Tag: Willie Nelson

MIXTAPE: Elise Davis’ Songs I Love and Why

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Below is a list of songs I think are special and timeless. Some are songs I’ve loved for many years, others are songs I was particularly influenced by during the making of my new album, Cactus. Get ready for a party in your ears. — Elise Davis

Willie Nelson – “Time of the Preacher”

I’ve always loved Willie Nelson but recently had a revival of that love. I decided I wanted to go out to the desert to shoot the album cover so I packed up my car and drove to Terlingua, Texas. I stayed in the middle of Big Bend so there was no cell phone reception, which was appreciated and amazing other than the fact that while driving around in the desert I couldn’t listen to any music other than what CDs were in my car. Turned out I had Willie Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger in my car. I put it in the player and never took it out. The whole week that album was on low in the background and sometimes the foreground and I never wanted to turn it off. The experience led me to dig into older Willie records that I hadn’t heard much, and now I have gone through phases of also obsessively listening to Teatro and Stardust. His voice is one of a kind and he has made so many timeless albums.

Lucinda Williams – “Lonely Girls”/“Ventura”/“Those Three Days”/“Drunken Angel”/“Something About What Happens When We Talk”

This was too tough to name one song. She is my all-time favorite songwriter. I am a huge album person, so I picked songs from my favorite albums but I suggest just listening down to the whole album in its chosen sequence. Like Willie, Lucinda has a one-of-a-kind voice. She always has killer musicians and great production on her albums, which only enhance the songs that strongly stand on their own with just an acoustic guitar and vocal. I am a lifer fan of Lucinda. My favorite albums: Sweet Old World, Essence, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, and World Without Tears.

Aimee Mann – “Thirty One Today”/“Goose Snow Cone”

I have loved Aimee Mann since I was 16. She has such a cool vibe, intelligent lyrics, awesome melodies – it’s good shit. One of my all-time favorite songs of hers is “Thirty One Today.” I’ve had a plan for a long time to book a show on the day I turn 31 and cover it. “Goose Snow Cone” is a track off her most recent album, Mental Illness. This album completely blew me away. The whole thing is so good!!!

Kathleen Edwards – “House Full of Empty Rooms”

When I first heard this song I cried. I was blown away by its beauty. The lyrics are so simply put yet so impactful and heartbreaking. Her voice is soothing. I have listened to her album Voyager hundreds of times over the years and I feel Kathleen is a hidden gem.

Bahamas – “Like a Wind”

This is a current band I really dig. I haven’t caught a show yet but am going to as soon as I can. The songs are catchy, the harmonies throughout are amazing, it’s upbeat and feel-good but has depth and character. My favorite albums: Bahamas Is Afie and 2018’s Earthtones.

Sharon Van Etten – “Tarifa”/“I Wish I Knew”/”Every Time the Sun Comes Up”

Her voice is so unique and beautifully melancholy. I am the kind of person that likes to listen to depressing music when I feel depressed and Sharon’s albums have been a go to for me on the darker days. “Tarifa” and “Every Time the Sun Comes Up” are off her 2014 album, Are We There. That record as a whole is pretty intense and sad, but one of my all-time favorite albums.

Loretta Lynn – “When the Tingle Becomes a Chill”

I am a huge Loretta Lynn fan. She is a pioneer for women in country music and cut so many songs that were edgy, even controversial, lyrically at the time. And I love that. This was hard to pick one, but I chose “When the Tingle Becomes a Chill.” She is singing about when a husband comes home at night and gets in bed, what used to be a tingle of sexual desire is now replaced with a chill. It’s real, and raw, and that’s what I’m all about.

Harry Nilsson – “Everybody’s Talkin”

To me this is one of the most beautiful songs ever recorded. I have spun this hundreds of times. His music was authentic and he was a true artist.

Tom Petty – “Time to Move On”

As with most of the artists I am naming here, one song is really hard to pin down as a favorite. I chose this song because during the time of recording my new album, Cactus, I was obsessively listening to Tom’s album, Wildflowers. It is one of those records you can just let roll through the whole thing over and over. I love the freeing mood of “Time to Move On.” It makes you want to go on a drive, roll the windows down, and let go of all the bullshit you’ve been carrying around.

Wilco – “Jesus, Etc.”

I had to include a Wilco song because I have loved this band for a long time. They have their own sound, clever lyrics, and just an overall great band. This was one of the first songs that got me into them so I chose this one. Others I really love “How to Fight Loneliness,” “Please Be Patient with Me,” and “Hate It Here.” My favorite albums: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Summer Teeth, and Sky Blue Sky.

Sheryl Crow – “Maybe Angels”

This song is off of Sheryl’s massively famous self-titled album, which includes mega hits such as “If It Makes You Happy,” “Every Day Is a Winding Road” and “A Change Would Do You Good.” But to me every song on that record is fuckin’ timeless. I have said this many times over the years and still wholeheartedly stand behind it: I think if this record came out today it would have the same amount of success. It’s just that good. She was a big influence to me as a 12-year-old learning to play guitar and beginning to write songs, and still as an adult this album is a classic and one of my all-time favorite albums.

Photo credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Dawes’ Taylor Goldsmith, The Over-Sharing Songwriter

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Taylor Goldsmith is done trying to be cool.

“I feel like there’s an aversion to sentimentality in 2018,” the Dawes frontman (pictured far right) says from his home in Los Angeles. “And I think for a long time I wanted to try to figure out a way to play by those rules. I would write the songs in a certain way; I would maybe even carry myself onstage in a certain way because I was aware of that fact. There was a coolness that had always been there I guess to varying degrees, but I feel like now more than ever it’s important that if you’re a guy in a band, you have to not mean what you say, not know what it means, you have to kind of keep your ballcap pulled down as far as it can go and just kind of recede into the shadows of coolness. And as time goes on and when I feel most myself, I find that just not who I am, and I’m never gonna be.”

That self-awareness is evident on Passwords, the band’s sixth record. It’s an outward-looking album, one that deals with modern themes ranging from the current political climate to social media’s effect on our lives, but it also sees Goldsmith stretching his wings as a songwriter by both pushing himself out of his comfort zone and leaning in to an emotionality that has always been a part of Dawes’ oeuvre.

Case in point: the lovely “Never Gonna Say Goodbye,” written for his fiancée, the actress Mandy Moore. That song poured out of him one night while he was on tour in Detroit. (“Songs typically don’t come out that fast for me,” he says. “They take a good month or two sometimes.”) It was meant as a private “I miss you,” and Goldsmith never intended for it to be heard by anyone besides Moore until she and his brother Griffin convinced him it belonged on the record.

“The main thing [I struggled with] really was the sort of lover’s language that’s really nobody’s business, like the way anyone speaks to the person they’re with when they’re going to bed at night or waking up in the morning or the way they look at each other,” Goldsmith says. “That is the most sacred, private world that I would never dream of wanting any access to. So for me, I was like, ‘Man, this is a very vulnerable moment for me, to say “I love you and I miss you.”‘ It was just a quick thing and I didn’t really want everyone to be eavesdropping, you know? But that ended up being what I liked about it. Because it was like, ‘Okay, what is art? What is music supposed to be other than sharing these personal attitudes that can resonate with someone else?'”

Producer Jonathan Wilson, who worked with the band on their first two records and reunited with them on Passwords, helped Goldsmith feel that he made the right choice about “Never Gonna Say Goodbye” when they got into the studio to record it.

“I was talking to Jonathan about it, and I was like ‘Is this song a little too…much?'” he explains. “I feel like we would all love it if Willie Nelson recorded it in 1973 maybe, but in 2018 is that acceptable now? And Jonathan was like, ‘That’s exactly why I like this song so much. That’s exactly why this should be on the record, because people don’t have the guts to go to this more vulnerable and intimate and earnest place.’ And so that’s something that I used to be scared of because I wanted to be this sort of obtuse artist that was impenetrable because that’s what I’ve always admired in songwriters, but the reality is I’m never gonna be that. The more I embrace what comes out naturally, the better it all feels.”

That approach helped him unlock the album’s themes; though Passwords is not a concept record, its songs share a commonality that make it feel cohesive and uniquely tethered to life in 2018. Goldsmith credits “Crack the Case,” a call for empathy in a time when our country is more divided than ever, with helping him find a direction for the rest of the album’s tracks.

“Oftentimes I find that the themes and ideas present themselves,” he says. “‘Most People’ and ‘Things Happen’ are pretty much about the same thing, and I think that’s pretty cool. I think that’s indicative of a certain attitude being consistent, or something that was really on my mind. Or when I listen to ‘Born to Run’ and ‘Thunder Road,’ one’s almost a continuation of the other, but it’s something that I love about those two songs and that time in Bruce Springsteen’s career, where ‘there’s a better world out there and get on my motorcycle and I’m gonna take you there.'”

He laughs. “In every Bruce Springsteen song, it becomes the identifying mark. It becomes the fingerprint. So with this album, after writing ‘Crack the Case’ and then all of a sudden writing ‘Living in the Future,’ in a way it’s like these songs are about the same thing. One of them comes from a much more paranoid place, but it’s still in the chorus like ‘we’re living in the future, so shine a little light.’ That line could be in ‘Crack the Case.’ So the way that certain songs would bleed into each other and kind of play different angles of the same conversation, that’s something I didn’t think about until it was all written.”

But his plea for entertaining other perspectives on “Crack the Case” isn’t just directed at others. As he gets older, he has challenged himself to get out of his own head and try writing more through the eyes of others, whether it’s the fear and resignation of “Stay Down” or the weariness of “Feed the Fire,” where he’s “working for attention I’ll eventually resent.” (“The song is in this mode of ‘I,’ it’s in first person, but it’s not representative of how I feel,” he says.)

“I think that as time goes on, like anything, anyone who does anything for a living, there become things where you feel like, ‘Cool, I did that and I don’t want to do it anymore because I know how to do it now. I wanna do something that I don’t know how to do,'” he explains. “And for a long time certain approaches to songwriting or to song structures became what I would go back to because that’s what I wanted to learn how to do, especially like ‘Coming Back to a Man’ or ‘That Western Skyline,’ songs that I’m very proud of but also songs that were sort of building blocks for me to take those concepts and then follow into the way I speak as an adult rather than a young guy looking to be a songwriter. There’s a lot of talk of like sunsets and mountains and rivers on our first few records.”

He laughs before continuing, “It is very songwriterly. And that’s because I was learning the language, and as time has gone on, I’ve been trying to figure out how to find the lyrical, find the song in something that otherwise wouldn’t seem like one, you know? When I wrote ‘From a Window Seat’ I was really excited, I was like, ‘This is a song about the weird, obscure metaphysical fear of flying, and it should be off-limits from a band like Dawes, but here it is.’ And I try to keep chasing that down, finding things that just seem like they’re not lyrical and they’re not up for discussing through song. But then more than that, the thing that’s important to me is trying to explore the difference—like when I listen to early music that I wrote, it’s a lot of just me, me, me.”

He adds, “And that’s still the case, and that’ll always be the case, but at the same time, I want to make sure I’m coming from a place where I can adopt attitudes that I don’t identify with….certain perspectives that are not my own, certain narratives that I’m not even a part of, that stuff I feel like is newer. That’s how my writing’s changed. I feel like it’s all as indicative to how I view the world as it ever has been, but trying to take it beyond ‘I love you and you love me, let’s not lose each other, blah blah blah.’

“Because that’s part of what it is to be in your early 20s, but now I look at these songwriters that have these long, rich careers, and a lot of it is because they know how to tackle concepts that are bigger than relationships, that are bigger than self-reflection. They might involve those qualities, but they reach for more ambitious concepts. And so that’s something that I try not to think about too much, but I know that when I sit down to write a song, if it’s going to motivate me to finish it, I want to feel like it’s terrain that I haven’t covered before.”

Even when he doesn’t necessarily agree with what he’s singing, there’s a certain sincerity at the heart of Goldsmith’s songs—perhaps stemming from his ability to place himself in someone else’s shoes sans judgment—that he’s learning to take pride in, no matter how unhip that makes him.

“There’s this coolness that exists right now, and when we come across people that stand up against it and just say how they feel and they don’t mind being emotionally available and earnest and clear and proud, it’s an inspiring attitude,” he says. “I mean, that can come from a person like Bruce Springsteen or it can come from a person like The Rock. His attitude and his sense of gratitude and the way he presents himself in this world, I think there’s something very deep and enlightened about it. He has transcended coolness, and that’s amazing because he’s not here to pretend like he’s some impenetrable artist. He’s not here to pretend like he doesn’t care. He definitely cares, and he’s definitely grateful, and he’s definitely proud, and if we all took a bit of a tip from that attitude towards life, I think it would actually edify us. It would motivate us.

“And so I think for me as a songwriter, after all this time of not knowing where I stood, like, ‘Well, how do I be the cool guy? How does David Bowie be David Bowie? How does Father John Misty be this kind of enigmatic Father John Misty?’ And the reality is that’s just who those people are. And I am the person talking to you right now; I’m the over-sharer. And me coming to terms with that has been kind of the best feeling I’ve had as a songwriter in a long time, like the more I embrace myself directly corresponds to how true I feel my music is. It should be a simple enough lesson to learn pretty early on, but it’s not. It’s really hard. There are few things harder than getting to know yourself and then committing to it. So if someone heard this new album and felt like ‘I’m more willing to be myself. I’m more willing to be open and earnest and share the way I feel,’ I dunno, it sounds cheesy saying it out loud, but I feel like if that were to be something that someone was left with, that would mean a lot.”


Photo credit: Magdalena Wosinska

Way Above the Chimney Tops: A Pride Celebration of “Over the Rainbow”

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As we celebrate LGBTQ+ Pride, let’s go “Over the Rainbow.” The amount of artists that have covered this song (written by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg) is practically innumerable — and of course Judy Garland’s version from 1939’s The Wizard of Oz is the emerald standard. Yet we looked behind the curtain and found 10 roots, country, and folk-tinged versions that we think stand at the top of the heap. What’s your favorite version?

Eva Cassidy

This acoustic cover of “Over the Rainbow” made Eva Cassidy a star, but it didn’t happen until five years after her death in 1996 when a homemade video was shown on BBC’s Top of the Pops 2.

Willie Nelson

Why are there so many songs about rainbows? Willie chose Somewhere Over the Rainbow as the title of his 25th studio album, featuring 1940s pop standards, released in 1981.

Tommy Emmanuel

Officially released in 2004, Tommy Emmanuel had been playing this masterful solo version for years. He says he adapted this arrangement from Chet Atkins’ rendition, then allowed it to evolve over time.

Jerry Lee Lewis

Leave it to ol’ Jerry Lee to insert himself into the story. Even without a broomstick, he swept onto the charts with this cool rendition in 1980, giving him Top 10 country hits across four consecutive decades.

Leon Russell with Newgrass Revival

From a 1981 live album, this version smolders with understated keys and the unmistakable voice of Leon Russell. And this trippy video mixes color and black-and-white footage, just like The Wizard of Oz!

Martina McBride

She’s not in Kansas anymore. Released as a single in 2015, Martina sang “Over the Rainbow” on numerous TV broadcasts, including American Idol and the Opry. Give the people what they want!

Chet Atkins, Les Paul

A beautiful instrumental recorded in 1978, Les is on electric, while Chet provides the fingerpicked classical guitar. Look for it on the great and powerful Guitar Monsters album.

Ingrid Michaelson

Released in 2006, Ingrid Michaelson would go on to perform “Over the Rainbow” with a choir of kids from Sandy Hook Elementary School in January 2013. She considers it a “positive and hopeful song.”

Israel Kamakawiwo’ole (“Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World”)

Perhaps the best-known cover, the singer known simply as ‘Bruddah Iz’ around Hawaii found posthumous fame with this inescapable medley. According to NPR, he recorded the song spontaneously in 1988, intending it to be a demo.

Jake Shimabukuro

Iz isn’t the only contemporary Hawaiian musician to tackle “Over the Rainbow.” Check out this solo version by Shimabukuro, who has been playing ukulele since he was 4 years old. It’ll make you want to tap your heels together.

Photo by Redfishingboat (Mick O) on Foter.com / CC BY-NC

Capturing the Outlaws: Country Music Hall of Fame Salutes the 1970s

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Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson are familiar to every country fan – and more than a few would consider them the original Outlaws. In a brand new exhibit, Outlaws & Armadillos: Country’s Roaring ’70s, the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville strives to explain how that name stuck. More importantly, it traces the connection between Nashville and Austin to show how these cities shaped country music in the 1970s, considered one of the genre’s most incredible periods of creativity and individuality.

The emergence of Willie Nelson as an iconic Texas musician is central to the exhibit. His blue sneakers and other parts of his casual wardrobe are emblematic of how he stood apart from country entertainers in that era.

Waylon Jennings and his wife, Jessi Colter (shown above), appeared on the first-ever platinum country album, Wanted! The Outlaws (1976). Guitars, a Grammy Award, and posters from Jennings’ performances in Nashville and Austin are on display.

A poster of the film Heartworn Highways is displayed next to a poncho embroidered with “… and Lefty,” which belonged to Townes Van Zandt. Items from Guy Clark, coach Darrell Royal, Alvin Crow, and Uncle Walt’s Band are also featured.

The comprehensive exhibit explains the contributions of Jerry Jeff Walker, Asleep at the Wheel, Michael Murphey, Doug Sahm and Freda & the Firedogs, through rarely-seen memorabilia provided by the artists.

Joe Ely poses next to the uniform he wore while working for the circus. Ely became a force in Texas music as a member of The Flatlanders and through a number of acclaimed solo projects. He also performed on opening night.

Texas natives Tanya Tucker and Billy Joe Shaver catch up at the opening night party. Jennings’ 1973 album, Honky Tonk Heroes, is composed almost entirely of Shaver’s songs. Tucker broke through in 1972 with “Delta Dawn.”

Text by Craig Shelburne

That Ain’t Bluegrass: Lonely Heartstring Band

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Artist: Lonely Heartstring Band
Song: “Rambling, Gambling Willie” (originally by Bob Dylan)
Album: Deep Waters

Where did you first hear “Rambling, Gambling Willie?”

Patrick M’Gonigle: Matt [Witler] actually found the song. It was released probably seven or eight years ago now, as part of The Witmark Demos — a set of outtakes from when Bob Dylan recorded The Freewheelin’ sessions. He released a whole bunch of other music from that session. I think it was Matt that thought it would make a cool bluegrass song.

We actually have an interesting side note about that: We had a guy come to a show a couple of years ago and we played that song, introducing it as a song that didn’t make The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan record. The guy said he went home very confused. He had The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan album, and he said, “I grew up listening to that record. I know that song intimately. And I never had The Witmark Demos. So I don’t get this.” When he found his copy and looked at the track order, sure enough “Rambling, Gambling” was not on the track order. Then he put the record on and “Rambling, Gambling” was on it! He had one of a very small handful of misprints of the stereo version of that record, and it’s worth a ton of money.

I thought this was going to be a Mandela Effect kind of thing!

It was actually on there!

The title of the song almost answers this question, but what made you all think this would make a good bluegrass song?

It’s got a great, classic chord progression. Also, the timing of the words allowed us to speed it up and have it work. A lot of songs, you speed them up, and the words just become insane or crunched together. The song itself, the words are at a slower pace, so when we sped it up, they totally fit. It’s super fun to play on as a soloist. It had all of the elements. We did the same thing recently with a song that we learned from Willie Nelson. If we hear [three-chord] songs that are slow, but also have a slow word flow, they lend themselves to this. “Rambling, Gambling Willie” was our first experiment with that.

What was your process of arranging the song and putting it together?

It was a few years ago now. When we sped it up, the verses ended up being quite short. There are a lot of them — I think the original version has maybe eight or nine verses. We chose six of them. We chose the ones that told the story cohesively. We cut a bunch of them, and we realized, because we were speeding it up, it didn’t make sense to do verse-chorus-solo. So we did two verse-choruses in a row between solos, which kind of acted as one verse.

The other thing we did, when we worked up the harmonies on the first chorus of each pair, we would do a low harmony and, the second one, we’d do a high harmony, so it would still have kind of an arc over the two verses. One of our favorite, one of our most popular bluegrass songs when we arranged that song was “Born to Be with You” by J.D. Crowe and the New South, which we still play. That has a really cool arrangement style where the banjo finishes every break. We applied that to this song, too. When it gets to the chorus parts, because we would solo over verse-chorus, Gabe [Hirshfeld] on the banjo would always solo over the chorus part.

Bluegrass has always had this tradition of reworking and revamping songs from outside of bluegrass since the very beginning. Why do you think this still happens?

I feel like there are several answers to that. For us, we love — in terms of traditional bluegrass sounds — J.D. Crowe and the New South. J.D. is a great example of someone who does that. Like the song “Born to Be with You,” that’s a ‘50s doo-wop song by the Chordettes. The original sounds nothing like what J.D did with it.

Also, I think a lot of the bluegrass themes are pretty constant throughout bluegrass. We have a banter joke on stage that there are only like six themes in bluegrass: heartbreak, drinking or making alcohol, trains, God, and death. In pop music, especially folk revival — ‘60s, ‘70s pop music — there was a kind of poetic awakening and there was a lot more content. That’s one answer: You can talk about more complex themes.

Then, on the other hand, it’s just natural. Especially in this day and age, when there’s so much good music happening all over the place, if you grow up listening to the radio, it’s not just the Grand Ole Opry anymore. Everyone’s listening to everything.

You know that ain’t bluegrass, right?

Whatever, man. [Laughs] In our band, it’s different for everyone, but I think, in general, I see the term “bluegrass” as either a help or a hindrance. It’s a double-edged sword. On the one hand, sure, it’s bluegrass. In my opinion, bluegrass is whatever anyone wants to call bluegrass. I’m not concerned with it. Maybe it’s not traditional bluegrass, if you define traditional bluegrass as anything that happened before 1953 or whenever. I don’t feel like it’s constructive, especially in our band, to talk about what is or isn’t bluegrass. To us, that song is bluegrass because we’re taking pentatonic solos over essentially a 1-4-5 [chord progression,] the mandolin is chopping, the banjo is rolling, and we have three-part harmony that’s stacked in thirds. That’s awfully bluegrass, if you break it down as a specific musical form.

If you start trying to define what bluegrass means to us, it can start holding us back, because we can easily decide that nothing is bluegrass. I think it’s better for everyone, especially touring, performing musicians who are trying to expand their markets, trying to talk about diversity, or any sort of expansion, because if you start putting labels on whatever bluegrass is, the conversation is over pretty quickly. Everyone has a different idea.

But, at the same time, bluegrass as a positive aesthetic is really powerful. Bringing in the imagery of traditional bluegrass, in a good way, to any sort of music, incorporated into any of those styles can be super awesome. People can immediately conjure some sort of nostalgic, rural, aesthetic. Those are powerful aesthetics that are very popular in American culture. That’s the double-edged sword, to us.

Ken Irwin had a very interesting thing to say to us after we played at Pemi Valley Bluegrass Festival in New Hampshire — that’s a pretty traditional festival. We were up there playing our music, but at that point, we were probably playing more of the Flatt & Scruggs and Bluegrass Album Band kind of stuff. I kept saying, “Here’s one of our songs” and then, “Here’s a traditional bluegrass song.” Ken pointed out that, if we say that, people will start putting those divisions in their own minds about our music. If the audience loves traditional bluegrass and they want to call our music “bluegrass,” then we should let them. But as soon as we start saying what is or isn’t bluegrass from stage, we might be steering someone’s opinions in directions they wouldn’t otherwise go.

A Musically Fashionable Reunion, Luck-Style

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“Damn, I forgot how good-looking everyone is in Texas!” the woman next to me said, as we approached the gates of Luck Ranch. My smile was equal parts Texas pride and pure excitement, as I took in my hill country surroundings — an oasis amidst the SXSW madness. The women, men, and kids sharing Willie Nelson’s ranch for the day rocked various combinations of leather boots, chain-stitched denim, hand-crafted hats, and custom jewelry, as well as other items rooted in traditional craft. If you didn’t arrive in any of these items, there’s a good chance you left with one, after visiting the skilled Luck vendors. I know I did!

On the repurposed set of the 1986 film, Red Headed Stranger, the annual Luck Reunion draws a specific audience in with its well-curated line-up of artists, vendors, and other creators who “cultivate the new, while showing honor to influence” in their work. It’s hard to believe this idyllic, single-day music festival wasn’t a mirage or dream induced by way too much of Willie’s Reserve. Here was a damn good-looking group of people listening to some damn good tunes.

Lilly Hiatt

Micah Nelson wearing Featherweight

Aaron Lee Tasjan in Lone Hawk; Caleb Caudle; and Devon Gilfillian

The Texas Gentlemen

Sam of Quaker City Night Hawks

Nikki Lane  in Wallflowers suit and Worth & Worth hat; Sam Lewis; and Onye  wearing her own designs, Effie and Onanu

 

Nashville illustrator Emily Miller

Marie of Lockhart Embroidery

Lede image: Ft. Lonesome

Traveler: Your Guide to San Antonio

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San Antonio is a multicultural city with a rich history and vibrant art culture. A museum goer’s dream, the second largest city in Texas is packed with evolving and impressive museums and galleries galore. San Antonio’s music scene attracts outlaws, the art scene attracts Picassos, and the culinary scene attracts Mexican food perfectionists. Plus, who wouldn’t want to go to the city which holds a world record in tamale making?

Getting There

River Walk at Dusk. Photo credit: Tim Thompson

Located in south central Texas, San Antonio is nearly nestled against the Mexican border. San Antonio International Airport (SAT) is located northeast of San Antonio proper, offering plenty of nonstop flights in and out daily. If you want to tack onto a trip to Austin or Houston, San Antonio is a one- or three-hour drive, respectively.

Where to Stay

Inn on the River Walk

The Inn on the River Walk is a classic bed & breakfast, sprawling throughout three 1900s homes along the famous River Walk, while Hotel Havana is a boutique hotel overlooking the River Walk with a noteworthy bar called Ocho. There are plenty of affordable Airbnb options, too. Stick to looking in the downtown and River Walk areas, East San Antonio, Alamo Heights, and the King Williams Historic District for staying in lively areas.

The Hotel Emma

The Hotel Emma is a destination in and of itself because of its unique trappings and in-house upscale restaurants. It’s worth a meal just to peep the decor inside.

What to Do

McNay museum. 

San Antonio is museum central. Everything from Picassos to O’Keeffes reside in the McNay, a world-class modern art museum with more than 20,000 works. The Witte Museum is an interactive science-meets-nature-meets-culture experience, and the brand new DoSeum Children’s Museum features STEM-centric, hands-on exhibits for kids like Spy Academy and Sensations Studio.

Botanical Garden. Photo credit: visitsanantonio.com

Freshly renovated, the San Antonio Botanical Garden includes a family garden, Texas Native Trail, bird watching opportunities, and a tropics-heavy conservatory.

The Alamo. Photo credit: visitsanantonio.com

Though San Antonio is a history nerd’s playground, the Alamo is a given stop on any traveler’s itinerary. Originally established as a one of the early Spanish missions in Texas, the fortress has had many uses and is now preserved as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s free and spans four acres, so it’ll take a few hours to cover the grounds. San Antonio Missions National Historical Park is home to four of the city’s five Spanish missions — outposts that date back to the 17th century.

Under construction and opening in 2019 is Ruby City, a contemporary art center designed by Sir David Adjaye — the same architect who designed the Museum of African-American History and Culture in Washington, DC.

If you like your learning with a side of live music, check out Jazz, TX at Pearl, Paper Tiger, and Willie Nelson’s Luck Reunion fest every March.

Eats & Drinks

Hotel Havana

With more than 1,000 Mexican restaurants, authentic Texas BBQ, and international cuisine from every corner of the world, San Antonio’s culinary scene is robust. The Pearl District and Southtown are restaurant-rich parts of town where you can point to pretty much any spot on the map and strike gold. Grab a drink at Ocho (in Hotel Havana), and you’ll be situated in a glass conservatory overlooking the River Walk sipping locally inspired cocktails.

The Esquire Tavern

The Esquire Tavern is a James Beard-nominated bar with the longest wooden bar top in Texas. Its vibe is informed by the year it opened — 1933. Don’t miss their smoky, chimichurri-doused chalupitas.

Breakfast options include Bakery Lorraine, which moved from the San Francisco area to the Pearl in San Antonio and offers renowned tarts and macaroons. Chef Johnny Hernandez is a local celeb and his Frutería-Botanero will prove why. This Southtown gem serves fresh-pressed juices and smoothies by day and transforms into a Mexican-style small plate bar by night. If you’re feeling a good ole’ American meal of BBQ & beer, hit up the Granary.

Luck Reunion Tips

Valerie June at Luck Reunion. Photo credit: Nathan Poppe

An hour-and-a-half north of San Antonio, musical outlaws gather every March among the fading movie set facades for a musical reunion. Luck Reunion was originally Willie Nelson’s brainchild, beginning on his ranch in Luck, Texas.

Sure, the Reunion’s lineup is stacked with big names, but the fest is equally as dedicated to encouraging music fans to experience rising acts who are doing it all on their own terms. The festival organizers program the early slots to be filled with the artists they believe will be the next crop of rogue music legends.

The Nelson family’s cardinal rule is “Don’t be an asshole,” and that rings true during the festival. Don’t take the historic property, the people you’re surrounded by, or the music for granted while you’re (literally) in Luck. And, no, that is not a skunk you smell.

Lee Ann Womack: Keeping it Real

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Lee Ann Womack had to get out of Nashville to make what she calls a real country music record. Specifically, she had to get about 800 miles away. For her eighth — and maybe her best — album, The Lonely, the Lonesome & the Gone, Womack trekked down to Houston, Texas, and set up camp at the historic SugarHill Studio, which has hosted famed sessions by some of her musical heroes: Lightnin’ Hopkins, the Sir Douglas Quintet, George Jones, and many others. Nashville has plenty of similarly legendary rooms, of course, but Womack needed to get away from the grinding gears of the country music machine — what she derides as “McRecords.”

“It’s like a factory,” she says. “What was great about being down there in Texas is that you’re in a studio where people go to work everyday and you have all kinds of music being recorded there. Nobody’s going in thinking, ‘We’ve got to lay down a three-minute uptempo love song for radio.’ They’re not thinking about how we’re going to make the most money out of three minutes of music. All they’re thinking about is going in and making great music.”

Womack is one of the few artists who can drop a phrase like “real country music” into conversation without sounding defensive, dismissive, or derisive — in other words, without buying into received notions of authenticity. Her definition of “real” is deeply personal and based on the country music that was popular 40 or 50 or even 60 years ago, but Lonely proves that even old tunes and old sounds can speak to this modern moment. Rather than restrictive, the term becomes freeing: These new songs range from the stately countrypolitan of “Hollywood” to the gritty blues of “All the Trouble,” from the beautiful reimagining of the 1959 Lefty Frizzell “Long Black Veil” to the remarkable insights of the title track, a country song about country songs.

Recording in Houston actually brought her closer to some of her Nashville heroes. Womack grew up in a small town called Jacksonville, Texas, about three hours due north of Houston. Her father was a country radio DJ, a profession that provided his daughter with a deep grounding in the music’s history. As a child, she loved Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys. “I thought he was funny. The music was upbeat and bouncy, which any kid would like, and then you’ve got this guy talking all over the tracks: [Imitating Wills’ falsetto] ‘Shoot low, sheriff! I think he’s riding a Shetland!’” She might have been laughing at the bandleader’s antics, but she was subconsciously absorbing the complex horns and fiddles. “It becomes part of the fabric of your musical DNA.”

As she grew up, Womack raided her parents’ record collection, which was full of albums by Ray Price, George Jones, Porter Waggoner, Dolly Parton, and, of course, Willie Nelson. “Twin fiddles and steel guitar and story songs — these were the things that I thought were country music, and I thought my idea of country music was everybody’s idea of country music.” Ironically, being in Nashville only distanced Womack from her first loves. “Growing up in East Texas, I was full of dreams and hope. Then I moved to Nashville and, after 20 years, you get kind of jaded. Things change,” she says. “Every time I go back home, I have a spark of that feeling I had growing up. I wanted that again. I haven’t made a record in that frame of mind in so long. I just wanted to be surrounded again by the things that shaped me growing up.”

All of those old sounds inform the new record, which was produced by her husband, Frank Liddell, and finds Womack moving even further away from the country mainstream. Disregarding the need for radio airplay and signing with ATO Records [home to the Drive-By Truckers and Hurray for the Riff Raff] suggests she is cementing her place within the Americana market, adopting a rootsier sound for a very different kind of audience. As she recounts her career, however, Womack insists she has always gravitated toward this kind of music, even when she was just starting out. “When I walked into the offices of Decca Records to audition, I walked in with just an upright bass, myself, and an acoustic guitar. We played as a trio, right there in the office,” she recounts. “And that’s exactly who I was. My first record had a song on it called ‘Never Again, Again,’ and that was stone-cold country. Even in 1997, I felt like I needed to remind people of what country music really was.”

And yet, within the country sphere and without, she is best known for 2000’s smash single, “I Hope You Dance,” which achieved the crossover success so many Nashville artists covet. Recorded with Sons of the Desert, it’s a slick and sentimental pop-country anthem whose uplifting lyrics could double as a graduation speech or a Hallmark card: “I hope you still feel small, when you stand beside the ocean. Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens.”

To her credit, Womack doesn’t ignore or disregard her biggest hit, no matter that it is something of an outlier in her catalog. She still performs it at almost every concert, still sings it like it’s a brand-new song, still invests those lyrics with sincerity and immense generosity, even as she strips it down to its core. “Those lyrics still stand up with just an acoustic guitar,” she says. “I might have cut a couple of lightweight pieces along the way, but I tried to cut the best songs I could find. And now when I go out and play with fewer musicians in a more stripped-down setting, those songs hold up because they were great songs to begin with. I guess a lot of shit got put on them to make them more commercial.”

That is perhaps one of Womack’s most undervalued talents: She is a sensitive and intuitive song collector with a discerning ear for complex sentiments, sturdy melodies, and relatable characters. On her last album, 2014’s The Way I’m Livin’, she covered the Texas singer/songwriter Hayes Carll and managed to outdo Neil Young on her tender version of “Out on a Weekend.” Lonely includes a handful of old-school covers, but the standouts are those penned by young scribes like Brent Cobb, Adam Wright, and Jay Knowles.

During the sessions in Houston, there were discussions about the title track, which includes the line, “[Hank Williams] never wrote about watching a Camry pulling out of a crowded apartment parking lot.” According to Wright, who co-wrote the tune, “Some people were like, ‘Camry isn’t very cool. Is there another car we can use?’ But Lee Ann said, ‘No, it’s a Camry. Those are the lyrics and that’s what it is.’ And that’s the point, after all. It’s not a Jaguar. It’s not a cool car. It’s not romantic.” As she sings it, that is one of the most arresting lines in a song this year — country or otherwise — and she delivers it with a gentle despair and even a little resignation, as though measuring the romance of an old country song and the reality of everyday life. “The care she takes with these songs left a big impression on me,” says Wright.

For Womack, country music is real when it’s about real people — not just the musicians who write and sing the songs, but the listeners who play those tunes over and over again, who hear their own dreams and hopes echoed back to them. “I have this theme about myself and about others,” says Womack. “I don’t know how else to describe it, except to say that I am drawn to losers. I hate to call anybody a loser, but I throw myself in that pile.”

By “losers,” she means people facing down challenges bigger than they are, and that accounts for just about everybody on earth. “That’s why I’m drawn to songs like ‘All the Trouble’ and ‘I Hope You Dance.’ They’re about challenges, about hard moments in life,” she muses. “There was a time when country music spoke more to those types of people. Now it’s speaking to a different group of people. That’s fine, but I want to speak to the challenges of life. The lonely, the lonesome, and the gone? Those are my people.”

Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.

WATCH: Kristina Murray, ‘How Tall the Glass’

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Artist: Kristina Murray
Hometown: Nashville, TN
Song: “How Tall the Glass”

In Their Words: “For a month or so prior to writing ‘How Tall the Glass,’ I’d been on a listening binge of early turtleneck-wearing Willie and pompadour-styling Paycheck, and was just obsessing over both their exaggerated vocal phrasings and unique perspectives on love, life, and drinking — and how and when those things collide. Late one night last November, I’d been sipping Bulleit bourbon, missing my lover, and messing around just writing and picking, when I said to myself — as I reached for another beer — ‘Well, it’s just a two-step process from the fridge to the cup!’ I thought that sounded like something Willie would philosophize, and the song just poured (no pun intended) out from there; it really took shape with the refrain line, which muses and smirks in self defeat, ‘How empty the bottle, how tall the glass.” — Kristina Murray

Photo credit: Sarah McLaughlin

Charley Pride: Crossing Over Generations

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Charley Pride might be 83 and a living country legend, but that doesn’t mean he’s not wise or proud enough to still listen to his wife. “It’s been six years since the last one,” Pride says of his 2011 album, Choices. “And my wife said, ‘Why don’t you try and find a producer you might like to work with?'” Pride heard her loud and clear and, together, they found Billy Yates, a renowned Nashville artist, producer, and songwriter. Even in his 80s, Pride wasn’t afraid to shake things up a little. Clearly, he’s never been afraid to take chances and drive from his gut — straight to 36 number one songs and spots in the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Grand Ole Opry.

The result is Music in My Heart, 13 songs of tender country traditionalism centered on Pride’s warm tone and classic, twangy spikes of fiddle and steel guitar. After all these years and one of country’s most storied careers, Pride’s never found a reason to veer away from what he does best — songs that grow fruitfully from the genre’s original roots, watered with the souls of Bill Monroe and Roy Acuff.

“I’m a traditionalist,” says Pride. He repeats the phrase so it’s undeniably clear: “A traditionalist. You don’t have to worry about me crossing over, because I’m a traditionalist and I’m proud of that. People used to say to me, after ‘Kiss an Angel Good Mornin” started going up the charts, ‘Charley, when are you going to cross over?’ I said, ‘I ain’t going to cross over to nothing.’ They want me to cross over? They crossed over to me!”

Pride, who’s sold over 70 million records worldwide, has certainly earned the right to stick to his convictions — and he’s also proven the value of driving straight from the heart, with equal parts hard work along the way. Pride grew up the son of a sharecropper on a cotton farm in Sledge, Mississippi, and has lived a life worthy of the movie screens, so much so that a biopic has been in the works for years (at one point, Dwayne Johnson, aka the Rock, was even in talks to play the singer). Pride held tenure in the Negro baseball league, was drafted by the Army, and ended up in Nashville after his plans in sports crumbled. He took the bus to Tennessee, eventually breaking barriers with hit after hit in the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s. Even now, he’s still working, performing sometimes 40 concert dates a year. The only difference is that he’s singing to multiple generations.

“I’m singing to three or four decades now,” Pride says. “I was in Indiana a few years back, and a lady hollered out in the audience, ‘Charley! You’re singing to five generations!’ I’m singing to grandmothers, grandfathers, granddaughters. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but they’re still standing up when I first come on. They scream, ‘Oh, Charley. You’ve still got it!’ Not just the ladies; the men are, too. When you get that kind of thing, it’s hard to quit.”

Indeed, Music in My Heart is still very much progressing and alive. Instead of compiling an album of tributes, or something trying to appeal to country’s current trends, it’s unapologetic in its tone: it opens on “New Patches,” with fiddle that’s clear as day, undeniably traditional and Southern-rooted. Pride’s voice, too, has only honeyed as the years have gone on, deepening a touch, yet barely fraying. Even in his personal listening, he’s never strayed from the classics. “I listen mostly to Willie’s Roadhouse,” he admits, about his buddy Willie Nelson’s classic country show on SiriusXM. He sees Randy Travis as the dividing line of sorts between the new and the old guard.

“From Randy Travis came Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, up to Taylor Swift, to now,” he says. “Most of them, I’ve met and they’ve been really good to me, same as my peers up to George Strait. I’ve liked not one or two of their songs, but a whole bunch. Garth Brooks, he treats me like a dad. Well, not a dad, but with respect, for my being a traditionalist.”

Predictably, it’s once again his wife Rozene — to whom he’s been wed since 1956 — who is the balancing force. “If I’m in her car, she listens to the people coming up,” Pride admits, though don’t ask him to recall any of their names. “The youngsters that are coming up right now.” Pride’s own youngster — his son, Dion — carries on the family tradition with some other famous offspring: Marty Haggard and Georgette Jones, something Pride himself brings full circle on Music in My Heart by covering Haggard’s “The Way It Was in ’51.”

With the genre’s recent embrace of traditionalism, it would be a pity to put Pride only in the category of dust-gathering legacy acts: He is one, undoubtedly, but he’s still making music that has ample power to scratch that modern classic country itch. Maybe that’s because he still sees his best days ahead of him. “I think this is my best work, and I’m not just saying that: I’m stating facts that I believe,” he says. “I culled these songs down to the ones I really love, the way I have done all my life. Like I’ve always said, I’m in the business of selling lyrics, feeling, and emotions.”

And Music in My Heart is beating fast and furiously with all of those things, 83 years in the making.

Lede illustration by Cat Ferraz.