,’ a pastoral scene of a romantic picnic is painted, where two lovers sip iced tea on a blanket beneath the shade of a tree, while something simmers unspoken just beneath the surface. This could easily be a song about love left to dry with the years, but the lovers are all of us who remain reticent with hearts tight as fists. And now a tire swings gently from the gallows tree.” – Jessye DeSilva

Track Credits:
Music and lyrics by Jessye DeSilva and Alex Calabrese.
Jessye DeSilva – Vocals, piano
Alex Calabrese – Acoustic guitar, background vocals
Joe Dunn – Producer, bass, electric guitar, banjo, percussion programming

Lynne Hanson, “Outlaw Lover”

Artist: Lynne Hanson
Hometown: Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Song: “Outlaw Lover”
Album: Just A Poet
Release Date: March 22, 2024 (single); May 24, 2024 (album)
Label: Panda Cave Records

In Their Words: “Some people are just rotten to the core. For this song, I really wanted to paint a picture of the ultimate heartbreak artist, someone callous and uncaring who leaves a trail of victims in their wake. The kind of person your mother warned you to stay away from.

“It was a lot of fun to arrange this song in the studio. We chose an almost hypnotic groove to really give it a sexy, black-leather swagger, and the song hits its bad attitude crescendo with the nasty fuzz of Blair Michael Hogan’s guitar solo. I actually wrote this song by starting with the lyrics first, which is the opposite of my normal songwriting process. It was a real challenge to come up with the music, and I had three versions of the song before I finally settled on this one.” – Lynne Hanson

Track Credits:
Written by Lynne Hanson.

Lynne Hanson – lead vocal
Jim Bryson – acoustic guitar, electric guitars, piano, organ, mellotron
Blair Michael Hogan – electric guitar, slide guitar
Philippe Charbonneau – bass
Marshall Bureau – drums

Jim Bryson – recording engineer
Recorded at Fixed Hinge Studios, Stittsville, Ontario.
Produced by Jim Bryson.
Mastered by Phil Shaw Bova, Bova Lab Studio, Ottawa, Ontario.
Mixed by Jim Bryson, Fixed Hinge Studios.

Photo Credit: Aisha Badru by Jeffery Trapani; Benson by Sandlin Gaither.