BGS 5+5: Lauren Morrow

Artist: Lauren Morrow
Hometown: Hometown is Atlanta, Claimed town is Nashville
Latest Album: People Talk
Personal Nicknames: “LoMo”

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

When I was 15, I won a contest to sing with a band called Marvelous 3 (now defunct, but formally fronted by Butch Walker) at a massive Atlanta festival called Music Midtown. I think there were something like 90,000 people there, and I was blackout nervous and a total mess the whole day, but as soon as I stepped on the stage, it was like I was possessed. I’d been interested in playing music for a little while before this, but from that night on, it was all I ever thought about — how to recreate that feeling, how to create my own songs that would move people the way music moved me. I guess I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since. Butch and I have been friends since then and I’m eternally grateful for this mentorship on this journey.

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

I was an English major in college with a minor in British & American cultures, so literature (specifically British literature) is a big influence on my music and my writing. It’s not so much that I write specifically about books or stories I’ve read, but I’ve always loved to write, and I’ve always loved words. I spend a lot of time on my lyrics — I want them to make sense and have a point, not to be an afterthought — and I know that comes directly from my love of the written word. I want my lyrics and the melody they’re encapsulated within to feel fluid like the two things are fused together, and I want them to be relatable like you’re reading a book about my life and experiences that you can find yourself within.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I think navigating these last few years with a completed album during a pandemic has taught me the power of surrendering and expecting less. I don’t mean for that to sound depressing — it’s actually quite freeing when you think about it. There’s only so much you can do for yourself as an artist, and I advocate for myself and this record every single day. I do what I need to do, and I work really hard, but at the end of the day, there’s not a whole lot I can control. When you fixate on those things (“Why didn’t that journalist write about me?” “Why wasn’t I asked to play that festival?” “Why wasn’t my song included on that playlist?”), it can really drive you insane and make you miss all of the great things that are happening for you everyday. So much of this industry is controlled by things that are outside of your control, so I just try and put my faith in myself, my product, my team, my tenacity, and the Universe (or God or Source or whatever you choose to call it.) Everything else will fall in line the way it is meant to.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

My favorite band of all time is U2 — a fact that shocks most people when they hear it, but I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a child. Over the years, I’ve gotten a lot of shit for being such a big fan of theirs (thank you Apple album upload!), but I don’t care — their songs, melodies, ideas, shows, all move me in ways that are hard to describe in words. It feels bigger and deeper than me. Sure, all of it reminds me of my childhood, but their songs are huge, anthemic, and meaningful, with something new to discover in every listen. I tried to recreate some of that vibe with People Talk.

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

My old band, The Whiskey Gentry, toured heavily with the band Cracker, and my husband Jason and I became very close with their lead singer, David Lowery, and his wife, Velena Vego. Both are veterans of the music industry, and they offered us some great advice through a really tumultuous and confusing time in our careers. Personally, I was in a place in my life where I thought I’d paid enough dues and I felt like success was something that I’d already earned (little did I know about the years of invaluable growth that were still to come), but David and Velena were both very adamant that Jason and I have other jobs and side-hustles to help us make money while we were pursuing our dreams. This, coming from people as successful in music as David was/is in Cracker and Velena who has booked the legendary 40 Watt Club in Athens for almost four decades. Jason has always had a successful residential/commercial painting business, and I always worked jobs or helped him, and that’s how we’ve been able to keep our mortgage paid, stay on the road, and self-fund the release of People Talk on our own label, Big Kitty Records. I believe there will come a time when we won’t have to hustle so hard in other areas of our lives, but we aren’t there yet. And even if we don’t ever get there, we know the value of hard work and where that’s taken us in our lives thus far.


Photo Credit: Jace Kartye

The Show on the Road – Parker Millsap

This week, we feature a conversation with one of the rising stars in our current roots music renaissance: Parker Millsap, a gifted Oklahoma-born singer-songwriter who grew up in a Pentecostal church and creates a fiery gospel backdrop for his tender then window-rattling rock ‘n’ roll voice.


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When you’ve been touring hundreds of days a year down southern backroads from Tulsa to Tallahassee since you were a teenager like Parker Millsap has, you know a thing or two about how to keep your head when things go off the rails. But it was the forced year-long break during the pandemic that really made him stop and accept how far he’s come from his intense, anxious, folky debut Palisade in 2012, which was released when he was 19. His soulful, self-assured new record Be Here Instead displays a relentlessly hard-working performer who no longer has to chase the next gig for gas money, or has to worry if the world will accept his work. Holed up outside of Nashville with his wife, Millsap let the songs do the talking.

His brawnier, self-titled record from 2014 showed his rebellious electric side coming to the fore, followed by his beloved, fire-and–brimstone bopping breakout The Very Last Day two years later, which confronted our country’s obsession with destruction. Then there was the toothier, glossier, pop-leaning Other Arrangements, which finally brings us to his soulful newest record, Be Here Now. It’s not hard to see that this young songwriter is coming into his prime years. With a new maturity and wisdom behind his writing, standout, incendiary songs like “Dammit” are allowed to unfold in a distortion-dipped, John Lee Hooker meets U2 slow-burn build; never resolving, never relenting while he confronts the tough truths and hypocrisies that are threaded into our modern lives. What is our purpose? What can we do about the violence and greed all around us? Without pushing or preaching, the song is trying to convince its listener to never give up in making our broken world a little better every day.

What always set Millsap’s songwriting apart, though, isn’t just his ability to get us fired up with stomping roots-n-roll hysterics (though he’s pretty great at that), it’s the tender left-turns he takes when he goes acoustic, bringing the volume down and the emotion up. Reminiscent of a southern Paul McCartney, his scratchy, soulful tenor shines most on his gorgeous ballads — think “Jealous Sun” (from The Very Last Day) as his own “Yesterday” or on the newest record, the psychedelic and heart-string pulling “Vulnerable,” which asks us all to try and see our own weaknesses and past wounds as potential strengths.

While it is bittersweet to not be able to kick off his new record release this April with a typical cross-country tour, on April 23 Parker will be playing Be Here Instead in its entirety with his longtime band live on Mandolin — which you can stream from anywhere.


Photo credit: Tim Duggan

BGS 5+5: Griffin House

Artist name: Griffin House
Hometown: Springfield, Ohio; currently resides in Nashville, Tennessee
Latest album: Rising Star
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “Balls” was my nickname, which is part of why I named my 2013 album Balls. I guess you could say it was kind of like a self-titled album. My friend (when we were younger) thought it was funny to add the suffix “balls” onto everything. All nouns, common and proper, including people’s names. Griff-balls apparently had a nice ring to it, since it stuck. Eventually it was shortened to G-Balls and eventually just Balls. It was fun when that album “dropped.” The jokes were endless.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

So many influences, but I think probably Woody Guthrie is the greatest. I do a little more singing than I heard him do, being influenced by guys like Bono and Jeff Buckley, but Woody passed down an American tradition to Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Wilco, etc; his songwriting influenced [and] shaped how we’ve all done things. I relate to him particularly being a guy with his guitar traveling all around America and singing and telling stories about what’s going on around him. He really paved the way for all of us modern day troubadours singing any kind of folk songs.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

One of the first shows I played when I started was opening for John Mellencamp. I was so nervous I told the crowd I was going to go back behind the curtain and “When I come back out,” I said, “Can you just pretend like you are all here to see me and go crazy?” They gave me a standing ovation and went wild before I even played a note. On the last song, I did a victory lap around the audience of 5,000 people and high-fived everyone and then finished the last song. I mostly did it because I didn’t know if I’d ever if I’d ever have an opportunity like that again and I wanted to make the most of it (and have a good story to tell). It felt like something you’d see happen in a movie.

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

Lots of film. I love watching movies and disappearing into the scenes that I’m watching. It’s a great escape for me and sometimes inspires a song. Going to museums and looking at paintings and sculpture is a wonderful joy for me too. I also love books; I majored in English Literature in college and learned to really appreciate writing during that time. Poetry and literature probably have the biggest direct influence.

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

I saw Rattle and Hum and wanted to be Bono, circa 1988. [U2] were just so unbelievable. That set the bar pretty high, but I’m also content just making a living, telling my stories, and being a singer and storyteller playing for smaller crowds.

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

“Yesterday Lies.” I think it took me a couple years to write. But the toughest ones were the ones I couldn’t write at all. Every one I finish is easier than the ones that never happened.


Photo credit: Gabe McCurdy

The Gibson Brothers Still Call It Music, Just Not Bluegrass

Featuring the stunning blood harmonies of days gone by and an abiding love for classic sounds, The Gibson Brothers long ago earned the respect of the bluegrass establishment – even scoring back-to-back wins as the International Bluegrass Music Association’s (IBMA) Entertainer of the Year in 2012 and 2013. Even so, they’ve always cultivated an adventurous spirit.

Having grown up on a dairy farm in the far north of New York State, sandwiched between the Adirondack Mountains and Quebec’s provincial border, their musical appetite was as varied as their home was removed from the bluegrass heartland – from Flatt & Scruggs to Celtic traditionals, and from Tom Petty and The Eagles to French-Canadian fiddle tunes. Throughout their two-decade recording career, The Gibson Brothers have subtly mixed bluegrass reverence with a hint of rock refreshment, but with their new album, Mockingbird, Eric and Leigh Gibson have taken a bold creative departure – at least for the time being.

Mockingbird’s 11 tracks still feature their celebrated close harmonies, but also pull heavily from the countrified world of late 60s/early 70s rock, all masterminded by producers Dan Auerbach (of The Black Keys) and David Ferguson (Johnny Cash’s American Recordings series). Freewheeling and fun, but also rooted in the crisp refinement of their past success, the boisterous rural funk of tracks like “Sweet Lucinda” stands alongside breezy Laurel-Canyon rock in “Cool Drink of Water,” while “Travelin’ Day” explores a trad-country template and R.E.M.’s seminal 90s hit “Everybody Hurts” becomes a swaying example of country R&B.

“The impetus behind the music was that we had done bluegrass our whole career, and when we got talking about the next record, we really just decided we didn’t want to do the same old thing again,” he explains. “It’s not because we were ashamed of what we were doing. We love what we do. There was no intention of anything. This all really happened naturally.”

“I think people love a band where they found them,” banjo-playing lead singer Eric Gibson adds. “But it was so exciting that we didn’t have time to think about ‘Oh, is this gonna upset people who are used to what we’ve done in the past?’ We just dove into the process and had a ball.”

Speaking with The Bluegrass Situation by phone, The Gibson Brothers dug into the inspiration for Mockingbird – and the creative avalanche that followed.

The obvious question here is “What made you want to get away from bluegrass?” But I feel like being from upstate New York might have had something to do with it. Is your approach to bluegrass a little different?

Leigh: We started learning how to play bluegrass when we were 11 and 12, and the guy who taught lessons at our local store played five-string banjo and guitar, among other things. Our father just happened to have both of those instruments, but he didn’t have a banjo because he was into Celtic music. So the guy we took lessons from taught Eric out of the Earl Scruggs method book, and I think that’s what pointed us in the direction of bluegrass.

Eric: Yeah, and once we heard Flatt & Scruggs it really drew us in, but if we hadn’t gotten into the Scruggs handbook, we probably would have played something else.

So what was the idea behind Mockingbird? Do you think of it as a rock and roll album?

Eric: There are definitely elements of rock and roll, but I hear country in it, too. I don’t know where it neatly fits. I’ve heard some people call it an Americana record, but on top of it all I hear the brother harmony. I think it’s that, weaving through a variety of styles.

Leigh: We wanted to do something different, and originally we had some tunes that didn’t fit neatly into the box of a bluegrass band. But we didn’t know we were gonna make a whole album. We were just looking to record some tracks.

Eric: And we ended up not recording any of the songs we were thinking about. We just wrote a bunch of new ones! … When we went to Nashville and started working with Dan Auerbach and David Ferguson, they asked us, “Do you wanna make a country record?” And we said, “Let’s just write songs and see what they need.” They handled the producing chores and did a beautiful job, and came up with sounds that I know I couldn’t have come up with.

You reached out to Ferguson to produce Mockingbird first, and I know he also engineered your first Nashville bluegrass album, Another Night of Waiting. Why was he at the top of the list for this project?

Leigh: [Laughs] Because he’s fun.

Eric: He’s a character and once you meet him you don’t forget him. We’d see him here or there and he’s been doing all kinds of big things in the last 20 years. He’s the one who engineered all those late-career Johnny Cash albums with Rick Rubin. He’s worked with U2, and lately he’s been working with Sturgill Simpson and Tyler Childers. We’d see him and he’d say, “Why don’t you come record some music with ol’ Ferg?”

Leigh: And I’d say “I don’t think we can afford you, Ferg.” And he’d be like, “You’re right, you can’t.” [Laughs]

Eric: But we were riding around DelFest on a golf cart with him in 2017 and he brought it up again, and by fall we were feeling a little restless. We kept listening to records that he worked on in the van, and I think Leigh was the one who said “Maybe we should call Ferg.” I said, “Why do you think I’ve been playing all these albums over and over again!”

So then Ferguson suggests bringing in Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys. Was that a surprise?

Leigh: I was floored, to be honest. Our manager called me and said, “Well, Ferg’s first action as your producer is to bring on another producer, and it’s Dan Auerbach.” [Laughs] So I called Eric and I couldn’t believe it.

Eric: What was funny was Leigh said, “Is this something you’d be interested in?” And I was like, “Duh!” This is the kind of thing that falls out of the sky and you have to go for it.

I read that the whole album was written and recorded in just a few days. Is that unusual for you?

Eric: Yeah, we’ve never worked like that before. … Every day it would be Leigh and Dan and me, plus one other writer. We didn’t go in with any melodies. I had a couple of lines jotted down but we hardly used any of those. A lot of it just came out of conversations we were having at Dan’s studio kitchen table, like “Travelin’ Day.” Dan said, “You know, Ferg lost his stepdad a few days ago,” and we got to talking about that. Ferg said, “He really showed us how it’s done. He was brave at the end.” We said, “Our dad was the same way.”

It’s interesting that you started off with something so heavy, because the album doesn’t come across heavy at all.

Eric: It’s not. That first song is pretty heavy, but there’s a lot of love songs on there, and we hadn’t written a lot of love songs in the past.

Leigh: Dan and Ferg showed us how to love. [Laughs]

“Love the Land” seems like a reference back to you roots on the farm. Where did that come from?

Eric: That was written with Joe Allen.

Leigh: With that song, obviously Eric and I have a background of shared memories, so we’re probably thinking about the same thing as we’re writing it. But Joe’s from Oklahoma and Dan’s from Ohio, so they’re thinking about different things. I remember talking to Dan and he said, “Man, I need to get outside more. I miss it.” It’s kind of funny that it’s wherever your head is at the time. If we sat down with the same guys tomorrow, something totally different would come out.

Eric: Dan loved that we kept showing up early. I’d apologize and Dan would say, “No, no, make yourselves at home.” So we’d go back to that kitchen area and he has this beautiful vinyl collection. We’d put on different records and I think sometimes they would influence the direction of the day. Like, that one has a very Don Williams feel, and I think we were listening to Don Williams that morning.

Why did you pull Mockingbird out of that song as the album title?

Eric: Just because that kept jumping out of my head. Joe came up with the line, something like “Mockingbird, if you haven’t heard / Never been a sound so sweet.” I loved that, so I actually Googled “mockingbird.” [Laughs] It turns out they can sing a variety of songs. They don’t just sing the same thing every day, and I thought “Wow, that’s kind of what we’re doing here.”

I’m sure you’ve been asked a million times, but did the cover of R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” come out of left field?

Eric: Totally out of left field.

Leigh: Just before the last day of tracking, Dan said, “Think of a song from the 80s or 90s that everybody knows but no one would think of you doing.” So Eric and I talked about it on the way back to the hotel and came up with something by a female artist, and we got to the studio the next day and Ferg is like, “So what song did you choose?” We told him and he’s like, “Oh, I hate that song.” Allen Parker, who is Dan’s in-house engineer, said “Hey, how about ‘Everybody Hurts’?” I had heard the song – you couldn’t miss it if you’re a person my age – but I never in a million years would have thought about doing it. Those guys went and charted it, and it had such a comfortable, funky feel, that we were compelled to learn it.

Do you think your fans saw this album coming?

Eric: No. I mean, it’s a hard question. If they’ve really been paying attention to us over the years, it shouldn’t come as a big surprise because we’ve recorded stuff by Tom Petty and The Band and The Rolling Stones and Mark Knopfler. We have a variety of tastes.

Leigh: I think there are certain fans who see you as one thing, and if you do something else it can be upsetting, but no one twisted our arm to do this. It’s absolutely what we wanted to do and we’re proud of it, but we didn’t do this to offend anybody. If somebody is offended, there’s nothing we can really do about that except say, “Look at our track record and all this other stuff we’ve done that you really love. Why not give this a chance?”


Photo by Alysse Gafkjen

Bobby Bare, ‘Things Change’

There was an under-appreciated movie that hit theaters in 1999 called Entropy, starring Stephen Dorff and, strangely enough, the members of a teeny Irish rock band named U2. Dorff stumbles around the reality of a fleeting romance and the pressures of artistic aspirations, but the whole thing was largely lost to film lore as the millennium drew to a close. In it, though, was a quote lobbed by Dorff’s character that has long out-lasted what was otherwise a short shelf life: “There are three truths in life,” he says. “You are born, you will die, and things change.” It’s simple but profound, and true. Things change. They just do.

Bobby Bare, one of country’s greatest citizens and arguably one of its most under-appreciated, is in a unique position to mull this most certain phenomenon: At 82, he’s seen so many other legends come and go, leaving nothing but their songs and legacies behind. On “Things Change,” he explores that certainty, but it’s not all maudlin or morose. Things change to get better, things change and get worse; things change, and time ticks on. But change is also what makes life matter. “If winter bums you out, just wait for spring,” Bare sings, spiking the tune with some lyrical old-time fiddle amongst his well-aged scruff. “In the middle of a drought, just wait for rain.” Bare’s always known something about humanity’s most central truths, and he’s also always been able to see reality with enough humor to help the medicine — or the poison — go down a lot easier. Things change: for bad, for good, and forever.