Tag: Vince Gill

35 Songs That Hate Nashville

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Hating on Nashville – whether Music City, Music Row, Lower Broadway, the tourists, the industry, the traffic, or almost anything and everything else – is a trope and tradition essential to country itself. As long as this town has been a roots music mecca it’s been a curse, too. It’s a maker and breaker of dreams that’s all at once exactly what it is and what it looks like, and a figment of your imagination, too.

On the roots songwriter’s map, it might be the capital city. Flanked by Memphis and “Carolina” and Los Angeles and Malibu and the bluegrass of Kentucky and the “concrete jungle where dreams are made of,” all familiar locales to songsters of all genres referencing places and cities. Places are excellent characters in songs, and we return to our favorite destinations over and over as we relish tracks like “Dublin Blues,” “Eight More Miles to Louisville,” “Big Ball in Brooklyn,” “Take Me Home Country Roads,” and so many more.

But isn’t there just something special about songs that hate Nashville? As a motif, it stands out among songs about places or among places as a trope, in country and outside of it. Songs that hate Nashville can ooze pain or vengeance. They can be aspirational or giving up all hope. But perhaps their real unifier, besides Music City itself, is that each and every song that offers a variation on this theme is really, at its core, declaring a deep love for the town.

In March, country artist, singer, and songwriter Ashley Monroe surprise released an eight-track original album, Dear Nashville. Not quite a concept album – perhaps rather having a concept at its core, instead of as its entirety – it’s an incisive and vulnerable demonstration of Monroe’s love… and hatred of Music City. “I Hate Nashville” opens the album with gauzy pads and a forward-leaning train beat as Monroe sings words that clearly haunt her, and so many like her. Lyrics often uttered by the gatekeepers of the world, the holders of the keys to this city. “They can’t make you a star,” “somethin’ ain’t stickin’,” “pay your dues.”

The rest of the song, though, is something different. It’s exasperated and exhausted, yes. Defeated, almost. But it’s not a hate letter Monroe is writing to her hometown of decades. She sings on the chorus:

Country music
Is the reason I’m alive
Paul Franklin playin’ steel
God knows I love Vince Gill
But I hate Nashville

And wouldn’t you know it, that mournful, heart-wrenching pedal steel singing along with Monroe’s beautiful, East Tennessee voice is played by Paul Franklin himself. Because that’s what Nashville is capable of. That’s what it does best. It makes dreams reality, it makes friends of idols. It can be everything you pictured, but wouldn’t let yourself believe is possible.

Wrote a lot of songs
Made a lot of friends
And if I’m being honest
I’d do it all again
I remember the first time
I saw the skyline shining
Sometimes the road to the top’s
A lot of downhill climbin’

Verse two captures the duality of songs that hate Nashville perfectly. Monroe is displeased with the industry, with the machinations of a community designed to reap profits and profits and profits, and that isn’t so concerned with art or country anymore. But her dreams have come true. She has paid her dues – and then some – and she’s made records and sung songs with Franklin, Vince Gill, Miranda Lambert, and so many more name-droppable peers, heroes, legends, and virtuosos. And, if she’s being honest, she’d “do it all again.” Who wouldn’t?

In each of these 35 songs, you’ll find artists just like Monroe, from across generations and from a variety of backgrounds and origin points inside and outside Music City. Each grapples with these same essential questions of this place. Of Nashville, Tennessee. Struggling with the industry, or Music Row, or the politics of each. Some demonstrate internal battles, others are so external they itch. There are songs that decry capitalism and that long for acceptance by it. There are songs of love lost and romantic haunts turned sour. You may hear someone writing on the outside looking in, or the inside looking out. It’s all compelling, the same but different.

Whatever you hear across these songs that hate Nashville, you’ll hear excellent music and a country tradition so essential to the format it belongs right next to losing your love, your truck, your dog, your house, your job, your… dream of making it in Nashville. Three chords, the truth, and hating Nashville. It’s as country as it gets.

“Heartbreak Town” – The Chicks

“Square people in a world that’s round.” That’s an indictment, for sure, written as only Darrell Scott could. Scott is well-practiced in songs that hate Nashville whether this magnificent track made even more delicious by the Chicks or “Long Time Gone,” also cut by the Chicks and included on this playlist, or even “Hopkinsville,” a Scott original inspired by longing to be done working on the Shelby Street bridge downtown. The Chicks sold the true heartbreak of Nashville on this number even before the city’s central machine turned its ire toward them. As we all know, they survived being on the receiving end of Music City’s ire more than once – and made millions doing it.

“Kay” – John Wesley Ryles

A story song for the ages, and about Nashville, to boot. “Kay” is sung from the perspective of a depressed taxi driver, “I’m living and I’m dying, staring out at Music City, from my cab.” The singer moved his love, Kay, to town to give her a shot at making it big. He’s hearing her record on the jukebox – it “don’t sound bad.” Woof. Gut punch. (At least if she’s gonna be famous, let her sound bad!) The perspective in the song is dynamic and surprising in a modern context, but reminds of how literary and poetic country story songs in the ‘60s and ‘70s could be. And how narratively dense. “Kay” peaked at No. 9 in the U.S. and is Ryles’ best-known record.

“Nashville Blues” – Billy Strings, Bryan Sutton

Out of so many versions to choose from, we chose this one. Can you blame us? Perhaps Bryan Sutton’s joke at the top is the real reason it belongs on this playlist. He introduces “Nashville Blues,” a classic in the bluegrass and old-time canon, thusly, “Here’s a song about Nashville that Billy wrote on the way here stuck in traffic.” The crowd cheers at the joke and a man can be heard responding, “That’s gonna be a long song.” Everybody at the sold-out American Legion neighboring the famous, coveted 37206 zip code laughs. Hating Nashville unites us.

“Ten Year Town” – Hailey Whitters

Speaking of dues, Ashley Monroe’s “I Hate Nashville” immediately brings to mind Hailey Whitters’ “Ten Year Town.” Released in 2020 on The Dream, it drives to the heart of the strange but usual expectations projected by others and ourselves – onto Nashville, careers, dreams, and music- and art-making. What Whitters is really singing about – and Monroe, too, to a degree – is that country music is a trade. Whitters is asking what else she could do besides this, while noting all she’s had to do besides make music in order to make music her trade. But if, like Monroe and Whitters, the trade you’ve plied your whole life or for decades can’t make you a living, what good is paying dues? In investing 12 years in a “ten year town”?

“Nashville Without You” – Tim McGraw

You know what else is country AF? Referencing country songs in a country song. If roots music is going to be one thing, it’s going to be self-referential. All songs about Nashville do this to a degree, but Tim McGraw’s “Nashville Without You” does it remarkably well. Especially for highly stylized mainstream radio country such as this. As a bonus, this is also an “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” sort of love song, where one’s relationship to a place is entirely colored by another person and your shared connection to that place. Ryles’ “Kay” in another generation!

“Nashville” – Indigo Girls

Let’s not forget the folks who have the most reason to hate Nashville – in the music industry and outside of it – have always been women, queer folks, Black and Brown folks, and disabled folks. That’s certainly part of why so many women have written such excellent songs panning Music City. There’s an added layer of truth, an extra heaping helping of grit. 70 cents on the dollar, 12 years to equal the ten-year town requirement.

As an extension of that theory then, being both women and queer as alt-country indie folk artists in the ‘90s is a huge part of what imbues the Indigo Girls’ “Nashville” with honesty and resonance. It’s artful in its lyricism and for painting as much with absence as presence, fleshing out the story by leaving it out here and there. But it’s the perfect song to leave off with, as you continue your listening to the full 35-song playlist below.

Emily Saliers and Amy Ray touch yet again on the maelstrom of mixed feelings musicians and creatives feel about this place, reminding of the central existential love/hate in Monroe’s “I Hate Nashville.” Saliers sings:

I’m leaving
I’ve got all these debts to pay
You know we all have our dues
I’ll pay ’em some other place
I never ask that you pay me back
We all arrive with more
I left with less than I had

The song is so seemingly over-and-done-with Nashville and yet, there’s a crack under the door. The window is not quite latched. A pathway however slight to wiggle back in. You can see it again elsewhere in the song, “I can’t place no blame/ But if you forget my face/ I’ll never call your name again.” Are they singing to a person? To the industry? To Nashville? To all of the above?

One thing we know for sure, they hate (love) Nashville. Just like Monroe. Because how does she close her album, Dear Nashville? It’s how we decided to close our playlist, too. With “Quittin’.” Another song co-written by Monroe with co-producer Luke Laird. It ends:

So much for quitting
I guess I’ll stay on the ride
‘Til the day that I die

We should hope so. There are so many more songs about hating Nashville to write and to enjoy!

Below, sample many more songs that hate Nashville from artists like Marty Stuart, John Anderson, John Hartford, Margo Price, Donovan Woods, Lindi Ortega, Kacey Musgraves, Steve Earle, Kris Kristofferson, Charley Crockett, Dale Watson, Waylon Jennings, and many more.

Additional contributions and curation by Shelby Williamson. 

Photo Credit: Ashley Monroe by Becky Fluke.

Vince Gill Has Done It All (Part 2)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Poaching from Elvis, well over 50,000,000 Vince Gill fans can’t be wrong.

The longevity Gill discussed in Part 1 of this interview has taken him from bluegrass beginnings to a genre-inclusive 50 years as one of country’s most beloved and sought-after artists.

It’s not always been easy, however. No one, regardless of talent or fan loyalty, is immune from freedom of the keyboard and Gill is no stranger to the highs and lows of public opinion. Mostly it’s outpourings of gratitude from the millions whose lives his music touches. Sometimes it’s claptrap about his now decade-long tenure in the Eagles, or venomous spewing over songs like “March On, March On,” from Secondhand Smoke, the second in his series of retrospective EPs being released monthly.

In Part 2 of his conversation with Good Country, Gill discusses, among other things, the aforementioned decade-long tenure with the Eagles, bullying – with a few choice words for those who inflict it – his scrolling habits, and he indulges us in a rapid-fire round of closing questions.

In the arc of this 50-year project, it is not unnoticed that Hotel California turns 50 this year. Do you have memories of listening to that album as a young man, as you now find yourself onstage playing those songs?

Vince Gill: I had all the Eagles records. We did a lot of their songs in my bluegrass days, and it’s completely surreal. I’m starting my tenth year of being in that band and continuing that legacy of songs. What I value most about getting to play with these guys, what I’ve learned most, is how important songs are – all the notes, all the licks, all the riffs, all that stuff. Getting to relearn that at this stage of life has been pretty profound in the way that I’m trying to write songs. I’m patient in the way I write. I’m patient to wait for it to come – the right words, to not settle on anything, and really edit and work and edit and work and continue to try to be mindful of how important the song is.

What I’m mindful of with the Eagles is the tragedy. More important than the fact that I get to do it is that if Glenn had not passed away, I would not have gotten to do this and I’m grateful I’m the one they called. I met all those guys in, I think, 1980, when I was living [in California]. In a million years, would I have ever thought this would have happened? No. But I am careful of how I couch everything, because it came from something tragic and I am respectful of that.

Glenn was a really good friend of mine, actually, and his son Deacon is doing a great job up there of carrying on his dad’s tradition. I think I’m a great fit for them in the way I play guitar and sing, and sing harmony, and play all the instruments I do. I’m not saying I’m better than anybody else they could have gotten. I’m just saying what I do suits them really well.

Jedd Hughes described you as “one of the greatest band leaders I’ve ever worked with. He’s listening to everything and everyone, always, so you can read his cues pretty easily.” First part of the question: Where did you learn to lead?

Because I’m a musician, I think I come at it different and I operate under the mindset that every note is equal. You’re not more important because you’re the lead singer. You’re not more important because you play the lead solo in the song. I value every note the same. Spending my life in the studio like I have, knowing what you play and do has to sit well and play well with others, you have to listen to everybody else.

It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you don’t care who gets the credit. Sometimes people play only to be noticed and that doesn’t necessarily constitute the right thing for the song. They say in Nashville all the time, “Just serve the song.” That’s all I’ve ever tried to do. If someone’s playing something and doing something, don’t do something to distract it. Do something to enhance it, to support it.

Second part: How does that translate to arrangements and contributions from the musicians you work with?

Great players all listen to each other and you’re dealing with a caliber of musicians that already know what not to do, so you don’t have to waste time going, “Hey, don’t play that, that’s too much, that’s not necessary.” Every time I’m in there playing, I take every note, examine it, and make it move me, make it sit just right.

Once again, if you’re playing with that caliber of people, which I fortunately am – my band is usually made up of a lot of studio musicians and amazing players – they like playing with me because I’m a player, too. I’m not just someone up there singing the songs. So I think I have their respect, and that points you once again towards, “What’s the best thing for the song? What’s the best arrangement idea? What’s the best part to play? What’s the best part not to play?” That’s it in a nutshell.

I’m surrounded by musicians that can all play me under the table, straight up. That’s the truth. I’m grateful to have them, grateful to get to play with them, and it makes for a very democratic spirit. Even in the way we record, I’m not heavy-handed. I’m not telling people what to play. Oftentimes we’ll be in there and they’ll say, “Do you like this?” I go, “I don’t have any idea. I’ve never even heard this song before. I know I wrote it, but we’re in here trying to figure it out, so we’re just going to figure it out all together.”

It creates a great spirit in there if everybody feels like they’re all walking on equal ground, everybody has a right to an opinion, everybody has a right to try something, nobody gets shut down, nobody gets put off. It’s an amazing experience. I don’t ever do demos with my songs. I just write them and then I show them to the guys on the floor. I go, “This is how it goes. Let’s figure it out.” They naturally gravitate towards something great and you just follow them off the cliff! It’s wonderful to watch other people’s gifts.

Earlier you described yourself as “the happiest son of a bitch in the world” who just loves sad songs. In that happiness, however, you have experienced much grief. Your faith is strong. Have you ever lost or questioned it during times of loss?

When I think about faith, I don’t think of it so much [from] the religious point of view. I think faith in humanity – more than Baptist or Methodist, or heaven or hell, or any of that stuff. None of these questions have ever been answered, so to pretend you know the answers seems a little, I don’t know, pretentious almost. That might not be a good word. But, no. It all comes from loving deep. The people I love, I love them deeply. They matter to me.

Music is where I go to grieve. It’s where I go to get through loss. It’s where all those things are. I tell everybody it’s cheaper than therapy. I just write about it.

I never feel the need to fix everything in my life. My relationship with my dad, if it was funky or whatever, I said, “It’s not my place to change him. It’s my job to accept him.” Once I could do that, we had a great relationship. You don’t have to be like me for me to like you. You don’t have to think like I do for me to like you.

I’ve been told more often than not, “Why I like your songs is you are able to say what I wish I could say. You are able to express feelings I have that I don’t know how to.” Maya Angelou sought me out and asked me to come and meet her when she was in Nashville years ago. She told me, “‘Go Rest High’ was a lifesaver to me. It helped me get through the loss of my brother.” Those kinds of things make you go, “I’m going to try to find a way to be emotional about things and not only help myself, but help other people too.” I think if you can portray in a story what someone’s going through, you have a chance to make people feel better.

You can’t name-drop Maya Angelou and just go on to the next question! We need to back up a little bit.

She was speaking at Vanderbilt and wanted to meet. [My wife] Amy [Grant] and I went and afterward we got to go back and say hi. She said, “You mean a lot to me, because your song helped me get through one of the hardest times of my life.” It was a great visit.

You’ve released the fourth EP in your series. Which chapter is this and do you know what’s to follow?

It’s uptempo-y and groove-y, kind of like “Liza Jane” and “One More Last Chance” and some of those fun songs. Each record is, on purpose, similar-driven. The record after this fourth one will be a lot of real country-country stuff, real traditional stuff. The one after that is going to be more like “I Still Believe In You” and “Don’t Let Our Love Start Slippin’ Away,” from a more rocking side. I don’t want to say the word “pop,” but it is. It feels like an Eagles record or a Fleetwood Mac record at times. The inspirations are all in there.

The one after that is real bluesy R&B-ish. Are you hip to Lamont Landers? He’s a soul singer from Alabama. You look at him and go, “There’s no way this voice is coming out of that dude.” He does all these really cool things. I found him and I got him to come and sing on one of my songs that’s coming out later in the year. He’s just such a cool dude. I’ve been trying to turn people on to him.

How did you find him?

Scrolling.

You’re a scroller!

Oh, heavily guilty. I tell Amy it’s my TV now instead of channel surfing. Once in a while you’ll come upon a great young musician, or a great young singer, or a great comedian. There’s so many options, and if you stop on something, it’ll start giving you hundreds of things just like that.

The algorithm gets you.

Yeah, exactly. But it’s entertaining, and I found a couple of people to track down and
have them sing on my record because I like what they do.

What do you scroll?

YouTube, Facebook, Instagram. Most of the stuff is pointless, but there’s a nugget once in a while.

How do you handle the cruelty of social media? It can get to anyone, especially when it’s directed toward you.

It can, if you let it. That’s the life we live in now. You can’t go perform and not have everybody have a camera out and put it up and showing it and seeing it. You have a bad night and everybody’s going to rip you for it. It’s like, “How much negativity can you continue putting out there, saying negative things?” It’s never going to stop, you know that, but it’s still entertaining to read.

I read it to be informed and I don’t mind taking it. I’ve lived with critics being critical of everything I’ve ever done. It comes with the territory. If you’re brave enough to stand up there and speak through a microphone, you know you’re going to get judged to some degree. Once in a while, somebody will say something and I say, “That’s fair. That’s truthful.” Other people will say things and I go, “You don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about, but you have an opinion that’s inflammatory towards me, and you couldn’t be more wrong.” I know that, so it doesn’t have an impact.

Sadly, people have to get on there, the keyboard warriors. They think they finally have a voice. Being able to post and have an opinion, they think that gives them a voice. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t. I know that, so I just take it with a grain of salt and move on.

Perhaps being 68 years old with experience and success makes that easier than for a young person just starting out.

People are still critical of me being in the Eagles. They say, “Now it’s a cover band and you shouldn’t be there,” blah, blah, blah. You know it’s coming, so press on. Say whatever you want. Say it to my face and see what happens to you!

I can’t control any of it. I can control me. I can control my heart, what my heart thinks, what my heart feels. If you hate what I do, that’s okay. A lot of people don’t like what I do. I’m used to that. You’re not going to stop me.

Earlier we talked about hope. I just hope people respond. I don’t mind if they respond negatively. You don’t want that, you’d rather not, but it’s funny how you can get a hundred good reviews on a record and one bad and you only remember the bad one. That’s human nature. It’s not a weakness. It just goes to show how being cruel and negative towards someone has an impact.

I think about the times I was in school and was talked to in a negative way, and how it lasted. I remembered it forever. There was a girl I was in a band with for a little bit. She sang in this choir at the school that was really well thought of, and the choir director told her, “You are wasting your time with that guy and his banjo and bluegrass. He’s a fool.” And I just want to go, “Na-na-na-na-na!” But you remember it. And an English teacher that kicked me out of the class for saying something she didn’t like and painted me a certain way. You remember it.

My own kids, one teacher said to my youngest daughter, “My dog has more manners than you.” Things like that … my hundred-year-old mother is still pissed off about that! She’s still, “I’d like to get my hands on that teacher!” We’ve got a good bit of redneck in us!

I watch my sweet wife take slings and arrows all the time and the way she handles it is so beautiful to watch and so inspiring. It’s helped me do the same thing.

Can you play everything you hear in your head?

Probably. I hope so! It’s funny you brought that up, because being a musician and a singer, people say, “How do you get inspired to sing?” or “How do you get inspired to play?” Well, before I play something, in my head, I’m saying, “How would you sing this?” And when I’m getting ready to sing something, I ask myself, “How would you play this? What kind of rhythm? What kind of phrasing?” All those things.

I think the real difference [between] a good singer and a great singer is the way they phrase. Ray Charles could phrase like nobody’s business. Jerry Lee Lewis, when he sang country songs, could phrase like nobody else. George Jones could phrase like nobody else. You go on and on and look at all the greatest singers, and they’re unique because more so the way they phrased than how many notes they sang.

What is the difference between playing guitar and being a guitarist?

Oh, man. I don’t know if there is. I think it’s the same thing. It all comes from the same heart. It all comes from the same ears. I just play what I think fits. I think that’s what being a great guitarist is – playing what fits.

I saw something the other day that said, “I refuse to name who I think the greatest guitar player is,” and it makes sense to me because there’s no such thing. Everybody goes at it in a different way and has a different spirit about it, has a different way they want to play and statement they want to make. Then it becomes a matter of your preference, of what you like best, that defines what the best guitar player is.

I just like people that are gifted, and people that are musical, and they play what’s in their hearts and what they feel. If you feel it like they do, game over. If you don’t, you move on. Not every great guitar player moves me. It might move you. I think we’re lucky that we can be subjective and not have to all feel the same way about the same things.

Let’s close with a lightning round. Anything goes, whatever comes to mind. An album you wish you had played on.

Hotel California.

A song you wish you had written.

“’Till I Gain Control Again” by Rodney Crowell.

A session in which you wish you could have been a fly on the wall.

“Together Again” by Buck Owens.

A concert you attended that made your head spin.

Paul McCartney.

A guitar solo you wish you could claim as your own.

Oh, gosh. I might have to go with a Chet Atkins solo, because he’s the first person I ever saw play live when I was a little boy.

Editor’s Note: Check out part one of our Good Country conversation with Vince Gill here.

Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.

Photo Credit: David McClister

Vince Gill Has Done It All (Part 1)

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Vince Gill doesn’t give interviews; he gives conversations – lengthy, engaging conversations filled with the same reflection and storytelling that make his songwriting so relatable and successful. Factor in his enviable mastery of guitar and other instruments and the result is a well-rounded artist who has won 18 CMA awards, 22 GRAMMY awards, and eight Academy of Country Music Awards.

In 2025, he was presented with the CMA Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award, and this year, on May 6, he will receive the Ken Burns American Heritage Prize. He’s been a member of the Grand Ole Opry since 1991 and in 2005 was entered into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. Two years later, he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Over the course of 21 albums his sales exceed thirty million with 45 chart singles. Coming up is a summer tour, which will wrap with a six-night residency at the Ryman Auditorium, while continuing his ongoing schedule with the Eagles. All of this is only a cursory glance at his many accolades.

Gill’s accomplishments, and the experiences that accompany them, are at the core of his latest project, 50 Years From Home, a yearlong series of monthly EPs marking the fiftieth anniversary of his leaving home to pursue a music career. Each collection features themed new songs and revisited classics, with photos of select guitars on the covers. The EPs are introduced via detailed conversations with friend and colleague Charlie Worsham – watch all episodes on Gill’s YouTube channel.

Down At The Borderline, released February 13, is the fourth and latest EP in the series, while the next installment, Lonely’s What I Do, already arrives this Friday, March 13. A few weeks prior to the release of Down At The Borderline, Gill made himself available for more interviews and conversations, including a talk with Good Country.

At this point, it’s difficult to imagine anything Vince Gill hasn’t done. In fact, there are two key things, neither of which he cares to pursue:

“I’ve never sent a text,” he says, “because I prefer talking to people. What you find out [with texts] is how many people really don’t want to talk to you!” And, “I’ve never posted anything on the internet,” although he does have a scrolling habit, which he gladly admitted to during this discussion.

As you move through endless interviews around these EPs, is there something you’ve always wanted to talk about but have never been asked? Now’s your chance to tell the world!

Vince Gill: I wouldn’t have a clue! I never was much of a planner. I think it’s a blessing that I just live in the moment. I don’t look ahead, I don’t look back much, and there’s not a lot of regrets in my life. I figure the mistakes I made were valuable to learn something. I never planned any of this. I didn’t sit down and have a diary that I’d go, “When I’m this age, I want to have done this and this.” I just answered the phone.

You should probably give classes on that, because this is an industry of nonstop worry: What’s going to happen? Will this work? Will this not work? To move from project to project, stage to stage of your career with that mindset is impressive.

I started out with absolutely not one dollar, so money has never been the reason for any of it. I bought a guitar when I was 18 years old and I moved away from home. It was an old pre-war Martin that was perfect for bluegrass. I spent every dime I had on it and I didn’t worry. I said, “My rent’s $15 a month, I’ll make a couple hundred bucks a week when we work, so I’ll be fine.”

Amazing.

Speaking of going from stage to stage of your career, the EPs are each a chapter told with collections of songs. Tell us more.

The majority of it is fairly new. From the time I started in 1975, there was no reason to have a publishing deal for a long time. Even after I had a record deal, I didn’t see the need because I had a place for my songs to land on my own records. I never partnered up with a publisher, to give away half the money, to give a monthly draw to help pay my rent or whatever. I was able to always pay the rent somehow – my house note, whatever it was – with playing and singing.

Three or four years ago, Jody Williams, who’s a lifelong publisher in Nashville and a friend of mine for 40-something years now, called me and said, “You’ve never had a publisher. Would you consider letting me manage your songwriting for a while? I think you still have a lot to say as a songwriter.” I said, “Yeah, I’ll try that out.”

He would call great songwriters and say, “Would you like to write a song with Vince?” I was never a very good self-promoter, so I would never do that on my own. I just let it unfold with people I would meet. So it started me down this path of writing a lot of music, and over the last three or four years I’ve written twice as many songs as I’ve recorded on this new 50 Years From Home project. I think I’m writing the best songs I’ve ever written. With time you should get better, and I think I have.

I don’t want to check out someday and have all these songs lost in a desk drawer somewhere, so I’ve started recording them all. It’s a different world now, a different way. If you want to release 75 songs, you can do it. You don’t have to have one album with 10 songs on it anymore. So I started thinking about what it would be. My first conception was to release two songs a week, like an A-side and B-side of a 45. “It’s Monday, it’s time for a couple new Vince songs.” The record company came up with the idea of, “Why don’t you do a series of EPs and have six or seven songs on each one?” I said, “That sounds cool. We’ll put one out a month.”

That’s where the whole thing started. I was trying to find a way to put all this out. I realize at this point in my life, I’m almost 69, I don’t have as much time left to be creative as I’ve had to this point, obviously. How much more it matters now is palpable. It really means something to me to be creative, and if I see myself improving, I want to nurture and foster that and continue, because it’s so dear to me, being musical, being creative, coming up with an idea, coming up with a story that could potentially move somebody, touch somebody. It’s unbelievable to be able to have that gift, to be able to do that. So I’m trying to take full advantage of it.

But 68 or 69 today is not the 68 or 69 of our parents’ years. When you’re a kid, your parents turn 50 and it seems ancient.

That’s true. My mom’s a hundred years old.

See? You have many more years to go, especially if you’re still 17 in your head, which happens in this business.

Yeah, and I am. I don’t feel any different than when I pulled out of the driveway and took off. I still have the same love and I’m so drawn to playing music. It’s such a huge part of me. I tell everybody, “My mom’s a hundred and I hope I’m really her son, so I have those genes! For all I know, she might have rented me out of a yard in southern Oklahoma somewhere!” But my dad checked out early. He died at 65 – and I was afraid of being 65. There’s so many instances of people passing at the same age as their parents and whatnot.

I’ve heard from others that it’s a strange feeling when you reach the age when a parent passed.

Absolutely. But my dad drank a lot, he smoked two packs a day, and he didn’t take very good care of himself. I don’t think I have too many of those qualities. I don’t smoke and I don’t drink. I eat bad, but that’s about it.

You’ve stated many times that your goal was always to be a recording musician. With reality shows and social media, do young players have that same goal, or is a lot of it about chasing clicks and stardom? Are you concerned about the future of musicianship?

No, because there are plenty of young kids out there that can play their brains out. There’s so many of them that you don’t worry about it. I tell people all the time, “If American Idol was on in 1948, Little Jimmy Dickens would’ve been on it.” I don’t really care for those shows – and not in a bad way, because a lot of talented people go on them – but sadly, you don’t see that really bear out with a lot of artists coming from those shows that have longevity. They have that moment, but we’re so ready to slide our thumb and move on to the next scrolling thing. It’s the same way with those shows: “The season’s over. Okay, who are the new ones?” And I never like seeing creativity be a contest.

But I don’t worry too much. You see someone like Sierra Hull, who can play better than anybody in the whole world, and Michael Cleveland, and so many that come along that can completely annihilate their instruments. It’s beautiful to watch. I don’t think that’ll ever go away.

Does AI-created “music” concern you?

Of course, but when I’m asked about it, I say, “The people who create it, deep down, they know they haven’t done anything. They know they’ve done nothing.”

As a recording and performing guitarist, singer, and songwriter over a lot of years, how has your approach changed? Your technique, your picking style, your ear, your tone?

It’s a combination of all of those things. I’ve spent the latter years realizing what I don’t need, what I don’t need to do, what I don’t need to play, what I don’t need to sing, what I don’t need to say in the lyrics. To me, the beauty of it is your willingness to try to say the most with the least.

I like my singing better now than I did when I had hits. I much prefer the way I sing and play my songs today. That’s motivation enough, that I feel like I’m better now than I ever was. My ears have never lied to me, and with that, if I feel like I’m making progress, that’s all the reason in the world to keep doing it. If I start wheezing like an old woman, I probably won’t wanna go out there and sing. But, thank God, that hasn’t happened yet,

With music, the more you do it, the more you learn. The point of it is not to impress, but to move people. If you can move people with what you play and sing and write, that’s the real gift. That’s when you really get something that matters out of it, rather than a big “Woo, that was incredible! That was impressive.” That’s fleeting in a way. I like the long haul.

I could have very easily stopped working on other people’s records and being a sideman and a harmony singer and guitar player and what have you. But I love doing that so much, because I always thought it was a harder job to complement somebody and what they’re doing, more so than doing what you want and having everybody follow you. It took more talent to do that – better ears, bigger ears, that kind of stuff. So I continue to do that. I’ve worked on over a thousand artists’ records in the last 50 years. The diversity of that, the willingness to go into any kind of world of music and try, and not just be shortsighted and only do this and only do that – I love all of it. I’ll find something good in any of it. If I can play a part in making something better that’s being done, then that’s a good feeling.

Can you draw a through line from your bluegrass roots to what you’ve done and what you do now?

“When I Call Your Name” wouldn’t have sounded like it did had I not played bluegrass. That high lonesome sound was totally taken out of my love and life of bluegrass. A song on one of my new records [Secondhand Smoke, EP 2] is called “Hill People,” with [harmony vocalist] John Meador – great singer, great player, it just blows my mind how good he is. That sounds the way it does, it was written the way it was, because of my history of bluegrass.

I was never one of those guys that [would say], “I can only play bluegrass and it has to be traditional.” I loved New Grass Revival. They were different than Bill Monroe and I loved it all. If you take whatever’s great about something and cast the rest aside, then you’ve done your job. I’m not critical of young people that don’t do it the way I did it, or the way my heroes did it. That doesn’t serve anybody any good, to be critical of stuff. I remember hearing Billy Strings talk about how he would go to jam sessions and felt unwelcomed, and that killed me. I felt so bad for him.

I experienced that once when I was 17. We were playing some bluegrass festival, a hardcore traditional-minded festival. We were up there playing “Rocky Road Blues,” which is a Bill Monroe song, but we were doing it real bluesy. The promoters kicked us out of the festival and said, “You can’t be playing that kind of music!”

As they were kicking us out, Jim & Jesse were playing Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” I said, “Now wait a minute. We’re playing a Bill Monroe song and we’re going to get kicked out, and they’re playing ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry? What’s cool about that?” They go, “Their suits match. Get outta here!”

I’ve known Sam Bush for 50-something years. The story he tells about Monroe is that he said, “What is it you call that music you play?” Sam said, “We call it New Grass.” He goes, “Yeah, I hate that.” That kills me, but it didn’t impact Sam one bit. But that hardline thing – I don’t go for it.

You’ve said that the role of the artist is to speak for others. Are there songs that speak for you, or to you, in those moments?

I like the things that are the most honest, that are not trying to be something they’re not. I’m not a fan of singers that alter the sound of their voice to make it do something it doesn’t naturally do. I heard Merle Haggard say, “Man, just tell the truth.” That’s where I’m finding the biggest inspiration in songs is being truthful. I think the truth has always been the greatest thing you can lean on.

People talk about country music, and if you could point somebody to what you think country music is, I’d say Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried.” How it starts– “I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole.” That’s pretty dark. That’s pretty sad. And then, “No one could steer me right, but Mama tried.” There’s your hope.

One thing they’ve never taken away from me is hope. Even though they quit playing my records on radio stations and I don’t have hits anymore, I’m always hopeful that something will slide through and move people. I had hope when I made my first record at 16 or 17 years old, and lo and behold, some radio station played it and I heard it in my pickup truck. That instilled a hope in me that’s never faded. They can pass on songs, they can not play them, they can do all that, but they have never dinged my hope in my heart for what it is that I want to try to do.

Where were you in your truck when you heard yourself on the radio for the first time?

I-40, Oklahoma City. I was driving and all of a sudden they started playing “July You’re a Woman.” It’s a John Stewart song and we’d done a bluegrass version of it. I was singing lead. I think some other bluegrassers had done that same song. I’m driving and all of a sudden they started playing it on the radio station and I get on the CB radio and start screaming, “You’re not going to believe it! They’re playing our record on the radio!” Truckers were coming back saying, “Hey, you sound good, kid! Hang in there.” Wow.

The first record I ever made, I heard on the radio. It put that dose of hope in me that has never faded.

Editor’s Note: Read part two of our Good Country conversation with Vince Gill here.

Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.

Photo Credit: David McClister

The Many Perspectives of Rissi Palmer

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Rissi Palmer is putting her lifelong love of country music into Perspectives, her first project in six years. With three tracks produced by Shannon Sanders and a fourth by Dan Knobler, the new EP places Palmer back in the artist spotlight after a period of time focused on personal and professional evolution.

Palmer also hosts an Apple Music country radio show, Color Me Country, which spotlights original music from artists of color. But there’s even more to the story. She’s collaborated on a children’s book titled Color Me Country: A Celebration of Black Women Who Shaped Country Music and she’s also wrapped a memorable tour called The Trailblazing Women of Country, where she performed some of the best-loved songs from Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, and Dolly Parton. Off the stage, she’s devoted more time to her two daughters following her divorce, while still ramping up to the release of Perspectives.

Though she’s based in Durham, North Carolina, Palmer caught up with Good Country in Belfast, Northern Ireland, during the Your Roots Are Showing conference. At the event’s opening night concert, she sang “Old Black Southern Woman,” a heartfelt ballad that touches on the loss of her mother when Palmer was just seven years old. Perspectives also offers a cover of the SteelDrivers’ “Can You Run?” as well as an original song titled “Good For Me” (about diving back into the dating pool) and a rendition of a Loretta Lynn classic, “Somebody Somewhere.”

“All these things came together, and Shannon so graciously decided to be a part of this with me,” Palmer recalls. “He said, ‘Well, two of these songs sound very bluegrassy. What if we just did the whole project like that?’ I was like, ‘That’s kind of dope,’ because I hadn’t done anything like that. And again, perspectives. Two Black musicians, making this very bluegrassy, but still very soulful, project. And I decided midway through that we’re going to call it Perspectives.”

What was on your mind as “Old Black Southern Woman” was taking shape?

Rissi Palmer: I wrote that with Kyshona, and that was our first time writing together. Kyshona has a way of getting straight to the heart of whatever it is that you’re talking about. I had the idea for the chorus, the “ooh-ooooh” thing, in my head, and I hadn’t really started writing anything. So, we sat down and we started talking. When you go to her house, she’s got all these really cool plants from her mom and her grandma. We talked about that, and I wanted to write something that paid homage to my mother but also acknowledged all the other women that came in and helped raise me.

It’s a universal thing, too. Everybody thinks of getting older as really bad, and I don’t know what I thought my 40s were going to be like, when I was in my 20s. I honestly don’t know, but I don’t feel old! [Laughs] I think I thought 40 was going to feel different, but 40 actually feels just like a creakier 25! And I see the blessing in it. I feel really lucky to be here, because I outlived [my mother] and I have babies now. I just wanted to write something that says it’s OK to get old. It’s actually really cool to be able to get old and to see the fruits of your work.

I think the title kind of throws people off because they’re like, “Oh, this is a song about some Black people.” But it’s actually about getting to be old, seeing the blessing and good in that, and making the most of it.

When you sing that song now, it gives you a chance to talk about your mom and share her memory. Is that extra special for you?

Yeah. It was hard, I’ll be honest. The first few times that I sang it were really hard and I would cry. I’m starting not to cry when I sing it. Especially when we get to the lyric, “Every curse my family claimed ends with me.” That’s always where it got hard. You don’t realize how hard it is to overcome and not repeat mistakes.

Was it a dream for you as a kid to become a singer?

I’ve always known. I don’t know how, but I’ve always known that this is what I wanted to do. In that way, I’m very lucky. It was never, “Maybe I should be…” I would say that I was gonna do other stuff, just to make my parents happy, because I figured that they were probably really scared about me wanting to be a singer. So, I was like, “I’ll be a lawyer.” They’ve got a lawyer. My brother is a lawyer, so they got one. So, we’re good. [Laughs]

Now I did not always want to be a country singer. I wanted to be a singer and I wanted to write songs. I knew the kind of songs that I wanted to do, but I didn’t call it that. That didn’t become clear to me until I met my first managers, and then that was when I realized, “Yeah, I guess that is what I want to do.”

Is bluegrass an influence for you?

I like bluegrass! I’m a Rhonda Vincent fan and I’ve always been an Alison Krauss fan. And on Jon Randall’s first record he has this really cool song with Vince Gill called “My Life.” That’s one of my favorite records, by the way. It’s called Walking Among the Living.

I’ve always been a fan. I’ve always listened. I’ve always had those things on my playlist. I just never thought of myself as that, because there’s a very distinct vocal style. There’s a very distinct cadence in which they’re singing. A lot of the people on the show last night [at Your Roots Are Showing] were just brilliant bluegrass singers, and I never thought of myself that way because I can’t do that. Like, that’s not what I do. I didn’t really think of it as something that I could do. I used to write stuff like that all the time and I tried to give it to other people. But it was Shannon – Shannon was the push. Shannon was like, “Let’s do this.”

What was the Trailblazing Women of Country tour like?

It’s one of my favorite things that I’ve ever done. It was an all-female band and it was myself and Kristina Train, who’s a brilliant singer, as the two leads. We split the show in half, usually there was an intermission between Kristina and me, and we sang two songs together. You know how it is to be a fan, but you don’t necessarily know everything by a person? Patsy, I knew. For Patsy, I didn’t even have to study, because I knew all those songs. Most of my Dolly stuff I knew, but there’s a lot of words in “Coat of Many Colors”! And then Loretta, I’ll be perfectly honest, I had not gone super deep into Loretta’s catalog, so that was fun. That was the one that I needed the most work.

And I loved it! We did mostly theaters. I played in places I never went before. I went to Alaska. We did Wyoming – and you haven’t lived until you’ve driven across Wyoming! It’s just space! It’s wild! With the audiences, it was really funny how they varied. Sometimes we would make jokes, and sometimes people would say things to me. Like, someone asked me once, “Where’s your blonde wig?” when we got to the Dolly part. And I was just like, “Did you ask Kristina that?” They didn’t say anything, and I was like, “Girl, why would I cover up my fabulous hair?” and everybody started laughing.

You know, we got some weird comments. There were some people that (gasps) when I walked out. And afterwards, people would say really kind things. I never had anything rude said to me. But I did notice the [look of surprise] at first. It was good for me. It reminded me about why I love country music. I think I needed that, because you spend so much time, like with Color Me Country, talking about what’s wrong with the industry and talking about ways that we’ve been slighted or ignored. Then you lose sight of why you even started this in the first place, and that was why. It’s because of those songs. It’s because of those women. It’s because of the connection that the audience had with that music.

I can’t tell you how many people came up and told me stories. I met one woman who actually saw Patsy Cline performing on the bed of a truck when she was a kid. And I was just like, “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard before.” That’s country music.

You’ve got a lot of things coming up. Where would you like this new music to take you?

That’s a great question. I put so much into other facets of my career for the last few years. I put a lot into my children, because of our changing family situation, and just wanting to be there for them. At the same time, I was wanting to experience the career wave that I was having and trying to balance that. So, my own music took a backseat. I started feeling like, “I think people forget that I sing.” And really what I’m saying is, “I think I forgot that I sing,”

I was still doing shows, and still doing things in between, but it was like, “I don’t want everybody to forget why I’m here.” Really I’m saying, “I don’t want to forget why I’m here.” The Trailblazing Women of Country really cemented that for me, especially the “country” part. I’ve been experimenting and trying different things – and there is a project that comes later – but I wanted to do this. I felt like this was a really important statement to make, like, “This is why she talks so much shit.” [Laughs] Because this is where I started and this is what I do.

Photo Credit: Dire Image

BGS Wraps: Seasonal Musical Favorites

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In our eyes and to our ears, there’s no better family of musical genres to usher in the holiday season than roots music. Bluegrass, Americana, old-time, country, blues, and beyond – they’re all perfectly suited for the coziest time of year, for togetherness, for parties and gift-giving and cookie icing. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Winter Solstice – or even if you feel like opting out of the ruckus altogether – there is roots music for you.

Each year, we like to share our picks for the rootsiest time of the year in BGS Wraps, a weekly collection of songs, videos, albums, shows, tours, and events that celebrate the season. We share a few of our favorites, mostly brand new but often classics and timeless selections, too. Plus, we collect all that we can into a running playlist so you’re ready when the family or party hands you the aux cable.

We hope you enjoy BGS Wraps and tune in the next week as we continue our series celebrating the holiday season. (Catch up on week one here.)

Christmas at the Ryman, Amy Grant & Vince Gill

“When I Think of Christmas” I think of Amy Grant and Vince Gill holding down the holiday fort with their iconic annual Christmas at the Ryman series. This year, they’ll offer 12 performances over eight days at the lauded venue known as the most famous former home of the Grand Ole Opry and the birthplace of bluegrass. Grant and Gill epitomize Music City and how tightly knit this town and its music creators are. There are sure to be plenty of memorable and one-of-a-kind moments across their holiday residency. Limited tickets are still available, so secure yours today. The series begins today, Wednesday, December 10 and concludes on December 20.

“Joy,” Kirby Lyle

Nashville-based songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Kirby Lyle is joined by Maya de Vitry on a brand new seasonal track, “Joy.” Featuring trickling banjos, fiddles, cellos, and guitars in a cozy and grooving 6/8 time, “Joy” feels like a folk holiday mantra, with Lyle and de Vitry singing in a call-and-response style perfect for the often ecclesiastical vibes of this time of year. “Joy” centers the feelings of working class and downtrodden folks in the holiday season, finding radical hope not through toxic positivity but through intention and community. It’s both a sonic and rhetorical antidote for those weary of capitalism and consumerism masquerading as togetherness and holiday cheer.

“Merry Christmas, Baby,” Miko Marks

Does Christmas give you the blues? Well, the blues can cure your holiday blues, too – as evidenced by Oakland-based artist and singer-songwriter Miko Marks’ brand new rendition of “Merry Christmas, Baby.” With twangy resonator guitar and whining harmonica, Marks’ ensemble stomps their way through the deep-pocketed number. The classic form and chord progression are as comforting as Christmas cookies and a mug of hot cocoa, and Marks’ soaring and soulful voice is more than angelic enough for the season.

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” Parker McCollum on CMA Country Christmas

Young country superstar Parker McCollum performed a quintessential classic, “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” on this year’s primetime broadcast of CMA Country Christmas. Flanked by thousands of twinkle lights and backed by brass, strings, and background vocalists, McCollum wore a crisp white “Fresh Western” trucker cap as he brought his trademark country energy to the beloved carol at Belmont University’s Fisher Center for the Performing Arts. If you missed the original broadcast of CMA Country Christmas on December 2 and the encore broadcast on December 9, don’t worry – you can stream CMA Country Christmas via Hulu or Disney+. The single version of the track is also available exclusively via Apple Music.

“Every Season,” MORGXN

On the opposite end of the mainstream country continuum from bro country and country trap you have artists like MORGXN innovating on the genre in similar sonic ways, but without the genre cognitive dissonance, toxic masculinity, or petty litmus testing of the other end of the spectrum. See how much fun, engaging, and innovative country can be with pop and electronic influences from other territories than what we most commonly find on the country airwaves? “Every Season” is the first holiday release from MORGXN, an original song that draws as much upon rootsy textures and tones as crisp and modern software sounds.

We always love when we find new seasonal music that’s inclusive of everyone’s faiths and traditions, too, so we’re especially excited to add “Every Season” to our holiday playlists this year.

Opry Country Christmas

Are you also devastated our Opry 100 Artist of the Month series concluded already? Here’s your solution, as mere days after the Grand Ole Opry’s special 100th Anniversary shows on November 28, Opry Country Christmas began in earnest at the Grand Ole Opry House on November 30. The festive, star-stacked shows will continue through December 23, each performance featuring Opry members the Gatlin Brothers, Riders In The Sky, Mandy Barnett, and Charlie McCoy plus varying special guests each night like Connie Smith, Marty Stuart, Maddie & Tae, the Isaacs, Ricky Skaggs, Marcus King, and many more.

If you’re nearby or traveling to Nashville this December, get your tickets and more info here. Not able to make it in person? Stream Opry Country Christmas on WSM Online and the Opry’s digital platforms, or listen like we do most often, over the good ol’ fashioned airwaves at 650 AM. When you hear Country Music Hall of Famer Charlie McCoy wail through a medley of Christmas carols on his harmonica, you’ll be glad you did.

Snow Globe Town, Brad Paisley

Brad Paisley’s brand new country Christmas album, Snow Globe Town, was inspired by him being asked by Hallmark Channel to write and record music for their brand new A Grand Ole Opry Christmas movie. Paisley has already taken his festive songs to The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and NBC’s “Christmas in Rockefeller Center” – and the album rose rapidly to the very top of the Billboard Current Country Album chart, scoring a No. 1 while it landed on their Top Country Albums and Holiday/Seasonal Albums charts, too. With his signature croon and hearth-hot telecaster licks, Paisley offers brand new numbers and favorite classics. Snow Globe Town has been called “unmistakably Brad” and we certainly agree.

Wrapped in Paper, Sofia Talvik

We’ve enjoyed featuring Swedish singer-songwriter Sofia Talvik’s holiday songs in BGS Wraps over the years. Now, she’s collected all of her Christmas singles and tracks since 2018 into a new holiday album, Wrapped in Paper. The project also includes three brand new tracks, two originals – “Merry Christmas, Adios, So Long” and “Let Peace be the Song” – as well as her version of “Silent Night.” “Let Peace be the Song” is more than apt for the uncertain and extreme times we find ourselves living in. Seemingly a response to the attention economy of social media and the sensationalism of the news cycle, Talvik calls for peace – the true meaning of this season, regardless of faiths or traditions – while wars, conflicts, and political frays are fought all around us. If only peace could be the gift we all give each other this year.

Heart of the Holidays, Tenille Townes

A new three-song EP from singer-songwriter Tenille Townes, Heart of the Holidays, is inviting, cozy, and classic. The collection’s title track is warm and jazzy, with round hollow-body electric guitar tone that feels like a comforting hug. The drum kit shuffles along as Townes gives us an excellent track for all kinds of wintry holiday celebrations. “I love writing and singin Christmas songs,” Townes said on social media, “because it brings out all the jazzy, cozy melodies.” The project continues with “Auld Lang Syne” – preemptively add that to your New Year’s playlist now! – and a lovely three-part harmony rich version of “Go Tell It On The Mountain” featuring Caylee Hammack and Fancy Hagood rounding out the vocal trio. It’s a perfect fit for BGS Wraps!

Lead Image: Miko Marks by Karen Santos; Amy Grant & Vince Gill by Robby Klein; Tenille Townes by Robert Chavers.

How-dee! And Happy 100 to the Grand Ole Opry

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

In 1925, world leaders were signing the final treaties coming out of WWI; Congress authorized work on Mt. Rushmore as a national memorial; the Scopes Trial was held in Tennessee; and the first patent on radio transmission was only 28 years old.

And, in 1925, WSM first broadcast its barn dance – soon to become the Grand Ole Opry.

One hundred years later, the Grand Ole Opry is the world’s longest-running radio program. After a century that saw changes unparalleled in world history, audiences are still drawn to the Opry. Every week thousands make the pilgrimage to the Grand Ole Opry House in Nashville while others tune in around the world. The show continues to inspire new generations of performers to aspire to step “into the circle” on the Opry House stage.

President Jimmy Carter on the Grand Ole Opry stage with Kelly Foxton, Hank Snow, Mel Tillis, June Carter Cash, Skeeter Davis, Bill Monroe, Jeannie C. Riley, and others on October 9, 1980. Photo courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties.

In The Beginning Was Insurance

In the 1920s, Edwin Craig was watching radio stations emerge across the nation – and seeing the money-making potential for sponsors and owners. He convinced Cornelius Craig, his father and founder of the National Life and Accident Insurance Company, that a radio station could sell a lot of insurance.

Soon, the fifth floor of the company’s downtown Nashville building held a radio studio. The call letters WSM stood for “We Shield Millions,” the company’s motto. A program that would become the lifeblood of country music started as a way to promote life insurance.

The hiring of George D. Hay away from Chicago’s WLS was the beginning of the WSM Barn Dance. The 30-year-old who called himself The Solemn Old Judge and started every show with a steamboat whistle would set the tone for much of the Opry’s 100 years – including its name.

Which all started with a clash of cultures.

Some upper-crust Nashville residents complained the only radio they could hear on weekends was string band programming from the dominant WSM station. In response, WSM began carrying the syndicated “Music Appreciation Hour.”

The Barn Dance slot followed the classical program, and Hay, not one to pass up a good line, said, “For the past hour, we have been listening to music largely from Grand Opera, but from now on, we will present ‘the Grand Ole Opry.”

George D. Hay is pictured at microphone with a whistle and Uncle Jimmy Thompson is seated in this 1925 photograph from when the Grand Ole Opry was still the WSM Barn Dance. Photo courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties.

For years, the Shield Men – door-to-door National Life and Accident insurance salesmen carrying the company’s shield logo – introduced themselves as representing the Grand Ole Opry. They would even listen outside windows to see who was tuned in to the Opry – and who would be a likely customer.

The earliest WSM shows relied on local talent, running heavily toward fiddlers and string bands. But Hay would invite whoever he thought the audience would like.

DeFord Bailey, a Black musician grounded in both the blues and old-time string band music, became a regular, wowing audiences with his harmonica. Kitty Cora Cline, the first female soloist, performed on hammered dulcimer, and Fred Shriver played the accordion. Uncle Dave Macon on his banjo with Sid Harkreader on fiddle and guitar set the stage for the comedy that would remain central to the Opry’s success, with songs like, “Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy.”

A Beacon

As the recording industry grew, the variety of musicians available to the Opry grew, as well. The show began featuring brother duets, cowboy music, Western swing and solo crooners. Bill Monroe & the Blue Grass Boys were featured stars for decades.

Opry singers expressed the joys of new romance, the happiness of Sunday dinner on the lawn, the sorrow of lost love, and the loneliness of leaving home. Audiences across America listened – and related. The Opry became a focus of family life.

Dolly Parton, like many rural listeners, grew up without electricity. Her family faithfully listened to the Opry on a battery-powered radio. Waylon Jennings’ dad would hook their radio to the car battery. Jeannie Seely’s family would pile in the car and drive up a hill until they could get the signal. Opry history is filled with stories of musicians who listened as children – and dreamed of growing up to perform, like their idols, on the iconic stage.

Opry member Dierks Bentley, who gracefully moves between country and bluegrass, told BGS, “Being invited to join at all is the biggest honor – especially for me, personally. I grew up listening to all the Opry greats on the radio with my dad, so becoming a member is like having the ultimate backstage pass to see the best musicians in the world. And to be invited by Marty Stuart … hands down, it was one of the coolest nights of my life.”

Dan Rogers, the Opry’s senior vice president and executive producer, said the Opry has always been a place to celebrate the good times and be uplifted during the tough times. “Think about,” he said, “the folks who tuned in on Saturday nights during World War II. That was their only source of entertainment throughout the week.” Minnie Pearl, with her signature “How-dee,” and Roy Acuff gave them respite from war news.

On the first show after the 9-11 attacks in 2001, Rogers said, “Our background singers sang an a cappella version of ‘God Bless America.’ And one by one, the people in the audience stood and sang along. And I remember thinking, I bet everybody tuned in across the country is singing along to ‘God Bless America.’”

The Opry’s response to the COVID-19 crisis created desperately needed connection during a frightening time of isolation.

Just a week after deciding that live audience shows weren’t safe, Opry staff arranged a pared-down streaming production with no audience and a skeleton crew. Longtime cast members Bill Anderson, Jeannie Seely and Connie Smith held down the first night alongside Mandy Barnett, Michael Cleveland & Flamekeeper, and Sam Williams.

For the second weekend of restrictions, veterans Vince Gill, Marty Stuart, and Brad Paisley sat on stools spread out across the stage and pulled off what Rogers called “a beautiful, beautiful show.”

Watching from his office, Rogers started reading comments from grateful listeners. For months, people marked their calendars to tune in. They wrote, “I’m in Europe. I set my alarm. It’s 2 a.m. here, but I wanted to experience this with a community.”

Marty Stuart, Vince Gill, and Brad Paisley perform for an empty Grand Ole Opry House during the COVID-19 lockdowns in 2020. Photo by Chris Hollo, courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties.

Kathy Mattea, the newest Opry inductee, feels those connections whenever she performs there.

People may have sung along to her hit “18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses” in their car or in the shower, but at the Opry, she says to BGS, “Here’s your chance to sit with an audience and sing this song that everybody knows. Nobody knows who the person next to them voted for and it doesn’t matter at that moment.”

“The Ellis Island of Country Music”

In the early days of radio, what was called hillbilly music was as limitless as the range of a 50,000 watt radio station. And the Opry remains dedicated to maintaining those wide open spaces.

Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood, in their forward to the book 100 Years of the Grand Ole Opry, refer to the show as the “Ellis Island of Country Music – a place where all are welcome.”

Contemporary country often has been accused of being homogenous and limited. But despite the factors that have controlled commercial country, the Opry maintains its open-arms attitude. Rogers said, “The two core tenets of an Opry show are celebrating the past, present, and future of country music, and also showcasing multiple genres under the country music umbrella.”

In any show, he said, “You might have something that’s on the top 20 of the country charts today. And you’ll have country classics. You might have a contemporary Christian song, Americana string music, or even something from outside the genre by somebody who just happens to be a country music fan or was influenced by country music.”

In 1974, the R&B-oriented Pointer Sisters included an original country song, “Fairytale,” on their second album. The cross-over hit earned them an invitation to the Opry stage, where they became the first Black group to perform.

Ringo Starr appeared for the first time in 2025 and James Taylor’s debut on November 11 will be remembered as a big part of the 100th anniversary celebration.

And, Rogers said, “Because we can do it, it’s fun to take a chance on a new artist.”

Before his first Opry appearance in July 2022, Zach Top had no hits to his name. But Rogers remembered the programming team saying, “You don’t see an artist like that every day. It sure feels to us like our audience would absolutely eat that guy up!” Today, Top’s music is everywhere.

Bluegrass has been a staple since before it had a name and it has never lost its place on the stage. Bentley and Del McCoury played “Roll on Buddy, Roll On” when the Grand Ole Opry House first reopened after the 2010 flood closed its doors for months.

Charlie Mattos is a 10-year veteran Opry announcer and longtime co-host and producer of WSM’s morning show. He said that on any given night, a portion of the Opry House audience “may truly have never seen a bluegrass band play.”

“And when Del McCoury and the boys finish with an incredible instrumental,” Mattos continued, “or Sister Sadie blisters the stage … the enthusiasm that comes out of that crowd, the immediate standing ovation for the insane musicianship that they have just witnessed …” Mattos said, “it blows their minds.”

Mattea said, “Bluegrass is front porch jazz – the virtuoso playing and the vocals and the harmonies and the trading off of licks. That’s how I fell in love with bluegrass.” And the Opry exposes millions to that brilliance.

A Good-Natured Riot

The Opry show is a complex set of acts and sets requiring precision planning, flexibility, and good nature on the part of the announcers – and commitment on the part of the performers. Rehearsals are brief or non-existent. Timing is everything.

Borrowing a phrase from George D. Hay, the Opry is still sometimes called a “good-natured riot.”

Mattos said, “When you come to see the show live, you see it all. The set changes. The artists leaving as the announcer sends them off. You can see the stage crew out there and usually in 90 seconds they can completely swap things around.”

But while reading a commercial during set changes, Mattos may notice the stage manager giving the “stretch” signal. He might have to keep talking for as long as four minutes – a millennium in radio time.

Sometimes the commercials themselves become the entertainment.

The first time Glad Wags sponsored an Opry segment, Chuck Morgan was announcing. While he stood off-stage reading the dog food commercial, house bassist Bill Linneman came up behind him and started barking. “By my last year there, there were like 20 people behind me going at it,” Morgan said. (The consensus is that Connie Smith does a great chihuahua imitation.)

A Family

Jeannie Seely – who racked up nearly 5,400 performances on the Grand Ole Opry before her passing in August 2025 – remembered it was more than the music that fueled her desire to join the Opry: “That’s hearing these people, like Mr. Acuff and Minnie [Pearl] and Jimmy Dickens and all of them, coming together every week,” she says in 100 Years of the Grand Ole Opry. “They always sounded like they were so glad to be together. They picked on each other and joked, and I thought, that’s just like a family.”

And they were family. When the plane Jim Reeves was aboard crashed in a wooded Nashville suburb, Marty Robbins and Ernest Tubb joined the search party, as did the elegant Nashville socialite Sarah Ophelia Colley Cannon – known as Minnie Pearl.

Opry star Jean Shepard was expecting her second child with husband Harold “Hawkshaw” Hawkins when Hawkins died in the plane crash that also killed Patsy Cline and Cowboy Copas. After months feeling adrift, as Shepard was quoted in the 100 Years book, “I looked down my driveway one day and here come two big black limousines full of the so-called ‘higher-ups’ from the Grand Ole Opry. They said, ‘We want you to come back to the Grand Ole Opry.’ And it really meant a lot to me.”

The family feeling is no accident. In earlier years, Opry members had to perform a specified number of Saturday nights a year. While there’s no set number today, Rogers said they look for a sense of commitment in new members. “It truly is about that relationship,” he said.

Rogers quoted Mattea, upon her invitation to become a member, saying, “These people treat you like family, no matter what.”

One of Mattea’s favorite Opry memories involves a bass player who toured with her. “He was sitting on a stool, playing and singing some old Western swing chestnut, and suddenly Riders in the Sky leaned into the dressing room in full regalia and started singing harmony.

“He was gobsmacked. He felt it was the highlight of his life,” she said.

Bluegrass performer Kody Norris’ music is influenced heavily by first- and second-generation bluegrass. But the band’s preference for flashy suits dates back to a family-friendly welcome Norris received 25 years ago.

His parents took nine-year-old Kody backstage at the Opry, “and I met Bill Anderson. And he had on a red rhinestone suit. That’s the first one I ever saw up close, where I could touch it.”

Later that day, upon meeting his equally rhinestone-clad hero, Porter Wagoner, young Kody got so excited he spit out his chewing gum. Wagoner graciously grabbed two Opry-logoed napkins, one of which the little boy used for his gum. The other one the grown Norris still keeps in perfect condition.

The Circle is Unbroken

In 1974, the Opry left its revered home of decades, the Ryman Auditorium, to move to the deliciously air-conditioned 4,400-seat Grand Ole Opry House.

To honor its longtime home, the Opry crew cut a circle out of the Ryman stage and inset it in the new Opry House stage. The circle symbolizes the Opry’s continuity, respect for the past, and optimism for the future.

Mattea experienced that sense of a completed circle on the day she became an Opry member.

“Suzy [Bogguss] was there. We’ve toured together and sung on each other’s records. She’s my closest artist friend, and she was the only one at the ceremony who was not a member. And I thought how generous it was of her to be there.

“So, while I was overflowing with celebration, to get to invite my friend to the party publicly in the name of the Opry was the sweetest gift. It was a moment I’ll never forget, and I’m going to be there for her induction, too.” Bogguss will officially be inducted as an Opry member in early 2026.

Braid Paisley and Little Jimmy Dickens return the Circle to the Opry stage after the 2010 flood. Photo courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties.

Join The Celebration

There’s nothing low-key about the Grand Ole Opry – so in the classic Opry spirit, fans have had plenty of opportunity to celebrate the centennial all year long.

Earlier this year, NBC broadcast a three-hour anniversary special, with dozens of stars ranging from Reba McEntire to Jelly Roll to The War and Treaty. The Opry also took the show to London’s Royal Albert Hall for the very first time. You can stream clips of these and other Opry events on YouTube and social media.

With the Virgin Music Group, the Opry has produced the album Opry 100, Country’s Greatest Songs (released November 7). Among the unforgettable recordings are Vince Gill singing his heart-rending “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” Dolly Parton singing “I Will Always Love You,” and Ashley McBryde covering the classic “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” You can order the album from the Opry site.

Craig Shelburne, Brenda Colladay, and Opry members and employees collaborated on 100 Years of the Grand Ole Opry, a book filled with anecdotes and photos that vividly illustrate the Opry’s remarkable history. And to teach your children well, there’s also a new childrens’ picture book written by Emily Frans and illustrated by Susanna Chapman. Find them in your local bookstore.

And, on November 28, 2025, the official 100th anniversary of the Grand Ole Opry we all hold dear, the Opry is celebrating with two huge birthday party shows featuring country stars and Opry members like Vince Gill, Ricky Skaggs, Trace Adkins, Dailey & Vincent, Bill Anderson, Jamey Johnson, Marty Stuart, and many, many more. Tickets are available here.

Of course, the celebrations will continue in 2026.

“The Opry is the core and soul of country music,” Bentley said. “It’s a place where the past, present and future of our genre all come together. There isn’t anywhere else like it.”

Continue exploring our Artist of the Month coverage of Opry 100 here.

All photos courtesy of Ryman Hospitality Properties, credits and attributions as marked. Lead image: Bill Monroe & the Blue Grass Boys and the Opry Square Dancers take the Opry stage at the Ryman Auditorium in the 1960s.

Ed Helms Chats With Steve Martin & Alison Brown About Their New Album

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

They always say, “Don’t meet your heroes,” but in the bluegrass world, I’ve mostly found that not to be true. Take Steve Martin & Alison Brown, for instance – two of the most recognizable and veritable banjo players alive today. Earlier this year, I was fortunate enough to join them (along with Rhiannon Giddens and a formidable lineup of bluegrass, folk, and old-time musicians) onstage at the legendary Hollywood Bowl. It was a night I’ll never forget.

And earlier this month, I had the pleasure of rejoining Steve and Alison in conversation about their new collaborative project, Safe, Sensible and Sane, (out now via Compass Records). It’s a beautiful album filled with original songs, guest appearances from musical friends, and a whole lot of banjos.

Hope you enjoy our conversation!

Ed Helms: First of all, let me just say huge congratulations. An album like this is such a big undertaking and this is phenomenal. I’ve been listening to it basically on a loop for the last couple of days. And my family, my kids are loving it.

Steve Martin: Thanks. Thank you. It’s not easy to rope the family in.

I know! My four- and seven-year-old are extremely critical of anything banjo-related. You won them over.

SM: Awesome.

Right off the bat, what jumps out at me about this album is the title – which immediately strikes me as a kind of direct counterbalance or maybe even a rebuke of these unsafe, nonsensical, and totally insane times that we’re living in. I do think that the album title sets such a warm, funny, and welcoming tone that the music then totally delivers on. Am I getting close?

SM: You’re so far. [All laugh]

Tell me what it is. Walk me through.

SM: I’m almost embarrassed to tell you. Alison, should we confess?

Alison Brown: You told us never to tell, but it’s up to you. [Laughter]

SM: When Alison and I were writing songs together, I had come across a book published in the 1930s on how to improve your letter writing. 80 years old, 90 years old, and it had a list of phrases you can use in your letter writing or business letter writing to brighten up your letters. It said things that are formal phrases, like “thank you for the frank statement of your affairs.” And it went on, things like that.

One of them was “safe, sensible and sane.” I just listed these suggestions and I wrote Alison and said, “I think there’s song lyrics in here somewhere.” Alison organized it, so they kind of rhyme, then Alison wrote this tune for it, and Jason Mraz made sense of it. Because the lyrics are actually nonsense, we have noted that the more we listen to it they actually start to make sense in some way.

That is wild. That is such a weirdly specific rabbit hole of where that came from.

Is the banjo itself something that feels safe, sensible, and sane to each of you in some way? Is it a place of home?

AB: For sure. I think so, certainly speaking for myself. It’s definitely been an anchor for me in my life and I noticed, Steve, watching your documentary, how many scenes the banjo was in the background and realizing that it’s been trailing you your whole life, too.

SM: Yeah. I find you’re right, in the sense that it’s not a “dangerous” instrument like the guitar, sure. Which can be naughty. The banjo is safe, sensible, and sane – but the way Alison plays and the way these great banjo [players] turn it into a kind of extraordinary jazz instrument. It’s too bad that most people probably have an idea of what the banjo sounds like and they’re way off.

I think what you’re saying is that the banjo can be edgy.

AB: it can be edgy, but it can be mainstream, palatable at the same time.

SM: Edgy in the sense of avant-garde, yes. There are some. Didn’t you write a 12-tone banjo song, Alison?

AB: I did. I had a chance to produce and play on a track called “Old Atonal Music” and I actually wrote a 12-tone row banjo solo, which–

Oh my gosh.

AB: Which was then analyzed by the classical community. And fortunately it really was a 12-tone row, so that’s about as edgy as you get.

That’s getting out there.

AB: Boy, are we.

This just got so nerdy so fast.

AB: It sure did. I knew that was gonna happen.

The last time I saw you guys, we had the incredible privilege of joining Rhiannon Giddens at her show at the Hollywood Bowl, and I remember showing up to rehearsal for that and you guys were working on what I thought was just “Cluck Old Hen.” I’m watching you and listening and thinking, “What are these lyrics? What is this? This is so funny.”

Of course, now I know that’s “New Cluck Old Hen,” which is on the album. But what I observed that day in the rehearsal stages was just the rapport that you guys share, which seems so easy and effortless, light, fun, and playful – and well earned. It makes me very curious about the origin of your friendship and was it music immediately? Where did you first connect and what was it you saw in each other?

SM: Go, Alison.

AB: Okay, we were on a Caribbean island at the same time by chance, really just by luck. It was a place that we both vacation regularly with our families and I knew we were gonna be down there at the same time that Steve was gonna be down there. We were gonna overlap for a couple of days and Steve suggested we get together for lunch. Of course, banjos had to be involved, so we had a really wonderful lunch and then sat and spent the afternoon playing banjo together, just sonically clicked really easily.

Because Steve and I both really love finding beautiful melodies in the instrument, we’re both in the same pursuit when we’re playing and composing music. Writing this music, it’s been surprising to me how easy it’s been. It is almost like the tunes were just waiting to be written and we just had to pull them outta the sky.

How long ago was that first connection?

AB: I would say maybe about 10 years ago.

Then was it right away, “Let’s start collaborating!” Or did you guys circle back to each other?

AB: It took me a little while to get up the nerve to see if Steve actually would co-write some music together. [Laughs] I got a chance to do a few shows with Steve and Marty [Short] when the Steep Canyon rangers weren’t able to make shows, so we got a chance to jam some more backstage and play some more clawhammer banjo and three-finger banjo, which is my favorite combination. Like chocolate and peanut butter. Clawhammer and three-finger.

I totally agree. It’s so beautiful. And there are a lot of great players that do both, but usually I think most people assume that a song is in an old-time style or in a sort of three-finger style. So to hear [you] two just beautifully mixed together, you guys are really sharing a language that transcends the style of playing. You’re playing very differently, but there is a fluidness.

I think the song “Evening Star,” which might be my favorite on the album, is such a great example of that, starting out with your three-finger, beautiful lilting rolls and melodic runs. Then Steve comes in picking up the same tune in a [clawhammer] style that feels like a really even, woven-in feel. It doesn’t change the feeling of the song in any way. I think that’s a testament to the connection that you guys share musically.

SM: Our roots and love of the banjo are very similar in the sense of Appalachian sound, the Celtic sound, the modal mountain sound. That’s what gets me. We both like to find those melodies that reside within those tunings and history.

And Alison, as I recall, you sent me this beautiful part and I contributed another part and then Alison found– You can tell the story. You found yourself in Dublin?

AB: Yeah, actually that one, I knew that we were gonna be in Glasgow. I dunno if you have ever become acquainted with the music of John McSherry, Mike McGoldrick, and John Doyle, they have a fabulous trio. They’re completely badass Irish players, Celtic players and I knew that it would sound great to play this tune with them. John Doyle in particular, when he plays rhythm guitar, it’s like riding a big wave. They’re also heroes.

SM: They’re heroes of mine, too.

AB: It’s funny, though, because the genesis of that tune was really Steve telling me about a song he wrote called “Canadian Girl” where he was playing clawhammer in 3/4 time. I’d never even thought about the clawhammer playing in 3/4. But it’s so beautiful. Then I tried to write a melody that could work for both.

I think it’s a real testament to Steve’s banjo playing, too – like you were saying, a lot of banjo players will choose a lane. They’re either three-finger or they’re clawhammer. But Steve’s really unique that he plays both. I think that’s part of the reason why our two banjos go so well together, ’cause he completely understands the three-finger thing. But when he’s playing clawhammer, he brings some of that sensibility to it.

SM: You can also play the modality that you find in clawhammer on three-finger. I remember a song I found on a record recorded by Dick Weissman called “Trail Ridge Road” and it was played with picks, but it had this unique– I just call it modality. I’m sorry to keep using that word, but it had this minor sound that just kept rolling. I always loved it. I think that sound stuck with me forever. I even wrote him once to tell him that.

I think your song, “The Crow,” falls in that category, right?

SM: It is in double C. [It has] that drone sound, ’cause you have two strings tuned to the same note. Yeah, that does have a bit of that in there.

That was one of my favorite songs to learn. I found a transcription in a Banjo Newsletter and I was able to work it up and I love it. Another one of my all-time favorite tunes.

SM: Alison told me that banjo players like to play my songs because they’re easy. [All laugh]

How do you guys collaborate? Walk me through that process. Are you sending each other tracks and just saying, “Hey, here’s an idea.” A little melody or a catch or a hook, and then you’re building on it together? Or do you try to make sure you’re in the same space, just steeping the tea together?

SM: All of the above. Garry [West] and Alison flew out to California, where we spent like three, four days there just writing and recording. We got ideas, initial ideas for songs there. Then we started communicating by text and sending song ideas. It’s the new way to write things. It’s everything.

But we did meet and get that sound of two people together. You’re listening to the other player.

AB: That’s the thing, when I get a chance to sit around with Steve and just play, it always gives me more ideas for where we can take the banjo. Or gives me a new way of thinking about what he’s doing that maybe you could expand on. That’s really exciting. But technology’s totally been our friend, so we’ve done a lot of this by just swapping ideas back and forth and it’s amazing how efficiently you can do that.

How frustrating is it that Zoom, the latency of these video conferences, you can’t quite jam.

SM: You cannot play over the internet! You can’t play, you gotta bounce it back and forth.

That’s [why] I flew down to Nashville to record with Vince Gill, so it’d all be in the same room.

You mention flying down to Nashville to work with Vince and others. This album is so much more than just a double banjo album. It’s this grand collaboration. So many special guests, close friends of yours like Tim O’Brien, Aoife O’Donovan, Sarah Jarosz, Vince Gill, Jason Mraz, Jackson Browne, Jeff Hanna, the Indigo Girls – I’m from Georgia, so that’s a huge one for me. I love, love, love the Indigo Girls.

You two obviously have such a deep well of relationships and friendships throughout music. How did you decide who to rope in on these particular songs? What was that decision-making process like?

SM: I’ve said this before, I’m a talk singer. I sing like Robert Preston, The Music Man. I know Alison sings harmony, but she’s never presented herself as a lead singer, as I know. So we’re forced to find someone to sing these songs. A good example is the song “Michael,” which was written without anybody in mind. The lyrics to that are imperfect in the best sense, in a good sense. Sometimes they don’t quite scan out. Sometimes the rhyme is soft.

Alison was at an event with Aoife O’Donovan and said, “Hey, would you mind singing?” And [Aoife] just understood the song so perfectly. You just go, “Oh, that’s it!” There’s no need to look anywhere. She just really knew how to sing it. You’re looking for people who know how to sing these songs. Like Jason Mraz instantly understood “Safe, Sensible and Sane.” He knew that it was in some way humorous, that none of us could figure out why.

Both of those songs have a little international flair to them. “Michael” almost has a samba or Brazilian feel? And then “Statement Of Your Affairs” with Jason Mraz, is it like reggae?

SM: Is it reggae?

There’s something Caribbean there.

AB: It’s definitely Caribbean, yeah.

Really everything sprang from the banjo. The melody for “Michael,” I just wrote that chorus melody as a banjo tune and really could not fathom how you could do anything other than play a newgrass banjo tune with that melody. It was amazing that Steve could set words to it and then he developed this whole story. It was really fabulous.

SM: What I liked is Alison sent me the tune, I listened to it, and it inspired me to a situation, an atmosphere. And she said, “We can change those lines, some of those melodic lines, and shorten ’em.” I say no. That’s what you want, that unexpected line that extends too long or it forces the words to do something tricky. I really like that challenge.

I love your closing number, “Let’s Get Out of Here” [with] Sam Bush, who counts that one in. I’ve heard it said often that Sam Bush is the best drummer in bluegrass. He sets such a great, driving tempo and rhythm.

SM: I couldn’t play without the mandolin! I’d be all over the place, rhythmically.

AB: No, that’s true. There is nothing like Sam’s chop. When Stuart Duncan and I were teenagers, we were presidents of the “Sam Bush Chop Fan Club.” A super nerdy thing.

This is one for both of you. You’re both multifaceted, creative people. You move so effortlessly between different creative disciplines, collaborative contexts, different bands, different musicians, different media and art forms. Obviously, Steve with film and comedy and writing and performing. You’re also a passionate art collector. Alison, you have tremendous business acumen running Compass Records for so long with your husband.

This is a question as a fellow sort of striving, creative person: How do you balance all of it? I always wonder when I see people like you, is this something that you set aside and approach each discipline as a chunk? Or do you feel more like these are constantly interwoven? Is there a seamless overlap of your various disciplines and ideas and you’re just weaving in and out? Or is it more, “I do this for this time” and now, “It’s comedy time. I’m gonna work on this.” How do you break it down?

SM: Go ahead, Alison. I know my answer.

AB: Okay. So mine probably is less interesting, ’cause mine is kinda like that right brain versus left brain thing. I find that sometimes I’ll be doing just banjo for a stretch of time or music or producing a record or getting to go out and play shows. Other times, I’ll be behind the desk doing spreadsheets and financials – that kind of thing. In some kind of bizarre way, the two things inform each other.

I think for me, I spent so many years in school and got an MBA studying finance. I was an investment banker for a while, so there’s part of me that really enjoys doing all that and feels a responsibility to my mom and dad, too, that I do some of that stuff on some kind of regular basis. I have to look analytically at the music business. I think it helps me when I go in the studio to think about positioning a record – whether I’m producing or just writing my own stuff – positioning it for success, because I understand the challenges of the business landscape in a way that if I was just a banjo player, I wouldn’t understand.

Then when I get to go out and play, it’s like a complete relief just to be out and let your mind be a little bit more free. I know you can be structured and disciplined about creating, but it’s a completely different mindset to sit and look at financials than it is to have enough of an expansive view in your mind to be creative for a moment. But, somehow, the two things work together.

SM: I’ll give my answer. Most people have a job. They maybe, let’s say, go to work at nine and they come home at six – or sometimes they work [until] maybe seven or eight. And if they’re gonna do any extracurricular thing, like practice the banjo, they have to do it at night or on the weekend.

But I just wake up. I don’t have a job, so I can have breakfast and have an idea and go pick up my banjo and go play it. There’s a lot of time where you’re just really doing nothing, because you don’t have a job.

I think it really is that concept they used to apply to basketball players, “being in the zone.” Where you don’t have a sense of time. It’s just there and it’s either working or not. And it’s fun, especially at this age where my creative mind is more agile, where I’m not afraid to go other places or think of things. Ideas seem to come without as much angst, because it doesn’t have to be a success. It just has to be fun.

I know Alison hates hearing that. [All laugh]

AB: No, actually. I’m glad to hear that!

SM: The creative part of my life has become really fun. Whether I’m working with Alison or with Marty or live stage shows… or just dinners! Dinners will be fun.

That’s really beautiful and really inspiring and I’m really grateful to both of you for opening up a little bit and talking me through this. Congrats! This is a fantastic album. It’s a really wide pastiche of different ideas and feelings and vibes, and it all works together. So congrats and thank you.

SM: Thank you, Ed. It’s always great to talk with you. And you’re a great player, too. Don’t forget that!

Thanks, guys.

AB: I’m thinking what we need to do is a triple banjo thing!

SM: I’m up for it! We’ll figure it out.

AB: We’ll figure it out.

SM: Fifteen banjo strings. Can’t get enough. You can never have too many.

 

Sex, Drugs, and
Country Music

Posted on by Shelby Williamson

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.

Carter Faith
Carter Faith

Rolling Stone describes young country phenom Carter Faith as “a bright light for the future of country” – but she’s definitely illuminating the genre in the present! Her debut full length album, Cherry Valley, released earlier this month, displaying in full her gritty, fun, down-to-earth, and modern brand of Good Country.

Ghost Hounds
Ghost Hounds

Something special is happening with Ghost Hounds, a Pittsburgh Americana outfit combining blues, rock and roll, alt-country, soul, and much more. Their latest album, Almost Home, features the group’s new lead singer and frontman, SAVNT; a lineup change isn’t foiling this dynamic band, it’s building their momentum. They just made their Grand Ole Opry debut this week!

Vince Gill
Vince Gill

Perhaps our first repeat Ed’s Pick, but Vince Gill is always Good Country, right? The singer-picker-Country Hall of Famer-Eagles vocalist just announced a new series of EPs celebrating his lifelong career in music. The series, titled 50 Years From Home, begins with its first EP, I Gave You Everything I Had, today. We’re so grateful for all the years, all the music, and all you’ve given all of us, Vince!

Nick Shoulders
Nick Shoulders

Singer-songwriter-artist and Gar Hole Records co-proprietor Nick Shoulders is the real deal. He’s part of a broad movement of country musicians recentering the industry, its stakeholders, and its fans so the music better reflects all of the kinds of folks who love it. If you like Good Country that sticks it to the man, seeks justice, imagines a better world, and still sounds like “Grampa Music,” look out for his upcoming album, Refugia Blues (out October 31).

MORGXN
MORGXN

From Broadway in NYC to Lower Broadway in Nashville, MORGXN has done it all, but we find the singer-songwriter-performer thriving as he “reclaims his Nashville roots,” subverts expectations of musical and cultural stereotypes of country, and unabashedly celebrates queerness – especially so on his new twangy EP, Heartland: Part II. More MORGXNs like this in country, please and thank you.

Want more Good Country? Sign up to receive our monthly email newsletter – and much more music! – direct to your inbox.

Photo Credits: Carter Faith by Bree Marie Fish; Ghost Hounds courtesy of the artist; Vince Gill by David McClister; Nick Shoulders by Shelby Merry; MORGXN by Gabriel Starner.

Danny Burns’ Roots Music Journey Through the South

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

My new album’s theme, along with the theme of this Mixtape, is a roots-inspired journey through the South, with songs that evoke the feeling of traveling across its landscapes and into the heart of the Deep South. I hope the fans enjoy the journey of these songs and all the sounds and people it takes to make them come to life on Southern Sky – it takes a village.

That village comes to life across the nine-track journey of Southern Sky, where Irish roots fuse with Southern soul driven by Dobros, fiddles, and rich storytelling that soar with Appalachian tradition and Southern warmth. Inspired by the textures of the South, the spirit of the album is like Allen Toussaint’s Southern Nights, where Appalachian tales intertwine with the deep twang of the South.

Southern Sky features a multitude of musical titans – Vince Gill, Tim O’Brien, Ricky Skaggs, and Sam Bush to name a few – all contributing to the exceptional sound that I strive for. – Danny Burns

“Summer in Siam” – The Pogues

I always loved this tune, growing up listening to the Pogues and having met Shane many moons ago.

“My Old Friend the Blues” – Steve Earle

Steve is one of my favorites. I’ve had the honor to sing with him, open shows with him, and hang on his bus. His songs are epic; this is a great example of that.

“Southern Nights” – Citizen Cope

I first met Clarence Greenwood in New Orleans when I was driving him, Neal Casal, and Jon Graboff (the Cardinals) around while they were playing Tipitina’s. I fell in love with Clarence’s songs and his performances. Another great American artist and songwriter.

“Whenever You Come Around” – Vince Gill

I’m a huge fan of Vince and this track is about as good as it gets. I’ve always admired his songs, his voice, and everything he brings to the table.

“Locals Only” – ERNEST

I first heard this song down in Mexico during the pandemic while hanging out on the beach in Puerto Morelos. It became a bit of an anthem for those days by the water.

“Waiting On You” – Cecilia Castleman

A truly killer talent. Cecilia can play, she can sing, and I’m sure her skills as an engineer and producer are just as strong. This song is fantastic.

“Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground” – Willie Nelson

This has always been one of my go-to lonesome Willie tunes.

“That’s How Every Empire Falls” – John Prine

Epic song written by RB Morris out of Knoxville. I love both versions, but it was John’s take that first introduced me to it.

“The Lucky One” – Alison Krauss & Union Station

What can I say about Alison’s voice– absolutely world-class. Pair that with a world-class band, production, and song and it’s just unbeatable.

“Years” – Sierra Ferrell 

This is pure ear candy. So intriguing and instantly captivating. It feels amazing and sounds incredible. Perfect work!

“Colony” – Damien Dempsey

A heavy hitter in the Irish scene, this track is a prime example of his finest work.

“Settle For A Slowdown” – Dierks Bentley

I really loved this album; it feels like a perfect introduction to where country meets bluegrass with a modern twist.

“Señor” – Tim O’Brien

Love Tim and his take on this epic Bob Dylan song.

“Linger” – Áine Burns

Love Áine’s take on this Cranberries hit – can’t wait to hear more from her before the year’s end.

Photo Credit: Jim Wright

Ashley Monroe’s Patchwork Quilt:
Tennessee Lightning

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

“Let me look at your radar,” Ashley Monroe says, pulling out her phone. “I have all kinds of radar apps on here: 24-hour flight radar, storm trackers…” She types in my location. “Yep, it just popped up red,” she says, forebodingly.

We’re speaking over Zoom about her album Tennessee Lightning and, fittingly, a massive storm is rumbling through New York, with loud thunderclaps sending a jolt through our conversation. Monroe is calling from an apartment in West Nashville, which she rents as a creative space in a building shared by fellow musicians and friends Meg McRee, Ben Chapman, and Lukas Nelson. The weather in Nashville is calm for now, but there’s always the chance another tempest could be brewing.

“For a while there I was like, someone’s gotta get me a bunker. ASAP,” she says.

Tennessee Lightning is her sixth studio album (not including the four she’s released as part of supergroup Pistol Annies alongside Miranda Lambert and Angaleena Presley) and her first since 2021’s Rosegold. The latter found her sloughing off the classic country sounds that defined her early work and embracing trap beats and synthy pop moments. Shortly after the release of Rosegold, Monroe underwent treatment for a rare form of blood cancer, a life-altering experience that she’s still processing. Now in remission, she feels newly awash in creative inspiration, breaking the creative silence that immediately followed her diagnosis.

The resulting album, her second as co-producer with GRAMMY-winning producer and engineer Gena Johnson, is a sprawling, 17-song “patchwork quilt” of songs that range from gritty rockers to moony love songs to bracingly stripped-down piano ballads. It’s less story-song-heavy than her beloved early work, but Monroe says that the album – a mix of new and older originals, along with a few carefully chosen covers – is as personal and revealing as anything she’s ever recorded.

“With every song on this record, I feel and see my own personal story in it,” she says. “Maybe I just didn’t need to put the third parties in this time.”

The release of Tennessee Lightning dovetails with the tenth anniversary of The Blade, Monroe’s GRAMMY-nominated 2015 album, which she recently celebrated with an intimate show at The Basement East and it remains fresh on her mind. She spoke to Good Country about her rootsy new sound, whether it’s safe to call this her Americana turn, and how music helps her weather life’s most painful storms.

I’m curious about the title of the album. It’s interesting, because in many ways, this feels like a homecoming, but then it’s also quite different from your earlier music. How did Tennessee Lightning start coming together?

Ashley Monroe: There’s actually a song called “Tennessee Lightning” that I wrote with Shelby Lynne and Jedd Hughes. It’s awesome, but by the end we had over 25 songs and it wasn’t fitting the album anymore. And at that point, it’s almost like Tennessee Lightning had become me, in a way. It’s just a zap of like, “This is everything. Boom.” Gena Johnson is the co-producer and engineer on this record and a dear friend. The two of us loaded up a ton of gear a couple years ago and rented a cabin in East Tennessee. We went to my dad’s grave, we went to see my Granny and Poppy and drove the back roads in Tazewell, Tennessee. We just immersed ourselves in going back to the roots of it all.

We set up the studio there and she recorded me on the front porch, she recorded me in the yard. We started recording “I’m Gonna Run,” which is a song I wrote in 2004, on the same trip as I wrote “Satisfied” and “Used.” We started with that song, and I was really trying not to overthink anything. I was just letting whatever songs needed to come through, come through. I always say this album is like a patchwork quilt of my life, and that applies to my friends that I’ve asked to play on this record: T Bone Burnett, Butch Walker, Brendan Benson, Marty Stuart, Brittney Spencer, Karen Fairchild. I made a joke the other day, “I’ve called in so many favors, I’m going to have to make new friends to call it more favors.”

I think people may be tempted to call this your Americana record. How do you feel about that?

Great. I’ll take that. Americana has been good to me. A lot of Americana radio stations played “Hands on You” when no one else would, and a lot of other songs. So that’s good company.

Also, I’m from East Tennessee, so no one can really hear my voice and say that I’m not country. It’s just there in the accent and the tenor of it. It’s Appalachia. That’s why I think it’s cool to not do something obvious sometimes, to not cut yourself short or shave the edges off. “I’m Gonna Run” reminds me of when Emmylou did Wrecking Ball, just those weird things she did that I love so much. I’ll take Americana all day.

The sound of this record is quite varied as well.

I guess Tennessee Lightning has different types, but it’s all real musicians, it’s all organic. “Amen Love” I was writing with Ashley Ray and Summer Overstreet, whose dad wrote “Forever and Ever Amen.” We wrote the song for Miley Cyrus, and Ashley’s husband recorded the demo. The song ended up not getting cut, but it just kept haunting me. I always like to do a sexy one, like “Hands on You” and “Wild Love,” so I thought it made sense for the young love part of the record.

Then there’s just me and Marty Stuart and Shelby Lynne on “The Touch,” and that’s as country as anything I’ve done. Gena was really good at getting the raw edges and the breaths and everything. “There You Are” was recorded in one take. It’s just me and the piano. I never did it again in the studio, ever. And then there are other songs that are more polished or have different instrumentation, but Tennessee Lightning to me is like a flash of everything. It’s not just one part; it’s all parts.

I’m wondering if maybe not chasing the country radio thing anymore freed you to explore all these different sounds.

I’m sure it did, even though I will say every label I’ve been on – Columbia, then RCA, then Warner LA and Warner Nashville – I’ve been lucky to have label people who were great at the creative part. My first single was “Satisfied,” which didn’t work, but I love that they chose that. Cris Lacy at Warner was also great at helping me pick songs. I didn’t think anyone would like “Hands on You,” but she heard the work tape and convinced me to record it.

When I got dropped by Warner, I thought to myself, “Now I can do anything.” And it’s been fun to explore. Gena is good about feeling when the spirit is moving through. She knows I like to sing in the dark or with candles. We shut the blinds, and I get to sit in that zone, and she captures it. It’s emotional, it’s raw, and I like recording like that without having to think, “What’s the label gonna say?”

You’ve been called a critical darling pretty much throughout your career. With Rosegold, it seemed like the first time the response was more tentative – warmly received, but not quite as glowing from everyone, particularly the “real country” crowd. Did the response to that record influence your approach to this one?

I really didn’t think about that at all, so that’s interesting. Honestly, though, what I will do next is a honky-tonk record. I know my band, and I know exactly what I’m going to do, which is honky-tonk it to the depths. I haven’t done a live thing like that, and I like switching it up. In my mind, what makes a memorable artist, a true artist, is when everything doesn’t sound exactly the same. Tennessee Lightning just felt like, “What are you feeling? What is it?” It’s cool when art reflects what you’re going through at the time, and for me going back to my roots will always have that earthiness.

I’m thankful for all the great reviews and the “critical darling” thing means a lot, especially as someone who doesn’t win awards or get nominated or included, really, in any circle. I’m okay with that, in a way, because I have a certain confidence — I know I have a gift. I know some people will feel it and some people won’t, but no one can deny I’m doing what I was put on this earth to do. I don’t put too much value on what people think of me, especially now after what I’ve been through. I won’t lose sleep over what a critic thinks.

Another thing that came up with Rosegold was this idea of protecting your joy, of not wanting to feel sadness anymore. Tennessee Lightning has songs that are more cutting – “There You Are” almost feels like it could be on The Blade. It made me wonder if your relationship to your art and this idea of protecting your joy changed between this album and the last one.

You know, when I got pregnant was really the first time I thought, “I’ve got to be careful about what enters here.” That doesn’t mean being delusional or not knowing that things can happen, will happen. Of course, something can always come along and bring you to your knees. But it’s about knowing when everything’s okay and shining a light on it and letting it radiate for a little bit. Rosegold was about hyperfocusing on the good and just letting it beam out for a split second.

I don’t mind if music is sad. I kind of prefer it. With this one, there are some sweet love songs, but also not all these songs are new. “My Favorite Movie” was one Vince [Gill] and I wrote in 2015 around The Blade time. He had it on one of his records, and just never did my version of it. “Hot Rod Pipedream” was written in 2015 or 2016, and “Risen Road” was from around the same time.

Let’s talk about The Blade, which just celebrated its tenth anniversary. You played the album through at a show in Nashville recently. What was it like revisiting those songs?

It was so special because I hadn’t really sung those songs. I’m funny about that – I don’t go back and listen to my old records. It’s not like you forget, but you do move on. Singing those songs, even at rehearsal, I got so emotional.

Did any of the songs in particular hit you differently this time?

I was thinking “I Buried Your Love Alive.” I literally felt thunder. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a ghost in that one. “Bombshell,” too. At the show I was thinking about how relevant it still is. I still understand the emotion in that song.

In the commentary you recorded at the time, you mentioned that “Bombshell” could be about a few different scenarios. It struck me that you said it could be about a breakup, but it could be about telling someone you have cancer.

I remember that. I forgot until you started to say that, but it’s so true. It’s that feeling of like, “This is big news, and it’s going to blow up life as I know it.” It was definitely a bombshell, and then I had to tell people I had cancer.

I was diagnosed in 2021, and when I came into Tennessee Lightning, I knew that I had to step back and reflect. I had to look back at the whole picture. I had someone ask me in an interview recently why I didn’t sing about cancer on the album. It’s like, I don’t want to think about cancer. Music to me is my holy, sacred place. Even though I sing about painful things and I can keep those emotions with me, I didn’t want to think about it enough to write a song about it. Maybe it’s that cancer has already robbed so much from me. I mean, it killed my dad. It’s already affected me, my family. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet. In a way I’m pretending it didn’t happen.

The only place on the record where I did feel the cancer feeling or acknowledgement of my emotions around it was “Jesus, Hold My Hand.” I used to sing that song when I was really young and feeling scared. I really felt it because when I was really sick, with chemo and everything, I felt as close as I ever have to that feeling of handing it over or surrender. It was like I was leaning on the spirit more than ever before.

The hymn is such a stunning moment, in a way that feels different from what you’ve done before. There are a lot of religious references in your songs, but there’s also this thread of religious guilt, particularly on the Pistol Annies songs “Beige” and “Leavers Lullaby.” There’s a lyric in the latter, “It’s as deep as the water that stains me” that comes to mind. Would you say your relationship to your faith has changed?

I can’t speak for the other Annies, but for me the “bite” in those songs is directed toward the people rather than about the pureness of it. The judgment and sending people to hell thing. I grew up with the Bible Belt and I think Jesus has a sense of humor and a lot of church people don’t. With “Risen Road,” it’s like, “You can read the Bible, quote it verse for verse/ You can steal a pain pill out of Mama’s purse.” And when I say “you,” I mean me, because I would do that. I think there’s something to being humble enough to say, “I can believe in God and still be exactly who I am.”

I wanted to ask about that line on “Risen Road,” which of course caught my attention. Between this song, “Best Years of My Life” and of course “Takin’ Pills,” pain pills have become something of a motif in your work. Why is that?

Well, because I was on pain pills for a long, long, long time. My dad died when I was 13, and at the time I was very straitlaced. All my family lived on the same road, we went to church, nobody cussed, nobody drank, nobody smoked. After my dad died, my mom kind of disappeared with a guy. She had a nervous breakdown, really, looking back. He died in February 2000, and she was gone by June.

Looking back, I was flailing. I was devastated, and my mom wasn’t around, and then my brother started having wild, wild parties and I was like, “Hell, I might as well. Give me a Zigma.” Everyone around me had pills and I’d say, “Give me a pill.” I was probably 14 or 15 and my cousin and I would keep a mirror under the front seat and snort oxycontin. Not oxycodone. Oxycontin. It’s a miracle I’m still alive, because I didn’t even know what that was. I just knew that it numbed me out. And, in all fairness, I needed numbing out. I’m not saying it’s the right thing to do, but sometimes, if you can just stay alive – and thank God I did – these things will get you through.

Honestly, though, I don’t think I was ever hooked on them. I’ve never had trouble giving up something when I know I need to. I was on them in my 20s a lot and I was drinking a lot at the time. And then, you know, I OD’d at Saddle Ranch in LA. Like, they thought I was dead. I was like, “Are you crazy? You survive all of that and then let a pill take you out?” So, after that, I quit taking them. But, you know, I took them after my C-section. I took all of them. I just think different people are wired differently and I do think it’s kind of funny now.

“She’s on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take.” I was.

“She likes to pop her pain pills with every little ache.” I did.

It’s interesting, what you said about wanting to feel numb, because the songs that you wrote during that time had so much pain in them. They really cut.

Well, music’s always been where I let my pain seep out. When my dad died, I remember holding my guitar and sitting at the edge of my waterbed, and it was like the guitar was saving my life. It was keeping me together. And I still use music like that – I pour out pain that I don’t even know is in there sometimes. The pain pills don’t get you all the way numb. They get you numb for about 25 minutes, and I needed those 25 minutes back then.

Photo Credit: Erika Rock