Is Tyler Childers’
Snipe Hunter a Prank?
Yes and No

I remember my very first snipe hunt. I was a teenager and my family, along with a handful of others, had recently left our former congregation, deciding to spend each Sunday alternating between our various houses to hold “home church” instead. This particular Sunday afternoon, we had already finished our DIY service, had enjoyed our shared meal, and were sitting scattered in lawn chairs and on the front porch of a humble little brick home in the foothills of southeastern Ohio.

A few of the more mischievous, prank-minded adults had begun gathering as many of the kids as possible, from toddlers to teens like me to young adults, with empty plastic grocery bags spanning the distance between our arms as we tramped off from the porch to the surrounding trees and woods. We were taught to shout, to bang sticks together or against tree trunks, and to keep those grocery bags open and ready, as the snipe were hiding above and – when correctly startled using these certified methods – would fall directly and immediately into our waiting plastic sacks.

We made attempts, we marched around, we laughed and shrieked and ran about. No, we didn’t catch a single snipe that day, but that’s not how I determined it was a prank. It was my very first snipe hunt – we weren’t a Scouts or summer camp sort of family – and still, as soon as they began passing around grocery bags, I knew a joke was being played. I wasn’t on the inside of it yet, but I knew what was happening – even though I really had no clue.

As a young teen, I had at that point spent my entire life obsessed with two things: banjo and birds. So when the jokester adults began spinning their yarn about how we were going to all catch snipe together, I knew we most certainly were not. After all, I knew Wilson’s Snipe were the only snipe species native to North America and that they preferred grasslands, marshes, beaver ponds, shorelines, and flooded meadows to lush hardwood forests in the foothills. Plus, at that time of year they would have already migrated back to their summer grounds in the north.

I had also already passed my Ohio Department of Natural Resources Hunter Safety Course – incredibly proud that I had scored 100% and hadn’t missed a single question – and knew that Wilson’s Snipe were hunted across the U.S. as upland game birds. I hadn’t hunted or bagged any, but having already spent countless hours across multiple seasons tracking down pheasant, partridge, and grouse, I knew that a grocery bag wouldn’t be our first choice if taking home snipe were really our aim.

Though I had never before been initiated into the lore or ritual of such a snipe hunt, I immediately knew what was happening, why it was happening, and – somehow, despite the odds – I overcame my primary instinct as a know-it-all bird nerd and didn’t “Um, actually…” obnoxiously and ruin the joke for everyone. I stretched out that Kroger bag and ran alongside all my home church friends as we hunted for snipe.

On July 25, Kentuckian country megalith Tyler Childers released Snipe Hunter, a Rick Rubin-produced Appalachian fever dream of an album that has had a remarkably polarizing effect across the diverse and disparate swathes of folks who profess to be Childers fans. Drawing from grunge and garage rock as often as old-time fiddle and bluegrassy mountain music, the 13 songs of Snipe Hunter are impeccable, harlequin, and mystifying. This is a fantastic collection – superlative yes, but even moreso, these songs are pure fantasy.

Being a snipe huntin’ veteran myself, as I first listened through the LP, I was floored. As each unpredictable, unhinged, unparalleled song ended and the next began I was all at once shocked and surprised, but still knew exactly what was coming next – and why. (Even though, as for that first snipe hunt as a kid, I actually had no idea what was going on. How could any of us?)

It’s just, I was already on the inside of this joke, too. While the internet (especially TikTok and Instagram Reels) quickly became swallowed up in wall-to-wall speculative videos about the album – claiming it was a prank, a litmus test, a Rorschach inkblot, a middle finger to the red hat-wearing fans who blow capillaries in their eyes screaming for “Feathered Indians” at every show – a host of folks pushed back on their front porch gliders and smiled to themselves. Because, if you’re Appalachian, or a lifelong folk musician, or even just an ardent and committed fan of true country, Americana, and bluegrass, you know exactly what this album is – and you know without a single shred of doubt that it’s not a prank.

It’s clear that many listeners feel challenged and excluded by Snipe Hunter. Many folks think it must be a joke purely because the thing is downright silly, or because Childers forsook the Sturgill Simpson or Zach Bryan trajectory he could have taken quite a few records ago and they’re still grieving what could have been. Other listeners seem to think the album is unserious not because it’s hilarious, but because they don’t hear the country in it. Or the Appalachia in it. Or the homespun, DIY, front-porch, hay-barn-recording-studio, rural-East-Kentucky-VFW-hall of it all throughout the sequence.

But to folks from inside the scenes Childers paints, to folks who’ve lived their lives in or touching on the regions he tributes with these poetic (and ugly and greasy) songs, to folks who still have grounded, everyday relationships with this type of rural mountain creativity and the folkways he draws on, this is just a standard phenotypic Appalachian country record. With more than a dash of Childers panache, of course.

There are eye-widening and jaw-dropping tales of far-off and exotic places (“Down Under,” “Tirtha Yatra”); there are eyebrow-raising retellings of hunting trips that seem just a bit too good or too successful or too chaotic to be true (“Dirty Ought Trill,” “Poachers,” “Snipe Hunt”); there are songs about sticking it to the man, sticking up for the working class, and sticking out your wrist to clown your not-as-rich neighbors (“Eatin’ Big Time,” “Nose On The Grindstone,” “Getting to the Bottom”); there are tributes to the true, multi-ethnic reality of Appalachia and the Southeast (“Tirtha Yatra,” “Dirty Ought Trill”); and of course, there’s “transatlantic” “Scotch/Irish” present, too (“Tomcat and a Dandy”). In short, it’s a country album. It’s an Appalachian album. Rick Rubin be damned.

For a record that has been regarded by thousands and thousands of listeners as a “prank,” it’s striking how grounded in Kentucky, Appalachia, and the Southeast this set of songs really is. Though you may need to be viewing it from the inside of the kaleidoscope to hold onto this fact.

This is a traditional album; it might even be Childers’ most regional and culturally anchored project yet – which is saying something, given the terroir of Long Violent History, the Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven? trilogy, and well, you know, his entire remaining catalog of country and bluegrass. Plus, he tracked the thing in Hawai’i. Quite a different set of mountains than East Kentucky.

Snipe Hunter is only a joke if you see Appalachia as a joke. And, my, how so many folks are telling on themselves in this moment. Luckily, Appalachians are used to being the butt of the joke. (And Childers is, too, as he writes himself into that role over and over again – on Snipe Hunter for sure, and beyond.)

The area grew its regional and cultural identity that we all still venerate today from being the first “wild west” of the New World. An ancient mountain range – the bedrock older than trees, older than our current continents, and older than bones themselves – with its hidden hollers, switchbacks, and impenetrable forests and hills, it was the perfect hiding spot for hardscrabble working class folks of all backgrounds and ethnicities fleeing civilization on a continent that didn’t have a lot of that to go around anyway. Villages and towns were often multi-ethnic (white, Black, Asian, Native American) and, by necessity, were remarkably communitarian as, until the advent of the railroad, survival, getting anything done, and getting anywhere in the Appalachians was a tall task that required insider knowledge and a host of help. Back then “it took a village” to survive in Appalachia, and it does to this day.

Alongside the trend of speculating about the intrinsic prank of Snipe Hunter online you’re just as likely to encounter dozens and dozens of vertical videos explaining and hyping up Appalachian folklore about cryptids, ghosts, and paranormal activity. Never before in the history of the region have skinwalkers and unexplained whistling in the middle of the night and beings like Mothman held such cultural power outside of the mountains themselves. You can make an entire career off of explaining creepy Appalachian myths without ever having been there yourself – and with an accent so passé you could be from anywhere.

You wouldn’t think these brands of videos – “Tyler Childers made Sniper Hunter to piss off the fans he doesn’t like” vs. “Here’s what to do when you hear a voice call your name in the middle of the night in rural Appalachia” – would be so analogous, but they really and truly are.

With these kinds of Appalachian myths, of monsters and cryptids and spirits and ghosts, their validity is entirely based upon their contexts, right? Appalachians know there’s no easier way to spot an outsider, a city slicker, or a poverty tourist in their midst than by letting someone who thinks they know what they’re talking about do just that with all the unearned confidence of a person who actually doesn’t know what they mean. These myths, while in many communities and families are held up as true in particular contexts or shared as knowledge – an amalgam of legend, myth, truth, science, and spirituality – their purpose has always largely been to determine one thing: Who’s an insider and who’s an outsider?

If you hear a stranger on TikTok explain to you that you should: 1) never go outside in Appalachia at night and 2) if you do, and you hear a voice you recognize call your name, you should 3) not do that and go back from where you came and thank your lucky stars that you respected this magical place enough to learn your lesson in advance – that person is not an insider. And, if you believe that video as truth or as cultural knowledge, you may not be an insider, either.

And that’s where we land. Tyler Childers’ Snipe Hunter is not a prank, except it most certainly is. It’s a cryptid. A litmus test to show who is on the inside of what he’s making and who’s on the outside. It’s artful, stunning, and resplendent because he makes his musical test such that anyone can pass, anyone can enjoy the product, and anyone can be a part of this wild, ridiculous, and joyous reality. But will you be inside the joke, or outside of it? Will you be shuddering in your car, doors locked, afraid of skinwalkers? Or will you be out under the stars on a ridgetop listening to the hounds bray as Dirty Ought Trill chases the dogs who are chasing raccoons down the holler?

Either way, the music will still hit, but wherever you start or end up here will change how the snipe hunt goes for you – and will determine whether or not you take anything home with you in that crinkled-up grocery bag.


Explore more of our Artist of the Month content on Tyler Childers here.

Photo Credit: Emma Delevante

Good Country, Good Community

Editor’s Note: Each issue of Good Country, our co-founder Ed Helms will share a handful of good country artists, albums, and songs direct from his own earphones in Ed’s Picks.

Gospel-infused, blues-inspired “swampgrass” from North Georgia, this Americana duo reminds of the Civil Wars, the SteelDrivers, and the Secret Sisters. Even so, they certainly have a sound all their own. Their new EP, Sweet Southern Summer, arrives August 22.

Read more about the Band Loula in conversation with Dierks Bentley here.


Our old favorite Timmy Ty has done it again! Snipe Hunter is a masterpiece of traditional postmodern Appalachian music. It’s hilarious and heartfelt, entirely unserious and devastating, too. No matter the textures and genres he references in his work, Tyler has always been Good Country (and very bluegrass, too).

Tyler Childers is our Artist of the Month. Dive into our coverage here.


Greensky Bluegrass

Bluegrass and jamgrass fans rejoiced in late July when our longtime pals in Greensky announced their upcoming album, XXV, marking 25 years of this incredibly impactful string band. With the announcement they released “Reverend,” featuring their Michigan compatriot Billy Strings. Here’s to the new album – and to the next 25 years! We can’t wait.


Robert Earl Keen & Friends: Applause for the Cause

The Texas Hill Country floods devastated fertile territory for roots music and Good Country in west Texas in early July. The artistic community has responded en force, quickly assembling quite a few star-studded benefit shows, concerts, and on-the-ground relief efforts.

Robert Earl Keen – together with a host of partners and sponsors – has convened a superlative lineup for just such an event, Applause for the Cause, to be held August 28 in New Braunfels, Texas. Featuring appearances by luminaries such as Tyler Childers, Miranda Lambert, Cody Jinks, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Kelsey Waldon, Jamey Johnson, and many more, the show almost immediately sold out. The good news is you can watch the performances via streaming (Amazon Music, DIRECTV, Veeps) and REK’s YouTube channel. The even better news is you can still donate directly to the Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country, beneficiaries of the evening, to support the cause.


Trisha Yearwood

Yes, Trisha Yearwood is a country legend of stage and screen, but did you know she’s a stellar songwriter as well? Her brand new album, The Mirror, reflects this fact with 15 tracks all co-written by the Grand Ole Opry member. Plus, the collection features guests like Jim Lauderdale, Charles Kelley, and Hailey Whitters. THIS is Good Country!


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Photo Credits: The Band Loula by Sara Katherine Mills; Tyler Childers by Sam Waxman; Greensky Bluegrass by Dylan Langille; Robert Earl Keen by Emma Delevante; Trisha Yearwood by Russ Harrington.

Tyler Childers: The Backstory (In Songs)

Tyler Childers has taken an unlikely path to the top via live performance, not radio singles. He’s become an improbable arena-level star by ignoring typical Nashville bromides – equal parts Patterson Hood’s working-class Southern blues, Chris Stapleton’s bluegrass bonafides, and Woody Guthrie’s progressive populism. After all, you’re not gonna call your touring band The Food Stamps unless you lean left, at least a little.

Like Billy Strings, Childers has become enough of a sensation for his appeal to extend beyond the Americana-adjacent world, too. Last year, he even turned up onstage for a live cameo with pop star Olivia Rodrigo in his Kentucky stomping grounds to do his song “All Your’n.” It went over like a house on fire.

Since country radio is finally, belatedly catching on with “Nose On The Grindstone,” lead single to Childers’ fine new Rick Rubin-produced LP Snipe Hunter, let’s take a look back to where he came from.

How’d this happen, anyway? Like this.

“Hard Times,” Bottles and Bibles (2011)

Going back to the beginning, “Hard Times” was the song that opened Childers’ full-length debut Bottles and Bibles. It’s an actual hillbilly elegy that definitely sets a tone, with finely detailed lyrics that unfold like a short story. Simultaneously stoic and emotional, Childers’ quavering vocal about a holdup gone wrong makes him sound like a protagonist who somehow regrets both everything and nothing at all: “And if the Lord wants to take me, I’m here for the taking/ ‘Cause Hell’s probably better than tryin’ to get by.”

“Long Violent History,” Long Violent History (2020)

Bluegrass roots and of-the-moment progressive activism makes for an unusual combination, but here we are. “Long Violent History” is the title track to a bluegrass album and it’s the only original and non-instrumental track on the record. Evoking “Faded Love” at the outset and “My Old Kentucky Home” on the outro, it’s a rural Southern score for the Black Lives Matter protests that swept America in 2020.

“It’s the worst that it’s been since the last time it happened,” Childers sighs at the outset, resigned to the inevitability of violence happening again. For good measure, Childers made a supplemental spoken-word video (below) explaining the necessity of BLM: “If we didn’t need to be reminded, there would be justice for Breonna Taylor, a Kentuckian like me, and countless others.”

“Jersey Giant” – Elle King (2022)

If Childers ever records his own version of “Jersey Giant,” he’ll have to hustle to top Elle King’s cover. As with the similarly themed “Me and Bobby McGee” (written by Kris Kristofferson, but owned for the ages by Janis Joplin), King just completely inhabits the song’s bittersweet, longing anguish. “I left town when we were over… Just didn’t feel the same” – the way she pauses a beat between lines is just chef’s-kiss perfection. There are numerous cover versions of “Jersey Giant” out there, but this is the one that’s going to linger.

“Luke 2:8-10,” Rustin’ In The Rain (2023)

Remember the big pivot-point moment of truth in the classic holiday cartoon A Charlie Brown Christmas – the “Lights, please” speech that his friend Linus makes? Childers must have grown up with that, too. Linus spoke these Bible verses, Luke 2:8-10, which Childers transposes to the key of honky-tonk in this song with his drawl in full effect. You can almost imagine the “Peanuts” dancers doing a two-step to it.

“Purgatory,” Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven? (2022)

Childers’ ambitiously wide-ranging 2022 album Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven? featured eight gospel songs, each done in three different versions dubbed Hallelujah, Jubilee, and Joyful Noise. The latter category tricked each tune up with samples and remixes, which might be the closest Childers has ever come to hip-hop electronica (at least so far!). In this guise, the title track from his 2017 project Purgatory cuts the sort of groove you’d expect to hear in New Orleans.

“The Heart You’ve Been Tending,” Harlan Road – NewTown (2016)

What does it mean that so many of the best covers of Childers’ songs are by women? Who’s to say, but here’s another great one, from the Kentucky band NewTown’s Harlan Road album. “The Heart You’ve Been Tending” is in waltz time, with fiddler/singer Kati Penn’s vocal shining bright as a lighthouse cutting through a foggy mountain breakdown.

“In Your Love,” Rustin’ in the Rain (2023)

Another multimedia project of sorts, this song from Childers’ Rustin’ in the Rain started out as a relatively conventional devotional love song. Then he enlisted collaborators including his fellow Kentuckian, author Silas House, to make a video that casts “In Your Love” as a sort of country music version of Brokeback Mountain set in coal-mining country. As beautiful as it is heartbreaking.

“Matthew,” Country Squire (2019)

Childers has always been wildly eclectic and this song from his Country Squire LP is a prime example. “Matthew” is yet another working-class waltz, with enough bluegrass savvy to drop bluegrass legend Clarence White’s name in the lyrics – plus an actual sitar as oddball sound-effect mood-setter at the beginning of the song. Somehow it makes perfect sense.

“Bottles and Bibles (Live),” Live on Red Barn Radio I & II (2018)

With or without a band, Childers has always been a riveting performer. This live version of the title track to his 2011 studio debut closed out 2018’s Live on Red Barn Radio I & II and it’s just voice and guitar. All the better to focus on the tale of a preacher as wayfaring stranger pondering the difficulties of keeping to the straight and narrow: “But they ain’t had to walk with the weight that you’ve hauled/ They don’t know you at all, but they think that they do.”

“Coal,” Bottles and Bibles (2011)

What might Bruce Springsteen have been like if he’d grown up in a Kentucky coal-mining family? You can imagine him turning out like the narrator of this song, which sounds way too timeless to have originated in this century. It’s pure working-class desperation: “We coulda made something of ourselves out there, if we’d listened to the folks/ That coal is gonna bury you.”

“Oneida,” Snipe Hunter (2025)

To be a Childers fan is to accept that he does have some idiosyncratic boundaries. There are songs from his live shows he’s never recorded, like the previously mentioned “Jersey Giant”; or popular recorded songs he has sworn off playing live, including the now-widely-seen-as-problematic “Feathered Indians.” For the better part of a decade, one of his unrecorded orphans was “Oneida,” a longtime fan favorite that’s like a Harold and Maude for the country set. Lo and behold, a recorded version finally surfaced as one of the best songs on Snipe Hunter. Dreams do come true.


Find more of our Artist of the Month coverage of Tyler Childers – including our Essentials Playlist – here.

Photo Credit: Sam Waxman

Artist of the Month:
Tyler Childers

Next to fellow Kentuckians Sturgill Simpson and Chris Stapleton, you’ll be hard pressed to find a singer more influential on the Commonwealth – or on all of Appalachian music – than Tyler Childers.

The Lawrence County-born artist first began cutting his teeth on dark corner stages inside diners across Eastern Kentucky and in grainy YouTube videos prior to laying the foundation for the cult-like following that’s been enamored with him since with 2011’s Bottles & Bibles and 2016’s Live On Red Barn Radio I & II. The following year he burst onto the national scene with his Simpson-produced studio debut, Purgatory.

From a voice as gritty and raw as the black gold he sings about on songs like “Nose On The Grindstone” and “Coal” to lyrics that shatter stereotypes and perceptions cast down on his home region by those outside of it, it’s easy to see why Childers’ music has become a soundtrack for not just part but all of Appalachia.

Whether it be the combination of humility and holler-bred antics within Purgatory, the intimate honky-tonk vignettes of Country Squire, the fiddle tunes of Long Violent History, the gospel-fueled experimentation of Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven? or the spiritual embodiment of Elvis on Rustin’ In The Rain, Childers has found success by shaking expectations at every turn, keeping old fans on their toes and bringing new ones in along the way.

When violence perpetrated by police was front and center during the aftermath of George Floyd’s death in 2020, Childers opted to cap off that fiddle album with its only vocal track, the protest anthem “Long Violent History.” During a heated societal moment, he approached the tune from an angle of empathy rather than pretentiousness as he tried contextualizing everything going on with past events like the Battle of Blair Mountain. Then in 2023 he had his first hit on country radio with “In Your Love,” an epic love tale that he recast as a gay one with the help of then Kentucky Poet Laureate Silas House in 2023.

While some fans have been turned off by his “political” statements, his viewpoints ultimately led to more people going down the rabbit hole of Childers’ catalog than ever before. This growth has culminated in sold-out shows at fabled venues like New York City’s Madison Square Garden, Lexington’s Kroger Field, London’s O2 Arena and the Los Angeles’ Hollywood Bowl. It also resulted in recording a track for last year’s TWISTERS soundtrack, collaborating with Olivia Rodrigo for a cover of “All Your’n” during a GUTS tour stop in Kentucky, and performing during The White House’s Fourth of July celebrations in 2024. Close to 10 years removed from his breakthrough moment, the singer is as popular and influential as ever.

That influence is sure to grow with the release of his latest studio album, Snipe Hunter. Recorded with and produced by Rick Rubin in Hawaii in early 2024, the 13-song compilation charts the red-headed stranger’s creative and spiritual coming of age with stories of the band’s success. The project is sprinkled with a bit of anti-capitalistic sentiment (“Eatin’ Big Time”), a yearning to escape on a trek to India (“Tirtha Yatra”), his fear of Koalas (“Down Under”) and hunting for whitetail deer (“Dirty Ought Trill”).

Much like its predecessors, Snipe Hunter captures Childers signature sound while also sounding like nothing he’s released before it, a fact no doubt aided by Rubin’s knack for crafting material that sticks to the cultural zeitgeist like superglue. Songs like “Nose On The Grindstone” and “Oneida” – a story about falling for an older woman – have been in Childers’ performance rotation, on YouTube playlists for years, and traded as coveted bootlegs, but the versions captured for Snipe Hunter, with their additions of organ, synths, and other studio toys, has each feeling reborn and completely new again.

Collectively, the album feels rooted in country funk bands of old like Goose Creek Symphony just as much as it incorporates more modern influences like Charlie Brown Superstar (whose remixes for Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven? are sublime) and Eric Church, serving up the perfect combination of past, present and future sounds in the process while sticking to the deeply personal Appalachian flavoring that has long highlighted his grand storytelling.

To celebrate the release of Snipe Hunter, we’ve named Childers our Good Country and BGS Artist Of The Month for August. Throughout the month, we’ll celebrate Childers by going back into our archives for all-things-Tyler, plus we put together a retrospective look at his catalog of songs and recordings here, have shared a thoughtful examination of whether or not Snipe Hunter was created as a musical “prank,” and of course, don’t miss our Essential Tyler Childers Playlist, below.


Photo Credit: Sam Waxman

‘Welcome to the Plains’ and to the Red Dirt Universe of Wyatt Flores

Each year, the country music machine and its many fans and acolytes turn over, again and again and again, the quintessential question of “What is authenticity?” We’ve asked that very question quite a few times on Good Country over the last year ourselves, and we know as long as roots music and folk music are made, listeners will continue to ponder what is or isn’t “real,” “raw,” or… “authentic.”

Wyatt Flores has been chosen as authentic. Country Music has spoken, and this quickly skyrocketing young artist has been riding a wave lately surfed by folks like Sierra Ferrell, Tyler Childers, Colter Wall, and Zach Top. Like these real country “poster children,” Flores’ music is realistic and grounded. It isn’t idealized revisionism in outlaw trappings. His songs never attempt to sugarcoat or mythologize, paving over the complications of rural life, red dirt realness, or the gritty patina of a rural places – like his homeland of Oklahoma.

Flores’ new album, Welcome to the Plains, is decidedly and delightfully trad country with nearly universal critical and listener acclaim. He currently racks up 3.5 million streams a month on Spotify alone, bolstered by a series of incredibly popular and consistently viral singles and EPs leading up to this, his full-length debut. For so many writers, diehard fans, and critics, Flores has long been “one to watch,” but that visibility stretches further and wider, to listeners across the country and around the world from so many different backgrounds and starting points.

Part of the reason why such a young artist with a relatively nascent career could have already amassed such a coalition of followers is that realistic, unguarded, “I know who I am, even though I’m still figuring out where I’m going” approach. It’s evident in his artistry, his performing prowess, and his skill for songwriting – all of which are evidenced prominently across this album.

Welcome to the Plains is one of the most remarkable records of 2024; it continues a tone long set in Flores’ career and music, even before this current inflection point and its substantial momentum. Wyatt Flores is bound for longevity, for many more successes, for many more millions of plays, as long as he remains exactly who he is: Wyatt Flores.

Your music has such a strong sense of place, so I wanted to start by talking about Oklahoma and growing up there. You’re down to earth in the way that you talk about Oklahoma from the beginning of the album, from the first notes of the title track. You’re viewing it in a very realistic way, not just in an idealized way. Can you talk about how Oklahoma inspired the album and what “home” means to you?

Wyatt Flores: When you think about Oklahoma, you have to [barely] scratch the surface to know that the history behind it is pretty screwed up, how Oklahoma came about, and we’re not one of the best states, if that makes sense? We’re 49th in education. And we’ve got a lot of people from California moving there just because it’s cheaper and everything else, but to live in Oklahoma, you gotta bear through the weather.

Then also, every year is a coin toss if things are going to grow, right? This year’s been a struggle up until this past couple of weeks, [during] which we just got like a foot of rain. But yeah, it’s been one of the hardest places to really build. And the people are so damn nice in Oklahoma, but it’s a tough place to live. Most people don’t want it. But I love it. “Welcome to the Plains,” it’s trying to describe [Oklahoma] … in the verses I really wanted to try and find more of a nature side to it, and then by the chorus just really tell the truth about it.

It feels really authentic and grounded, but you can still hear that you love Oklahoma in it, too. I think that’s a really interesting combination. Country is really good at rural America propaganda – and I love rural America, so I’m for it, to a degree – but to me, your album doesn’t feel like it has to close an eye to the history of Oklahoma to love it.

Yeah, it was a fun journey to try. I was sitting there just trying not to write songs about the road, because that was the only thing that I was doing. I was like, “This is the only life I’m living.” And not many people know what it’s like to be on a bus or on tour – at that time we were still in the van. It was more so daydreaming about home, missing the place, and then just trying to find the memories to piece everything together.

And I had a lot of weird influences, like “Little Town,” I was really trying to find the same feeling as listening to “Pink Houses” by John Mellencamp. I don’t write too many happy songs, and I was not in a good headspace in that time period. For some reason, I guess I was just daydreaming of a better life, and I kept writing about home, but in a different format of not always missing it.

Another song that really captures this topic is “Stillwater.” I love that it has this sort of dark, contemplative tinge and it feels gritty. Could talk a little bit about writing “Stillwater” and about your relationship with “home” and the construction of “home”? That’s such a country tradition as well, not just talking about home and missing it, but understanding that home is a nebulous, intangible thing, even if it literally exists.

There’s a lot of bands that say they come from Stillwater, but they really just started in Stillwater and they came from a different area, since it is a college town. But I was born and raised there in Stillwater. All my life the college has been my backyard. When I wrote that song in the summer of ’22, I had my guitar player with me and my fiddle player’s husband and we sat down to write that. It was more so just trying to give people a different perspective on what it’s like to actually grow up in a college town, because it’s a vicious cycle of the same shit – like, no one else sees it, because they’re living inside of the four years of going [to college].

And me also being a college dropout, I never got to actually go to [Oklahoma State University]. I went to OSUIT in Okmulgee, Oklahoma. And that did not last long. [Laughs] But yeah, I was like, “No one’s ever actually talked shit on a hometown and actually put the name in it.” So I was just being ballsy with it. I had to change quite a few lyrics, because I kind of went a little too far. I probably would have pissed a lot of people off.

The song was intentional. I don’t know, [I wanted to] make people think differently. Because that is my home. A lot of times, you just see people take advantage of the town, and the town keeps growing. Every single time I come back home now, there’s another chicken place and another damn car wash. I was like, “How many do we need?” Good lord. I was really pissed off in the mindset of it. I’m glad that we captured it, because for a while, I was scared to release it just because I was like, “People are gonna think that I hate Stillwater.” But really, it’s still a love song towards it.

It feels like you’re loving Stillwater, you’re loving Oklahoma, but your love for it requires you to look at it through an accurate lens and not an idealized version of it.

And it’s a relationship. My relationship with that town has just been back and forth. You’ll have that resentment, and you’ll have that frustration with it, but you still love it. It’s crazy to think about it that way, through that lens, but that’s what it is.

You touched on your co-writing process and I was excited to see how forward your own writing and your own perspective is on this album. Can you describe your co-writing and collaboration process for these songs? I noticed, too, that Ketch Secor co-wrote the title track.

When I wrote with Ketch, that was super cool. ‘Cause I had just gotten done watching Killers of the Flower Moon. I was already so inspired by that and wanting to really speak some truth. But not just by absolutely laying into people on the bad shit that’s going on – you can’t force-feed people. When we sat down [to write, Ketch] said that he wanted to write shit about Oklahoma and I was like, “That works out great!” The song just came together and it was it’s one of the coolest things, because I didn’t know how to feel about it quite yet. I was like, “This has some good shit in there…” and then when we went to record it, I was like, “Here it is! This is the way it’s supposed to go.”

But with the writing of this entire album, I was scared shitless. I didn’t think I was good enough, and I didn’t think these songs were good enough for an album. I started overthinking the entire thing. People can get mad at me all they want for doing co-writes, but I’m still writing. It’s not like I just sit in there and wait for these people to write these songs for me. This is all me.

The other thing is, my music taste [has] so much variety that I think it’s only better if I sit down with other people that have other strengths, to get to where I want to go – into these different styles of songs. I don’t want to do the same song, different chords, you know what I’m saying? I wanted it to be so unique and to keep it the way that I’ve always done it, which is to have different styles of songs. For that, I feel like you have to have different songwriters come in and give you different pieces.

I also have to ask you about bluegrass. One of the first things that we shared on our site of yours was a Tyler Childers cover that you recorded with Sierra Hull at Red Rocks. Our audience loved it so much. I think part of why your music resonates across diehard country fans to indie fans to bluegrass fans is that you’re not just a performer and a songwriter, but you’re a picker, too. What is your relationship like with bluegrass music? Is it something that’s prominent in your listening and in your influence?

So, I will first and foremost say this: I am not that good of a picker. [Laughs]

That stuff, that is something that I love. That is a different art. That is so beautiful. But my love for it– everyone in Oklahoma started listening to Tyler Childers and that’s when he came around, I want to say in my high school days. That’s when everything took a shift. I was like, “I don’t know what this is…” because we all grew up listening to red dirt [country], which is what I am. But my influence has really changed. In the summer of ‘22, Laurel Cove Music Festival was the first time that I had seen Nicholas Jamerson, Charles Wesley Godwin, Sierra Ferrell, Cole Chaney. That changed everything for me. It changed the entire way that I looked at music, and from that point on I started listening to every single one of those artists. It just led to more.

I love bluegrass and I try to have a couple songs [in that style], but I can’t call myself bluegrass. As much as I love what they’re doing and I try, I have my influences, I’m still red dirt. The way that those artists do what they do, it’s because they are them. I have my influences, but I am still just me. So whatever comes out, it’s just me loving and respecting it. But I can’t fully call myself a bluegrass musician, because I’m not. I’m jealous of it though, I’ll tell you that much. I’m jealous, I wish!

The production style and the different aesthetics that you’re utilizing on the album feel like classic country and old country plus dashes of country & western. There are moments that are really rocking and there are moments that are really subdued. It’s also really modern and crisp. How much of that is coming from you or from the ensemble and how much is coming from your producer, Beau Bedford?

A lot of that was Beau. I learned so much from him. [Before,] I really didn’t ever get the experience of being in a studio with musicians that are just wizards. Beau really took care of me.

It was a challenge, because we recorded in three different places. We were in Nashville, in North Carolina, in LA, and then we finished in Nashville. We were scared that it wasn’t gonna flow together, being in these different studios and then also just having this [group] of songs. Luckily, it all came together and as different as they do sound, they still flow. That was all just luck. We’re all we’re all sitting there going, “Huh? Hope this goes right!” I had my doubts, too, and [Beau] goes, “Wyatt, everything’s gonna be all right, because you are the main character that runs through this entire thing.”

That’s the constant throughout the entire project. I’m just lucky that it worked. When you go from different styles of songs – red dirt, and then you got this beachy [thing], old-time. It’s just crazy how they all go along together. Then it goes into this weird psychedelic rock and “Falling Sideways.” It was a wild adventure, and I’m so grateful for it. I just can’t believe the way that it turned out.

I ask this last question often, especially with people like yourself who are so effortlessly traditional country. There are a lot of folks out there who are excited about you – and artists like Zach Top and Tyler Childers and Zach Bryan – because these listeners sense that there’s this “new movement” that’s going to save country music, that’s going to renew country. That country is going to be what it used to be before “murder on Music Row.”

I wondered what your thoughts and feelings are on that paradigm? Because I sense that you don’t care so much about what is or isn’t traditional or what is or isn’t “inside” country. Does country music need to be saved? Do you see yourself as part of that saviorship? Do you care?

There’s something to be said about it, because yeah– I have my opinions about commercial country. There’s some really good songs and then I also think there’s some songs that say absolutely nothing. I guess as a songwriter, my goal is to keep writing about real shit and keep expressing myself with vulnerability. And to still write good songs.

I have a very important person in my life who’s been a mentor to me; his name’s Shane Lamb. I used to talk about writing these super-poppy melodies. And he goes, “Yeah, it’s because it’s popular music. … Who are some of your favorite artists?” We started going through Tyler Childers, early on in the days of me being in Nashville. [Shane] was like, “Listen to the fucking melody, Wyatt. It’s a pop melody. It’s for popular music. That’s why it works. But his arrangement is country.”

And I was like, “Oh… when you think about it that way, yeah, I guess you’re right.” So, I do try to have poppy melodies as much as I can, but I still try and keep my verses very needy, if that makes sense. I like putting a whole bunch of detail and really trying to focus in on the verses and let the chorus speak for itself.

That’s so perfectly put; yes, country has always been popular music. It’s one of my favorite Tyler Mahan Coe quotes, the creator of Cocaine and Rhinestones, the podcast and the book. He talks regularly about how country music has always been popular music. That’s not to say that fact absolves Music Row and Music City from all the truck and beer songs, but it certainly helps remind us that hand-wringing over “Is country music going to be okay?!” is not something that’s ever going to go away, but it’s also not something we really need to worry about.

And I think for the first time ever with social media, people are able to find new music that’s always been there. They’re just now finding out about it for the first time, because the radio stations aren’t playing it. That’s its own deal. But now they’re able to find all this new music and I feel like country is still going to be country. Like you said, when it comes to beer and truck songs, I think the thing that’s missing is them not explaining what they love about it. They’re just talking about it, not being vulnerable with it.

I think about “Drive” by damn Alan Jackson, dude. That is just talking about driving. That’s really all it is, but the sentiment is there, because it has to do with the father and the son. And then, all of a sudden, there’s the father and the daughter – that is fucking awesome country music that I still absolutely love! I wish that I could do that, like that Zach Top thing. I told him that whenever I met him, I was like, “Dude, I wish I could do it.” I really do. ‘Cause he’s fucking killing it. There’s so many different styles of music and I’d rather just do what I want to do, which is all of them, rather than just settle for one sound.


Photo Credit: Natalie Rhea

BGS 5+5: Evan Honer

Artist: Evan Honer
Hometown: Surprise, Arizona
Latest Album: Fighting For

Which artist has influenced you the most – and how?

It’s hard to pick just one, but the artist that I bring up most consistently is Tyler Childers. He was the first person where I realized how much lyrics mean to people and how much they meant to me. His way with words and how often he pushes his sound to be sonically different with each new project.

What has been the best advice you’ve received in your career so far?

The best career advice I have received so far is to not compare yourself to any other artist and to realize that everyone is on their own timeline. No need to stress about the things you cannot control.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

My favorite memory currently was the last show of my first headline tour. I was so sick during the show and felt so many different emotions, but I was mainly relieved that I had made it through my my first tour. Tour has so many highs and lows, so I was just grateful to get through it.

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

Stroopwafels and Jim Croce

What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?

I love Olivia Rodrigo, I think she is the greatest.


Photo Credit: Harrison Hargrave

Watch Wyatt Flores and Sierra Hull Duet on a Tyler Childers Cover

Last week, before the Turnpike Troubadours headlined the iconic Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison, Colorado, two phenomenal young pickers also on the show bill stepped out into “the house” to perform Tyler Childers’ “Shake The Frost.”

Guitarist Wyatt Flores, a current nominee for the Americana Music Association’s Emerging Act of the Year, and Sierra Hull, Grammy-nominated mandolinist and songwriter, performed an intimate and tender rendition of the Childers hit flanked by the infamous red rock cliffs and backgrounded by the historic amphitheatre’s nearly 10,000 seats.

Flores and Hull demonstrate the timelessness with which Childers writes his songs and lyrics; in this simple, acoustic setting the track listens like an age-old folk song that’s been passed down generationally. With gentle unison vocals on the choruses and subtly interspersed licks and fills, the pair of virtuosos know that less can indeed be more. While they are each objectively shredders on their instruments, another common thread between them is their commitment to giving songs the treatment they deserve – rather than using each and every track they perform as a chance to show off their picking chops.

Hull has long been a technical – and artful – standard-bearer for her generation of bluegrass pickers, while Flores is enjoying something of a meteoric rise after having spent most of his young life touring and performing. Together, they represent the vibrant, genre-blending present and future of country, Americana, and bluegrass.


 

BGS Bytes: Your Roots Music Social Media Round-Up

Welcome to the second edition of BGS Bytes! From up and coming artists on TikTok to conversations the biggest artists are having online, we’re here to round up any important things happening online in roots music — so you can save your thumbs a few scrolls!

In no particular order, let’s take a look back at a few notable highlights from bluegrass and country social circles in the last few weeks.

Spotify Stopped Paying Out to Small Artists On Its Platform

In early April, More Perfect Union reported that Spotify has stopped paying out for artists whose songs don’t top 1,000 streams. While this change won’t impact musicians who top the charts, it reduces profitability for smaller up-and-comers. Of course, this also impacts all genres, not just roots music, a genre that has already historically struggled with a digital era. We might have posted some satirical news about Spotify recently, but this is all too real.

I’m With Her Celebrates the Eclipse

Could there possibly be new music on the way?? I’m With Her posted a reunion photo with all three members: Sara Watkins, Aoife O’Donovan, and Sarah Jarosz, as the golden trio took in the eclipse through solar viewing glasses!

Black Opry Hit Mainstream News Talking About Beyoncé’s New Album

Tanner Davenport, co-director of The Black Opry, spoke with MSNBC in March about the record-breaking album, ‘Cowboy Carter,’ that’s been setting tongues wagging since its debut.

A Star-Studded Cast Paid Tribute to Jimmy Buffet

@amandapaulak the craziest video youll see today #jimmybuffett #maragaritaville #harrisonford #paulmccartney #juddapatow #woodyharrelson #theeagles #pitbull #brandiecarlile #sherylcrow #bonjovi #joewalsh ♬ original sound – Amanda

One of the wildest social media videos you’ll see this week features a surprising crew — watch Harrison Ford, Paul McCartney, Will Arnett, Brandi Carlile, Mac McAnally, Jon Bon Jovi, Vince Gill, and Pitbull on stage singing “Margaritvaille” together. That’s not an exhaustive list, of course, so let us know who else you can spot! It’s hard to count all the celebs in this Jimmy Buffet tribute.

Orville Peck Celebrated His New Release With Willie Nelson

If you missed it, Orville Peck recently released a recording and accompanying music video for “Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other” with Willie Nelson. The video has already racked up more than half a million views on YouTube! Turns out there must be many a cowboy feeling the vibes Peck and Nelson are putting out.

Viewers Have Been Digging Tyler Childers’ Live Performances on TikTok

@itscristal.g Most amazing concert 💓#tylerchilders #tylerchildersconcert #mulepulltour #country #countrymusic #concerts ♬ original sound – ⚡️Cristal⚡️

A handful of Tyler Childers’ videos have gone viral in the last few weeks, including the above that’s racked up more than 179,000 likes and nearly two million views. Hey, we can’t blame y’all for loving his music, especially when it’s performed live!

Gary the Snail Sang “Fast Car”

@ai.concerts This version should’ve been performed at the Grammys.. Gary the Snail sings Fast Car by Tracy Chapman #fyp #aicover #spongebob #tracychapman #gary ♬ Gary the Snail Fast Car – AI Concerts

With nearly three million views, Gary the Snail’s version of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” has been taking over TikTok. Just a silly little cover, you’re sure to get a good chuckle, even if you’re not a huge SpongeBob fan.

It’s pretty obvious — a lot happened in March and the beginnings of April! We’ll continue rounding up the hottest social media conversations and goings-on for BGS readers every month — let us know on social media and tag us in a post if you think something deserves to make the next list.


Photo Credit: Jackson Browne, Paul McCartney, Woody Harrelson, and more perform on stage at the Jimmy Buffett tribute on April 11, 2024 shot by Randall Michelson / Live Nation – Hewitt Silva.

MIXTAPE: Brit Taylor’s ‘Kentucky Bluegrassed’ Inspirations

I grew up deep in the hills of the Appalachian Mountains in Eastern Kentucky where, I’m pretty sure, that on a quiet, cool, foggy morning after the rooster crows, you can hear the faint strumming of a mandolin or banjo echoing through the hollers. My home was near the famed Country Music Highway, Route 23, and that set the bar high for me, even at an early age. With local artists such as Patty Loveless, Loretta Lynn, Dwight Yoakum, The Judds, Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley and songwriters like Larry Cordle, later joined by artists like Chris Stapleton and Tyler Childers, there was always an incredible standard of music and songwriting to strive for. It also encouraged me, because if it could happen for their hillbilly asses, then why not mine?

Kentucky Bluegrassed is a sister record to my sophomore album produced by Sturgill Simpson and David Ferguson. My husband Adam Chaffins and I, along with an incredible crew of pickers (Rob Ikes, Stuart Duncan, Seth Taylor, Matt Menefee, Dominick Leslie) reimagined five songs from the Kentucky Blue album and added three new songs, to boot. Although Kentucky Blue and Kentucky Bluegrassed are kin, they have their own unique personalities and can stand separately as two distinct independent projects. Kentucky Bluegrassed is exactly what the title implies. It is “grassed” versions of some songs from the Kentucky Blue record.

I’ve never claimed to be a grasser, but I’ve always loved the genre. A lot of my favorite country acts growing up either started with bluegrass music and went to country or started in country music and went to bluegrass. My favorite country artists always drew from bluegrass inspiration and instrumentation and blurred the lines of country and bluegrass music. This Mixtape is comprised of songs that I grew up listening to and that inspired the sounds and writing on Kentucky Bluegrassed. Brit Taylor

“Pretty Little Miss” –  Patty Loveless
(Songwriters: Traditional, additional lyrics by Emory Gordy Jr. and Patty Loveless)

It’s 2006 in Prestonsburg, Kentucky, and I’m standing side stage at the Mountain Arts Center waiting for my cue to prance out on stage in an old, ugly vintage dress, silly hat, and no shoes. I always picked Patty songs to sing, whether they were bluegrass or country. I loved them all. During this particular summer show season of the Kentucky Opry Junior Pros, I chose to sing Patty Loveless’ “Pretty Little Miss.” There’s something raw and painfully beautiful about the way that Patty Loveless sings. She feels every note and you feel it with her.

Patty is a wonderful songwriter and a hell of a song hound. She surely knew how to sniff good songs out, and Patty and Emory (husband/producer) knew exactly what to do with them when they found them. Whether she writes the song or finds a great song to sing, she knows how to empathize with the song’s character and you can hear it. Unlike some of her more heart-wrenching songs (like my personal favorite, “You Don’t Even Know Who I Am,” written by Gretchen Peters), “Pretty Little Miss” is funny and fun, plus she wrote it! And she sings the shit out of it. Patty Loveless, like Dolly Parton, knows how to get into character and have fun.

“Busted” – Patty Loveless (Songwriter: Harlan Howard)

Written in 1962 by one of my favorite songwriters of all time, Harlan Howard, this song has been recorded and re-recorded. From Johnny Cash and the Carter Family to Waylon Jennings to Ray Charles and more, this song has been done again and again for good reason. In 2009, my queen Patty Loveless comes along and grasses the hell out of it. Each interpretation of this song is different from the last in pretty drastic ways. That’s one of the things I love about music and production. Music is like water, it can literally fit into whatever mold you want to pour it into. You just have to have some imagination. It’s songs like this that inspired me to write and record my song, “Rich Little Girls.” And it is artists like Patty Loveless and producers like her husband Emory Gordy who inspire me to not be afraid to reimagine a song completely different from its original presentation.

“Truth No. 2” – The Chicks (Songwriter: Patty Griffin)

This entire album is an inspiration for Kentucky Bluegrassed. The songwriting is impeccable as are the production and the playing. The album is full of incredible songs by writers like Darrell Scott, Tim O’Brien, Marty Stuart, Patty Griffin, and others. The tracks could have easily been recorded on a Chicks traditional country record, but I love that they decided to do them this way. I love the melody of this particular song and the extended intro with the fiddle hook. I also love the space in this song. They didn’t fill every “hole” with a lick. They let the song breathe. These are definitely concepts we were mindful of when recording Kentucky Bluegrassed. Where can we let it breathe? What’s the signature lick here and who’s playing it? Heavy on the dobro and fiddle, please.

“I’m Gone” – Dolly Parton (Songwriter: Dolly Parton)

No one can tell a story quite like Dolly. This whole record – Halos & Horns – is a lesson in storytelling. Dolly is always an inspiration. Her ability to connect with her audience through her lyrics, honest stories, and light-heartedness will always be something I strive to do in my own music. This is one of those records that I remember begging my mom to take me to the Walmart in Prestonsburg to buy!

“Big Chance” – Patty Loveless (Songwriters: Emory Gordy Jr. and Patty Loveless)

Lyrics in Patty’s “Big Chance” such as, “Looka here mama, looka here daddy/ This is my true love, we’re gonna get married/ Ain’t a gonna hem-haw, ain’t a gonna tarry/ This is my big chance, we’re gonna get married/” are what inspired me to be confident in my own Appalachian dialect, enough so that I put words like “sworpin’” in my song “Saint Anthony,” regardless of if other people were going to understand it.

“Marry Me” – Dolly Parton (Songwriter: Dolly Parton)

I love the perspectives and simplicity in songwriting on both “Big Chance” by Patty and “Marry Me” by Dolly. The character in Dolly’s song sounds like she might be 13-years-old, hollering to her folks about how she’s gonna run off and marry this new feller! I love that the character sounds so young and also like she just met the boy yesterday. It just lends itself to sweetness and innocence with a light-hearted humor.

I wanted a song about getting married on my bluegrass record simply because my heroes had them on theirs. I love the personality and the very matter-of-fact, bossy lyrics of these songs – and that’s what Adam Wright and I were going for when we wrote my own song, “Married.”

“A Handful of Dust” – Patty Loveless (Songwriter: Tony Arata)

This is another one of those songs that has been recorded again and again by multiple artists and for good reason. It was first recorded by Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris in 1993 and then by Patty Loveless on her 1994 country album. Then she cut it again on Mountain Soul II where she grassed it! Charley Worsham and Lainey Wilson also just released their own version of the song. I honestly couldn’t pick a favorite version if I tried. It’s hard to mess up a song this great. I chose this version for the playlist because it’s grassed and very much an inspiration for grassing several of my own songs.

I realize I have a lot of Patty Loveless songs on this playlist, but that’s because she is honestly who inspired Kentucky Bluegrassed the most. I listened to her songs on repeat growing up and still find myself doing so today. If you have heard Kentucky Bluegrassed and are now listening to these Patty songs from the Mountain Soul records, you will definitely hear some similarities. Rob Ickes, who plays Dobro, and Stuart Duncan, who plays fiddle, who were on both Mountain Soul records also play on my Kentucky Bluegrassed album.

“Don’t Cheat In Our Home Town” – Keith Whitley, Ricky Skaggs
(Songwriters: Ray Pennington and Roy E. Marcum)

Both Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley are from near the Country Music Highway in East Kentucky, and you can hear the hillbilly twang in their voices, especially when they’d sing together. This song is wonderful. The harmonies just kill me. If you want a lesson in singing bluegrass harmonies – hell, any harmonies for that matter – this is the record to listen to and learn from. When people tell me they don’t like bluegrass, I always tell them they just haven’t listened to the right records yet. This is one of the first albums I send them to. The self-deprecating lyrics along with the simplicity of the music with its quirky upbeat instrumentation might seem to be a contradictory songwriting and production combo, but that’s just one of the unique and beautiful things about bluegrass music that I love so much.

“Rank Strangers” –The Stanley Brothers (Songwriter: Albert E. Brumley)

My Papaw Hillard Anderson introduced me to bluegrass music when I was just a kid. Truth be told, he liked to put on a Stanley Brothers 8-track tape, drink a little too much Crown Royal and have himself a good cry – or maybe just raise some hell. One of the two. Man, I miss him. When I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, I got us tickets to go see Ralph Stanley at the Mountain Arts Center in Prestonsburg. I picked him up over on Beaver Creek in my little red Mustang and off we went. I think my driving scared him to death. But it was all worth it when we got to see Ralph sing and play. I was able to charm my way backstage because the volunteer door people already knew me from my singing at the Kentucky Opry. I got my Papaw a picture signed by Ralph Stanley himself.

Papaw passed in 2009. I sang to him and strummed my guitar as he died. I wish he could have been here to hear this record more than any record I’ve ever made. But I know he’s got a front seat in Heaven. When I recorded Kentucky Bluegrassed, I took two of my Papaw’s old, scuffed-up Stanley Brothers 8-tracks tapes with me. I set up a little hillbilly altar with the two tapes, some tigers eye, Kentucky agate, clear quartz, and other crystals, a rabbit’s foot, some incense, and a glass of bourbon. I wanted to make sure he knew he was welcome there with us. He was there. I could feel it.

“You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive” – Patty Loveless (Songwriter: Darrell Scott)

I’ll probably spend the rest of my life trying to write a song this good. Nothing captures where I’m from as much as this one does. It just sounds like East Kentucky. It sounds like the coal mines. It feels like home. The first version of this song that I heard was by Patty Loveless on her first Mountain Soul record. I try to sing it sometimes, but it hits pretty close to home. By the last verse I’m normally in tears. My Papaw was a coal miner, and my husband’s father was a miner, too. Growing up, coal mining was about all there was to do for work around home. So hearing this song just always hits hard.

I hope you enjoy this playlist of tunes that inspired Kentucky Bluegrassed, from the songwriting down to the instrumentation. Songs like these will never grow old or sound dated because they’re too original. They don’t chase any trends of the times. They just are what they are.


Photo Credit: Natia Cinco

Same Twang, Different Tune

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Few words stir up conflict in country music circles the way “authenticity” does. While debates over authenticity rage within every corner of the arts, the tension is especially potent in country, whose unofficial tagline is, after all, a commitment to honest simplicity: “Three chords and the truth.” While “truth” can be a broad umbrella to work under, within country music it tends to encompass a longstanding commitment to sharing the stories and experiences of everyday people, in particular those of the rural working class.

Accordingly, an adherence to and celebration of the very concept of authenticity – nebulous as it may be – is as baked into country music culture as an anti-establishment sentiment is inherent to punk music. Listen to country radio, though, and you might have a hard time finding it, particularly as the bro country of the mid-teens, though finally waning in popularity, still dominates the majority of terrestrial country airwaves.

It’s 2024, though, and it’s way past time to declare that country radio is irrelevant. Glance at Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, which includes sales and streaming data alongside airplay, and you’ll see the top spot isn’t occupied by one of the usual radio favorites like Luke Bryan, Morgan Wallen, or even Luke Combs, the latter of whom has notably found a way to straddle the line between commercial success and critical acclaim.

Rather, at the time of this writing the number one country song in America is “I Remember Everything,” a duet between the relatively new artist Zach Bryan and one of the genre’s more adventurous stars, Kacey Musgraves. As a song, “I Remember Everything” isn’t necessarily groundbreaking. Bryan’s and Musgraves’ voices play nicely off one another, with his achy grit contrasting sweetly with her smooth twang. The production is simple, underdone even, and lyrically the track travels well-trod territory: romantic heartbreak.

So, what, then, has kept “I Remember Everything” firmly situated in that top spot for 14 straight weeks (and counting)?

If you’ve paid even the least bit of attention to country music in the last couple of years, you’ve no doubt encountered Zach Bryan and his genuinely singular approach to the genre. With his raw sound, confessional lyrics, and decidedly DIY approach to business, Bryan radiates the kind of authenticity that fans crave. He joins a host of other recently established and emerging artists – including but not limited to Tyler Childers, Lainey Wilson, Colter Wall, and Billy Strings – who found success by foregoing the traditional route to country stardom, one that typically involves following an out-of-date formula honed over time by profit-driven record labels.

Zach Bryan debuted with DeAnn in 2019, finding an audience online thanks to the viral success of “Heading South” on DeAnn’s follow-up Elisabeth. He quickly built a fanbase on TikTok and YouTube before releasing his 2022 breakout LP, American Heartbreak, which had more opening week streams than any other country album that year. In the lead-up to American Heartbreak, Bryan, who served as an active-duty member of the U.S. Navy for eight years, was honorably discharged in 2021 so he could pursue music in earnest.

In addition to topping charts, American Heartbreak set itself apart from the rest of the year’s crop with its unadorned production, heavily narrative songwriting, and sheer ambition – the record clocks in at a lofty 34 tracks, with less filler than one would anticipate. The album’s biggest single, “Something in the Orange,” earned Bryan a Grammy nomination for Best Country Solo Performance and, for a time, landed him atop Billboard’s Top Songwriters chart.

That record, along with a handful of EPs and loosies released in between, teed Bryan up for his 2023 self-titled LP, a much more focused effort (a mere 16 tracks!) that found Bryan firmly situated as a real-deal country star, one who can tap the likes of Musgraves, the War and Treaty, Sierra Ferrell, and the Lumineers to come join the proceedings. While it no doubt shows the depth of his rolodex, that guest roster also points at the breadth of Bryan’s influence, as each artist comes from a different part of the broader country/Americana ecosystem.

And while he considers himself a country artist, Bryan’s roots are more indebted to the folk-rock revival of the late-aughts and early teens, when acoustic acts like Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers grew so big as to cross over into Top 40, eventually helping spur an explosion in popularity for Americana and roots-adjacent music. It’s fitting, then, that the Lumineers feature on Zach Bryan, joining on the track “Spotless” so seamlessly it isn’t always easy to tell who is singing: Bryan or Lumineers frontman Jeremiah Fraites.

It’s on these collaborations, in particular, that you can hear Bryan’s joy at being able to do what he loves. His vocals are raw, but never phoned in; in fact, sometimes he seems to be straining so hard to communicate a particular emotion that you worry his voice will give out. It never does.

In other words, Bryan is a fan’s musician, one who geeks out about his favorite artists the way his own fans do about him. In a post about the duo the War and Treaty, who joined Bryan on the standout Zach Bryan cut “Hey Driver,” he writes, “I can tell you the first time I heard War and Treaty live and I looked to the person next to me and said, ‘Are you hearing this?’ I talked to them later that night and they were the kindest couple I’d ever met.” In the same post, he says of the Lumineers, “I can tell you about how when my Mom went on home I got the Lumineers tattoo on my tricep after hearing ‘Long Way From Home’ for the first time and how Wes [Schultz] and Jeremiah are some of the most welcoming humans I’ve ever met.”

This post points to a major piece of both Bryan’s appeal and the air of authenticity that surrounds him: His direct line of communication with his fans. He manages his social media accounts himself and is no stranger to getting vulnerable in his messaging, often posting progress updates on new songs he’s working on or taking a moment to express gratitude for his success. For fans, it’s almost like there are no barriers between them and Bryan, which reinforces the relatability at the core of his music.

The beating heart of Zach Bryan, for me, is “East Side of Sorrow,” a song that grapples with hope and religious faith by connecting the grief Bryan felt after losing his mother to his time being shipped overseas while serving in the Navy. Despite – or perhaps because of – these vivid references to specific experiences, like being “shipped… off in a motorcade” and losing his mother “in a waiting room after sleeping there for a week or two,” the song is deeply emotional and relatable, a wrenching but empowering anthem encouraging the hopeless to try to keep it moving. These days, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who couldn’t use such a message, this writer included – Apple Music tells me it was my most-played song of 2023.

It would be – and for a lot of folks, already is – easy to accept Bryan’s every word, to believe that his hardscrabble songs about “rot-gut whiskey” and manual labor are honest reflections of the life he’s lived and the person he is. Then there’s the cynical interpretation, that Bryan’s anti-marketing is, actually, still marketing, that a young musician could only know so much of the realities of the struggle of the working class, that it’s the same twang to a different tune. Bryan has, after all, had a few bumps along his road to fame, including some less than flattering encounters with police that negate his humble personal.

But the truth, as it so often is, is likely somewhere in the middle. With such personal material, it’s easy to trace one of Bryan’s songs to its point of inspiration – “East Side of Sorrow,” for example, is undoubtedly ripped right out of his lived experience. And Bryan isn’t afraid to admit the gaps in his experience, like when on “Tradesman” he sings, “The only callous I’ve grown is in my mind.” Compare that to, say, the sheer tone deafness of a song like Blake Shelton’s “Minimum Wage” and Bryan’s instances of stretching the truth feel trivial.

Bryan is only the latest in a long line of country artists for whom authenticity is both a blessing and a curse. Genre giants like Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings are often held up as unimpeachably authentic pillars of the genre, despite weathering their own brushes with the authenticity police earlier in their careers. And these debates, which tend to center white, straight, cisgender men, aren’t nearly as hostile in their scrutiny as they are for marginalized artists, against whom the idea of authenticity is typically wielded as a gatekeeping weapon.

Wherever you fall on Zach Bryan, it’s hard to deny that the gravel-voiced, baby-faced boy from Oklahoma has changed the very fabric of contemporary country music. What he does with that power moving forward could break the genre open for good, making space for artists with unusual paths, atypical backgrounds and a disregard for the flavor of the week. If Zach Bryan is who he says he is, he may very well do it.


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Photo Credit: Louis Nice