MIXTAPE: Anna Vogelzang’s Dream Summer Camp Cabin

Now that summer is finally here and I’m about to embark on tour to support the release of my new album, I’m dreaming about idyllic summer pastimes, driving with the windows down, and crossing my fingers that I can force the band to have ice cream on the beach at least once. My new album, Afterglow, celebrates the rebuilding of self and who we become in the wake of life’s big cosmic shifts. The album has an ethereal, playful energy unlike any other record I’ve ever put out and it feels fitting that it’s being released in June (a Gemini baby!).

I never went to summer camp. My best fantasies about it fall somewhere between Wet Hot American Summer, The Parent Trap, and the tales my best friend spun while sitting on top of her sparkly pink trunk, freshly home in the late summer of 1999. In my dream scenario here, I am in an old school bunk with the most amazing women and songwriters four walls can hold; can you imagine what the moonlit campfire harmonies would sound like?! – Anna Vogelzang

“Limelight” – Tune-Yards

This song has the best groove of the summer; I cannot stop listening to it. “We all get free in the family” –Merrill is an incredible soul and I want to be around her fierceness all the time.

“The Light” – Anna Vogelzang

Of all the songs on the new record, this one is the most groove-forward. When I think about summer I think about wanting to move and groove, and this song makes me move every time I play it (or hear it!).

“Night Still Comes” – Neko Case

If I puked up some sonnets, would you call me a miracle?

Neko Case is one of my musical heroes and this song is so singable. That transition from intro to tempo, the way the background vocals fill the spaces – it all feels like dancing on a warm night.

“(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” – Aretha Franklin

The clip of Aretha playing this song at the Kennedy Center just resurfaced on my algorithm. Watching Carole King watch Aretha sing is such an incredible joy bomb and brought tears to my eyes, even though I’ve seen the clip a million times.

“Can I Talk My Shit?” – Vagabon

I love Vagabon’s melodies so much; I started hearing about her around town when I lived in LA and have been soaking up each album since. This “honestly I’m ready to go” hook is so dreamy.

“True Blue” – boygenius

“You said you wanted to feel alive so we went to the beach…”  There are so many songs I love on this record, but this one is all summer, all the time. Belting out harmonies on this near-perfect chorus while driving along Lake Michigan is something everyone should try at least once.

“Baby I’m Sorry” – mmeadows, Monica Martin

I’m obsessed with this new song from two of my all-time favorite singers. I know from experience that Moni is down to belt it out late into the night and the production on this entire track is so killer, I can’t get enough.

“The Returner” – Allison Russell

When Alli does this song live with her Rainbow Coalition, it’s otherworldly. I had the joy of jumping on stage with them for this tune at Thalia Hall and the energetic power of singing out, “If you think you’re alone, hold on, I’m comin’” cannot be denied.

“Make It Hot” – Mirah

I have been in love with Mirah since I saw her sing in a basement of a neighboring college almost 20 years ago. I love the descending chord progression on this chorus so much and arriving at the outro feels like a moment of pure triumph.

“not a lot, just forever” – Adrianne Lenker

I got to hear Adrianne play this song at a campfire hang at Kerrville once and it felt like a spell being cast – her specific song sorcery is unmatched.

“We the Common (For Valerie Bolden)” – Thao

I am a forever Thao stan and could’ve chosen so many different songs of hers, but this one’s chorus is so goddamn catchy and such a great sing-along moment (and all while speaking truth to power).

“Scaled to Survive” – Leyla McCalla

Summer laid out for us in a groove! This guitar tone, the percussion groove, and Leyla’s heavenly voice create the perfect summer storm. I love Leyla and have such a deep respect for her artistry.

“Ancient Light” – I’m With Her

Another mixed meter groove-forward campfire jam. I love this song, especially the breakdown, but really I’m loving the whole new album so much. These ladies are such a great hang and I would love their hilarity and power trio vibes in our cabin party!

“California” – Joni Mitchell

There is no song hero greater than Joni, and there is no song that feels more like summer to me than California. The opener might as well be today: “They won’t give peace a chance; that was just a dream some of us had.” On days where I really miss LA, I find myself humming this tune without even realizing it.

“King & Queen” –Anna Vogelzang

This track opens Afterglow and is a totally casual ode to toxic relationships – and really hits how good it feels when you realize you’ve outgrown someone, or something, and finally leave them in the dust. It’s giving running on the beach and into the sunset.


Photo Credit: Audre Rae Photography

Watkins Family Hour Felt “Hypnotized” By a Tune-Yards Song They Heard on Tour

Twenty years ago, two young musicians in the West Coast music scene started a residency that would outlive more bands than they could’ve imagined at the time. The brother-sister duo is none other than Sean and Sara Watkins, whose earliest national success came from their collaboration with mandolinist Chris Thile in Nickel Creek. Performing and recording with that band fostered the Watkins kids’ interest in acoustic music from a young age, and by the time they were both in their early twenties, Sara and Sean began a residency at the Los Angeles club Largo.

“It’s been really exciting to be part of this thing that is happening and growing and enables us to dig deep into this musical community. The consistency has been invaluable to both of us, as musicians,” Sean says. Sara adds, “But also, in life, the Family Hour has been and continues to be a huge part of making us feel anchored in the crazy city of Los Angeles.”

Now after numerous albums recorded with friends and on their own, Watkins Family Hour have reunited for a new project. It’s the third album from the duo, despite its curious name, Vol. II. As with previous installments from Watkins Family Hour, this new record features artists that have made guest appearances at Largo during the Watkins’ residency, including Madison Cunningham, Jackson Browne, and Gaby Moreno, to name a few.

Upon announcing the new album, Watkins Family Hour released their own spin on “Hypnotized,” one of their personal favorites discovered on their travels. “While on tour for our previous record, we heard this Tune-Yards song on the radio and then proceeded to listen to it just about every day after that while driving to the next town,” they stated. “Their version is so beautifully intricate and wild. We knew it would be a challenge, but it became apparent we needed to learn the dang thing ourselves and record it.”


Photo Credit: Jacob Boll

WATCH: Moira Smiley, “Days of War” (Feat. Sam Amidon and Seamus Egan)

Artist: Moira Smiley
Hometown: New Haven, Vermont
Song: “Days of War” (feat. Sam Amidon and Seamus Egan)
Album: In Our Voices
Release Date: February 19, 2021
Label: Moira Smiley Music

In Their Words: “As I write these words for the Bluegrass Situation, I’m traveling for the first time in nine months. I’m seeing the birds-eye view that ‘Days of War’ imagines… and it’s extraordinary to see this beautiful earth today. I’m flying to my beloved California to work with Tune-Yards and write some new music. ‘I fly because I must carry on.’ ‘Days of War’ is one of three banjo-driven tracks on my new album, In Our Voices. This album returns me to my a cappella, collaborative roots and kicks up a lot of percussive dust while bowing deeply to American folk music.

“Seamus Egan (Solas, Seamus Egan Project) and I wrote the core of this song after yet another shockwave of white supremacist hate hurt more people in 2017. It evolved into this form when my old friend and fellow Vermonter, Sam Amidon, said ‘yes!’ to singing the ‘human’ voice so I could converse with him as ‘the bird’ who flies and sings in spite of all. The bird is also the voice of our inner resilience — our artistic and humanistic gifts that carry us through times of upheaval and violence.” — Moira Smiley


Photo credit: Alexandra Defurio Photography

The Giving of Voice: A Conversation with Moira Smiley

There’s a video on YouTube of Moira Smiley leading a gathering of more than a thousand high schoolers in her voice-and-body-percussion arrangement of blues great Lead Belly’s “Bring Me Little Water, Silvy.” “Sing with our outside voices!” she exhorts them. No matter where she is, she’s all about singing out, using her voice, encouraging others to use their voices, to sing out loud.

Smiley definitely uses her outside voice, and a few other voices, on her new album, Unzip the Horizon. It’s a bracingly wide-ranging set of original songs drawing on everything from her experience in chorale work to explorations of Eastern European folk music to her time as a touring singer and percussionist with boisterous pop experimentalists Tune-Yards. Tying it all together are with two traditional American songs from the repertoire of blues singer Sidney Hemphill Carter, as recorded in 1959 by folklorist Alan Lomax.

She also enlisted an impressive roster of other voices for Unzip: Leah and Chloe Smith from Rising Appalachia, English neo-traditionalist Sam Lee, folk-and-more duo Anna & Elizabeth, Seamus Egan of the Irish-American band Solas, banjo innovator Jayme Stone, and participants from the Calais Sessions — a recording project with international musicians working with refugees, many of them unaccompanied children, living in hardship of the Calais “jungle,” a makeshift encampment in France.

And then there’s Tune-Yards’ life-force, Merrill Garbus, partnering on the rhythm-forward “Bellow,” which serves somewhat as the album’s mission statement: Please don’t give up. Please don’t hide your voice. So many people did not have that choice.

Smiley has lived by those words, taking seemingly every opportunity to explore musical and cultural avenues. In addition to her work with Tune-Yards, Solas, Stone, and the Los Angeles Master Chorale, she’s been featured on jazz pianist Billy Childs’ acclaimed tribute to Laura Nyro; studied and sung music ranging from the compositions of 12th-century abbess Hildegard Von Bingen to 20th-century sonic revolutionary Karlheinz Stockhausen; and sought and shared songs and sounds in such spots as a rural Ireland, rural Appalachia, and refugee camps in Europe, where she has volunteered with the humanitarian organization Expressive Arts Refuge.

And for more than a decade, women’s ensemble Moira Smiley & VOCO has mixed scintillating vocal harmonies with innovative use of various acoustic instruments and body percussion, their 2014 album, Laughter Out of Tears, diving into songs from Scandinavia, the Balkans, and Appalachia, along with originals inspired by those traditions, a Robert Johnson tune, and a moving version of Woody Guthrie’s ever-poignant “Deportees.”

All of that is artfully integrated into Unzip the Horizon, the work of a significant talent finding new possibilities in her voice, literally and literarily. Or as she and Garbus sing on “Bellow”: You ask me why I sing softer now. Did the world beat me down? This is the way we call the unknown, lift the veil to the other side.

There’s a word that’s in the lyrics of at least four songs on this album: broken. Do you see singing, music as a way to repair breaks in the world?

First of all, I love the word “broken.” And I love the idea of it because, from decay and brokenness, always come the new things. But also it’s that reminding ourselves to look around and see all the ways we’re broken. We’re often pushing forward, trying to ignore what’s broken. I’m interested in the compassion of noticing the broken and, yeah, trying to heal it — and realizing that some of it we can never heal.

And music has a role in that?

I think so. Sometimes I think music is just child’s play and has no power. But when I look out at a group of kids that are moving together, singing, as I do with all this chorale stuff, and feel that pride and joy, that’s palpable. Music does have a way of lifting us up together. That’s obvious, right? I don’t know if it changes the world. I feel super-cynical about it, but also hopeful that I’m making a difference.

It’s about giving voice to people’s stories.

It’s true. There’s a lot of evidence in the traditional songs that you make a difference with the singing. Some of the Balkan songs, a lot of Bulgarian songs are about lamenting the role of a woman — that she’s powerless to say where she goes and who she loves. The songs express the powerlessness and, at the same time, acknowledge the roles of the woman and also empower her.

And music has been a force for overcoming oppression — the “Singing Revolution” in Estonia, the role the rediscovery of folk music helped restore national identity in Hungary and elsewhere as they broke from Soviet domination.

As a force against colonialism, it can be very powerful, and that’s across the board. I was just reading Maria Popova. She does Brain Pickings, every week sends out a collection, writes articles with tons of literary references, everything from Zadie Smith to Camus. She’s incredible. She was talking about how Zadie Smith speaks of “othering,” and the relationship of the “other” to us.

I just wrote another song that talks about anger and fear being in the same room and the polarization we see in our country — anger in the other side because you fear the other side because you don’t understand the other side, which creates a cycle.

What did Merrill Garbus draw from you in your Tune-Yards stint?

She drew on the whole spectrum of my voice and also my physicality, which I loved. I was dancing every night! The percussive aspect of her music got into my bones. The interest I had in body percussion, got to play around for a couple years with her and using the fullest voice was such a pleasure. We were singing at the top of our lungs and dancing, percussively, behind her.

Did you write songs on the album thinking about who would sing and play with you, or did you write first and invite guests after? For example, “Wise Man” sounds tailor-made for Sam Lee.

In that case, the song came first, but I really wanted Sam to sing with me on the album. The song came a while ago and when I was thinking of it — a love story, really — I wanted it as a duo with a man’s voice and thought he would be perfect. I adore Sam.

And “Dressed in Yellow” with Anna & Elizabeth?

I always knew I wanted to have them. I wrote “Dressed in Yellow” on the tour bus with Tune-Yards and always heard Anna & Elizabeth singing those responses. It was really shortly after the creation of the song that they came to mind.

The song sounds like a mix of American “shape note” singing and the playfulness of the kind of things June Tabor and Maddy Prior did with English folk songs in their Silly Sisters duets.

Oh, yeah, totally. It’s in the shape of a child ballad [from England], like “The Devil’s Nine Questions.” [She sings some of it] It’s kind of that ballad form, with the statements and responses, and I threw in a little bridge at the end.

And then Leah and Chloe Smith for Rising Appalachia along with the Calais Sessions performers on “Refugee?”

When I was singing “Refugee,” I forget how the time-line went, but [Leah and Chloe and I] were in touch. We’ve stayed in touch over the years, but were talking about getting together to do something, and that made me realize they’d be perfect, with their social consciousness right out front.

The other parts, with the Calais Sessions, they were doing really powerful, well-regarded work in the Calais Jungle, respected musicians. I had [Anglo-Nigerian percussionist] Sola Akingbola in a friend’s living room with a Kurdish percussionist, Rekan Ibrahimi. Sola is from the band Jamiroquai, and went to Calais to work with the Calais Sessions. That’s a really cool bunch of musicians and they released a beautiful album, too. Everything from Eritrean church songs to Kurdish folk.

You have worked with refugees, yourself, so the inspiration for the song is personal.

I’ve been for the last couple of years going with a group of Americans to teach music, bring medical supplies, volunteer at refugee camps in Europe. It’s called Expressive Arts Refuge. I was invited by Betsy Blakeslee, who has spearheaded this throughout the world. She also worked in the Bosnian war in the ‘90s. She’s interested in using the arts to help others.

When we were in the Calais Jungle, and then were in Athens last summer, there were a lot of Arabic-speaking people there. They also speak their own languages, but Arabic is spoken across cultures, and I came to realize what a vast and ancient music culture that is — and how modern it is. I recorded a lot of young Arab rappers, fully fledged hip-hop artists, but they were also playing ouds and sazzes and all mixed together. That was an eye-opener back into some of the early music work that I’ve done, music from Spain in the 1400s and what happened after that [the expulsion of the Arabic, Moorish and Jewish people]. So here we are again, in a different, but related era of diaspora. What can we learn from the past? How can we be compassionate to each other as these big forces are hurting us and our brothers and sisters?

Do you see yourself as a musicologist or folklorist?

Roughly. I have long worshipped that role, the ethnomusicologist, song collector, for sure. I’ve done it, but I wouldn’t call myself anything official.

But you’ve made a point of seeking out singers and songs all over the world, so you are doing that.

Sitting in a field with the Ethiopian musician Seleshe Damessae, that was one of the earliest mind-blowing experiences for me. Literally, sat in a field in the shade of this tree and he just said, “Okay, I’ll give you some songs.” That was years ago … could have been 18 years ago. Those experiences — in kitchens, at the end of a concert, at a party — that’s where the business is. That’s where the magic happens.

You have the two songs on this album that come from the Alan Lomax archives — “Worried Now,” which is a fairly well-known song, and “Leather Britches,” which is probably less familiar. You play around with both of them in your own distinctive ways.

That comes partially because of this long-time project with Jayme Stone, searching around the Alan Lomax collection. The global jukebox is what Alan named it, and you can look it up at culturalequity.org. Enormous resources. Those two songs are from stumbling around on there. She [Sidney Hemphill Carter] sang whatever she could remember, some blues. And Alan said, “Do you have any songs from when you were a kid?” That’s what came out.

There’s a fiddle tune called “Leather Britches.” When I first brought this song out, I performed it with body percussion and singing for a long time in concerts. It was kind of an outlier for this album, but it’s me playing around — prepared piano and putting weird stoppers on the banjo, more fun and experimental.


Photo credit: DeFurio Photography