The Show On The Road – David Bromberg

This week, The Show On The Road features living folk-blues legend and underground guitar icon David Bromberg.


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Host Z. Lupetin got to speak with the now 74-year-old Bromberg in a hotel room before the pandemic shutdown, prior to Bromberg playing a show at the El Rey Theatre in Los Angeles back in February, 2020.

Coming out of the fertile Greenwich Village scene on the heels of Bob Dylan, Ramblin Jack Elliot and other shaggy troubadour-storytellers, Bromberg’s encyclopedic knowledge of American songwriting traditions made him a coffee house wunderkind who refused to be pigeonholed in one genre. By the age of thirty, Bromberg was the go-to guitarist for Dylan, Willie Nelson, John Prine and Ringo Starr, and he could be found jamming at dinner parties with George Harrison.

A man of many interests and talents, Bromberg actually stepped away from performing for nearly two decades at the height of his notoriety, moving to Chicago to learn how to build and then appraise violins. He became obsessed with identifying the best instruments just by sight, and even opened a respected instrument shop in Wilmington, Delaware called David Bromberg Fine Violins.

He returned after twenty two years off the road with the triumphant and Grammy-nominated Try Me One More Time in 2006, and has assembled an energetic band of friends that continues to join him on his new, high energy offerings.

Bromberg’s muscular and ever genre-bending 2020 release, Big Road pays homage to his heroes like Charlie Rich and 1930’s bluesman Tommy Johnson, but also injects heavy doses of swampy rock, horn-heavy funk, and good-humored, folk storytelling along the way.

Stick around to the end of the episode to hear him play a new acoustic tune called “Buddy Brown’s Blues.”


WATCH: First Aid Kit, “On the Road Again”

Artist: First Aid Kit
Hometown: Stockholm, Sweden
Song: “On the Road Again”
Release Date: August 14, 2020

In Their Words: “We’re excited to release our version of ‘On the Road Again’ by Willie Nelson. We recorded this cover a couple of years ago and recently found it while digging through the archives. The song is a country classic, it feels like we’ve known it forever. Because of the situation with COVID, sadly, the theme of the song has never felt more relevant than it does today.

“We made a video for the song using cellphone footage from our tours throughout the years. Going through all those videos made us emotional. It made us realize how much we appreciate being able to roam freely around the world. How much we love the feeling of playing live for people, in the flesh. How much we miss our incredible band and crew.

“All the proceeds from the streaming of the song will go to Crew Nation. So much of the magic happens behind the stage. It’s easily taken for granted, but without our touring and venue crew live music wouldn’t be possible. It’s important that we help them out right now. Oh, how we wish we could get back on the road again! Hopefully we’ll see you down the road sometime soon.” — Johanna and Klara Söderberg, First Aid Kit


Photo credit: Nirrimi Firebrace

‘Urban Cowboy’ at 40: How a Mechanical Bull Changed Mickey Gilley’s Life

Mickey Gilley admits he wasn’t keen on the idea of installing a mechanical bull at his namesake honky-tonk on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. Nor is he shy about admitting just how wrong he was. That rodeo training device transformed Gilley’s Club into a cultural force. “The mechanical bull was never meant to be in an entertainment establishment like ours,” says the 84-year-old country star. “I thought it was a mistake, but it turned out to be a blessing. Without the mechanical bull, we never would have gotten that film with John Travolta.”

Every night there was a line for the mechanical bull. Demand was so high they installed a second bull and briefly considered buying the rights to the device in order to market it to honky-tonks around the country. Those would-be cowboys — called Gilleyrats after their favorite gathering spot — would compete to see who could stay on the bucking bull the longest, and that contest became the centerpiece of James Bridges’ 1980 film Urban Cowboy, featuring John Travolta in his follow-up to Saturday Night Fever. Exchanging the New York City discos for this dusty, Lone Star honky-tonk, he stars as Bud Davis, a small-town kid who moves to the big city and becomes a master of the mechanical bull.

The film culminates in a showdown with his nemesis, played by Scott Glenn, over the affections of a scene-stealing Debra Winger. As drama goes, this test of saddle skill is anticlimactic, as there is nothing at stake beyond macho pride. Bud isn’t fighting to escape his life (as his character in Fever did) nor to stay at Gilley’s. He’s just fighting. Though never quite satisfying as drama, Urban Cowboy is still fascinating 40 years later as a documentary about Gilley’s and the particular culture that grew up around it.

Gilley and his business partner, Sherwood Cryer, opened the place in 1970. At the time Gilley was only a regional star, with his own TV show in Houston and enough name recognition to open a club. (Being cousins with both Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart didn’t hurt, either.) In 1974 he had a surprise hit with “Room Full of Roses,” which only brought more attention to his honky-tonk. He played there regularly and invited friends to fill in for him when he was on the road. The place grew into something like a theme park, with a dance floor roughly the size of a football field, several bars, tons of games, even a rodeo arena. “This place is bigger than my whole hometown,” Travolta’s character says when he first steps foot in the place.

Urban Cowboy captures the energy of Gilley’s Club in frenetic long takes that put you right at the bar or out on the dance floor. You can almost smell the sawdust and beer. Gilley even performs during a couple of scenes, as does Charlie Daniels, and the shots of couples shuffling across the floor in tight, fluid choreography are among the film’s highlights.

By the time a suspicious fire destroyed Gilley’s in 1990, the place and the film had already left a deep impression in popular culture. It introduced western wear as high fashion: tight jeans and big hats worn by guys who never rode the range (or a bull, for that matter), but still bought into the mythos of the American cowboy. And its soundtrack, featuring Bonnie Raitt, Boz Scaggs, and Kenny Rogers, peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and produced chart-topping country singles such as “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee, “Could I Have This Dance” by Anne Murray, and “Stand by Me” by Gilley himself.

For our latest Roots on Screen column, we chatted with the club’s namesake about accidentally recording a hit single, flying with Travolta, and assaulting the sausage king.

BGS: How did you get to a point where you could open a massive honky-tonk with your name on it?

Gilley: I grew up in Louisiana and got two famous cousins, Jerry Lee Lewis and Rev. Jimmy Swaggart. Jerry Lee was my hero, because without him I probably wouldn’t have gotten in the music business. He came to Houston in ’57 and I saw how well he was doing. I was working construction making $1.25 an hour and that’s when I threw my hat in the ring. Seventeen years later I cut “Room Full of Roses” by mistake and it turned out to be my first No. 1 song. After that I got to tour with Conway and Loretta and next thing I knew John Travolta came knocking on my door. Everything broke loose.

How does somebody cut a hit single by accident?

I had a little TV show in the Houston market. One night I walked into Gilley’s and the lady who had the jukebox called me over and says, “Today on your TV show you did my favorite song, ‘She Called Me Baby All Night Long.’” It’s a Harlan Howard tune. She told me she’s in the jukebox business and if I would record that song, she’d put it on every one of her jukeboxes. I said, “Ma’am, I ain’t made a record in probably three years. The show is doing well. The club is doing well. I don’t really make records anymore.” She said, “Just make that one song for me.”

Well, as you know, back then they had 45s and you had to have an A side and a B side. I went in to cut “She Called Me Baby All Night Long” and for the flip side, I picked “Room Full of Roses.” It’s an old George Morgan song from the late ‘40s or early ‘50s. Lorrie Morgan’s father. I started the arpeggio on the piano and got maybe 30 seconds into it and then stopped. My bass guitar player looked over and said, “What’d you quit for?” I told him it sounded too much like Jerry Lee. And he says, “Who cares? Nobody’s going to hear it. It’s a B side!” So I recorded it. Didn’t think anything about it.

I took the record around to radio stations where we were buying time to advertise the club — “Gilley’s! 4500 Spencer Highway! Pasadena, Texas!” — and I asked if they would play the record when they did the spot on the club. I remember Bruce Nelson at WKNR asked me which side I wanted him to play. I said, “Either side you want. Doesn’t matter to me.” He looked at both sides and said, “I think I like that flower song.” He played it and it shot up the charts. Playboy Records picked it up and took it national for me in 1974.

What was a typical night like at Gilley’s during its heyday?

After the film Urban Cowboy came out, it was packed every night. I never seen anything like it in my life. It went on for about three and a half years. It was totally jam-packed, seven nights a week. People wanted to be a part of what it was all about. They just came out to have a good time. We had a lot of things in the club you could do, too. We had the two mechanical bulls, plus we had quite a few pool tables spread out through the club. Pinball. Punching bags… you know, things of that nature that people would get a kick out of.

How many stages did you have?

We had just the one big stage for music. Of course, my business partner built a rodeo arena back in ’85 or ’86 and hitched it onto the club, because he wanted to stay ahead of Billy Bob’s down in Fort Worth. The concerts we had in there worked out pretty good, because we had Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, George Strait. People like that do real good in a rodeo arena, but other than that, it was just a big building that we didn’t need.

How often were you playing the regular stage?

I worked the club up until 1985. But I got into a squabble with him about the way the club was running and what was going on, and we got in a lawsuit. I got the club closed down, I got my name off of it, and later it was set on fire and burned. It was arson, but I don’t know who did it, you know? It went up in flames and no more Gilley’s in Pasadena, Texas. But we have a Gilley’s in Treasure Island in Vegas. We have two in Oklahoma and one in Dallas.

What do you remember about filming at Gilley’s?

The main thing I remember was that we had to do it during the day, daylight hours, because we operated the club at night as the regular nightclub. They closed all the doors and tried to make it as dark as they could. I remember the director hollering, “More smoke! More smoke!” to make it look more like a night at the club. They’d start early in the morning and go all day, shooting the parts they had to have. I never had been in a film of that caliber before, so it was different for me. But it was fun.

Was the Urban Cowboy Band something you put together especially for the film?

We had a band there that was playing the club, but I took them on the road with me and renamed them the Urban Cowboy Band when the film came out. Paramount Pictures told me it was OK to use it, so that’s what we did. We were awarded a Grammy for the song “Orange Blossom Special,” which I played piano on. But there were some great songs in the film. “Hello Texas” was written by a Texas guy by the name of Brian Collins and sung by Jimmy Buffett. That’s a great song. We also had Charlie Daniels doing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” in the film.

Your version of “Stand by Me” was a big hit as well.

It was originally recorded by Ben E. King and written by Leiber and Stoller. The song was brought in by the producer, who was wanting to do what he called a “grudge dance” in the film. They picked “Stand by Me” and asked me to do the song. I was a little reluctant but the arrangement they put on it made it a different song than the Ben E. King version. When we got the song recorded, people were raving about it, and it turned out to be a hit. Now I close my shows with it.

What was it like having someone like John Travolta in your club every day? What was he like to work with?

Well, the one thing that John and I had in common was we both loved aviation. At the time, he was working on his pilot’s license, and I got to fly with him. I was so excited about the fact that I was getting to fly with the star of Urban Cowboy. He had just come off of Saturday Night Fever and Grease, so I’m in awe. I’m just an old country boy that’s had quite a few No. 1 songs, but I never had the popularity John Travolta had. He was working on his pilot’s license at the time, so I went up with him a few times. He went on to fly the big jets, which I’m sure is exciting for him. I never got that far in my career. I got to fly some jets, but they were like the LearJet and the Citation — nothing like the 747 he was flying.

How did the success of that movie and the soundtrack change your career?

It changed my life, because the record company put me with a different producer and he started picking songs like “You Don’t Know Me,” “That’s All That Matters to Me,” “Headache Tomorrow (Heartache Tonight),” and “Put Your Dreams Away.” They were all hits for me and opened more doors for me, as far as casino dates in Reno, Vegas, and Atlantic City. I wasn’t just known as a honky-tonk piano player anymore. I was known as a country performer and it gave me a little more clout. I got to play for two presidents. They gave me a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, invited me to come to Hollywood and do some acting roles, and I did The Fall Guy, Fantasy Island, The Dukes of Hazzard, and Murder, She Wrote. I had a scene in Murder, She Wrote where I grab Jimmy Dean, the sausage king! I grab him by the collar and shake him. Sometimes I show that clip in my show and say, “Look at that! I’m trying to shake the sausage out of Jimmy Dean!”

You’re still playing a lot of those songs from Urban Cowboy on tour, right?

Johnny Lee and I have done well by doing the music from that soundtrack and we called it the Urban Cowboy Reunion Tour. I wish we could have gotten more people involved, maybe Charlie Daniels or Bonnie Raitt. But we did pretty good just the two of us. I remember playing a casino down in Louisiana, and at the end of the show I looked at Johnny and said, “Do you realize those people out there dancing wasn’t even born when we did the film?” I think they come out here to see if we’re still alive!


Photo credit: Courtesy of 117 Entertainment

BGS 5+5: Jerry Castle

Artist: Jerry Castle
Hometown: Abingdon, Virginia
Latest Album: Midnight Testaments (August 28, 2020)
Personal Nicknames: “Jer Bear,” Jerry “Cob”

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

As far back as I can remember really, which is since about the age of 3 or 4. My family would get together for parties and take turns singing country and gospel songs. I started writing lyrics by the age of 8, but I didn’t actually get my first guitar until I was 20. The first weekend I got it, I learned a bunch of cover songs and knew then that this was going to be my lot in life. There have been a lot of twists and turns in my life, but after all of these years, here I am, still doing it. Not only am I still doing it, but besides my kids, it has been the center of my universe.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I’m an ocean guy and always have been, which is a bit strange given that I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains of Virginia. At 17, I moved to Myrtle Beach for a short time and along the way, I ended up living in Virginia Beach, Venice Beach, and Honolulu. Being that I’m now landlocked in Nashville, Tennessee, I use my trips to the ocean to rejuvenate my spirit, to wash away all of the noise, and to give me a clean slate for creating. I also get a lot of my video ideas while I’m at the beach. It’s just easier for me to keep things in order while I’m near the ocean.

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

For me, art is art. All of it bleeds over into my music. When I was still living in Abingdon, Virginia, I’d hang out with a bunch of painters that also loved music. That set the stage for understanding that art is sacred and that it’s important to pour every bit of yourself into it and if you don’t, you can’t expect to do your best work. About five years ago I was really influenced by literature and these days I’m probably more influenced by film than any other art form.

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

Be yourself, don’t compare yourself as an artist to others, do the work, don’t judge the work, and move on. At this point of my life, I really don’t have any problem with being myself but the takes some work.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

The two artists that come to mind right off the bat are Tom Petty and Willie Nelson. They’re both unique, they both do the work, and they both come across as 100 percent authentic. Again, all you can be is yourself. As an artist and a human, you fuck up the most when you’re trying to be someone other than yourself. I’d say that both of those guys would say the exact same thing.


Photo credit: Scott Lukes

On These 10 Recordings, Willie Nelson and Black Musicians Share a Creative Vision

Willie Nelson has long been not just an American musical treasure, but an iconic figure with far more appeal across racial and generational lines than often recognized. At 87, he’s achieved a perfect marriage of artistry and commercial success few have in any idiom. While certainly a country legend, and the only person in the genre to ever achieve a Top 10 hit in seven different decades, he’s also collaborated with an astonishing number of artists across a wide swath of musical styles and approaches. He’s penned numerous anthems that have been covered by jazz, blues, R&B, soul, rock and pop vocalists, and this month he released his 70th studio album, First Rose of Spring.

Nelson’s never been afraid to stand up for social justice, even when those words weren’t part of the popular vernacular. Early in Charley Pride’s career, Nelson actually gave him a kiss on stage in Louisiana, quieting an audience that was allowing some of its more verbally racist louts to heckle Pride on stage. He’s always included Black musicians in Farm Aid concerts, had one of his biggest albums ever (Stardust) produced by a Black man (Booker T. Jones, who raved about Nelson in his autobiography) and has maintained a friendship with Snoop Dogg since long before Lil Nas X appeared on the scene. He also enjoyed a very close relationship with Ray Charles, who Nelson lamented he could never beat at chess.

He’s in the same company with people like Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Bill Monroe, whose output, personality and consistent brilliance has endured despite changes in production, audience preferences, and many other variables that can negatively affect the careers of popular musicians. Part of the reason for that longevity is Nelson’s undeniable skill in multiple areas. He’s penned a host of songs that are every bit as epic as those from the pre-rock canon he often samples. Had he only written “Crazy,” “Funny How Time Slips Away,” or “On the Road Again,” that would have been enough for one lifetime. He’s also a very credible singer, highly effective in pacing and telling a story.

Nelson has consistently embraced and operated in other genres by neither sacrificing his musical individuality and integrity, nor seeming to pander or simply attempting to seem hip. Actually, he’s the epitome of that term, though in a vastly different way from someone like Miles Davis, who was known as much for fashion and fine cars as musical innovation. The fact that Nelson has appeared in more than 30 films just adds weight to his universal appeal.

Trying to pick the best of Nelson’s numerous collaborations with great Black singers and musicians is a tricky thing. One could easily select 10 one day, then come back and tab a different 10 another time. But these are some (far from all) personal favorites. They are ranked in order only by year, nothing more. We picked a mix of singles and LPs, but it’s just a small sample of the many wonderful things he’s done. By no means would we claim this is the definitive list for Willie Nelson’s collaborations with African American artists, but it’s a good sampler and an indicator of how widespread his impact and willingness to work with various musicians actually extends.

SINGLES AND ALBUM CUTS

“Man With The Blues” with Buckwheat Zydeco
From Five Card Stud (1994)

The greatest zydeco master since Clifton Chenier teams with Nelson for a smoky, delightful romp that sees Buckwheat Zydeco also find a comfort zone vocally and instrumentally. As is always the case, Nelson easily works himself into the arrangement, and the two sound right at home in this setting.


“Night Life” with B.B. King
From Deuces Wild (1997)

The King of the Blues sounds happy and engaged on one of Nelson’s earliest compositions, providing some taut guitar licks and outstanding lead and harmony vocals while Nelson doesn’t try to match the improvisational edge, instead easing into a nice zone that’s part complimentary, part quite different in style and sound, but ideal for the situation.


“Still Is Still Moving to Me” with Toots & the Maytals
From True Love (2004)

Toots brings some Jamaican soul and lots of energy to this collaboration, while Willie seems a bit more energetic as the song works its way through. This is one of many performances that earned this LP the Reggae Grammy, and Nelson had such a great time he made a follow-up of his own and paid Toots and company back by having them guest on it.


“Busted” with Ray Charles
From Genius & Friends (2004)

I know “Seven Spanish Angels” was a number 1 hit and more people remember it fondly, but this late redo of an early Charles hit has equal doses of warmth, reflection and edge in both voices. Charles was certainly not at his vocal peak, but he found a way to make his treatment effective, while Willie as always proves the ideal partner in multiple ways.


“Family Bible” with The Blind Boys of Alabama
From Take the High Road (2011)

The album title indicates precisely what Nelson does here, singing with verve and fire while the Blind Boys bring some of their characteristic Golden Age gospel energy and intensity to this rendition that’s alternately wistful, memorable and poignant. This composition dates back to Nelson’s late ’50s catalog, while he was trying to get heard as a songwriter.


“Grandma’s Hands” with Mavis Staples
From To All the Girls (2013)

Mavis Staples has one foot in the church and the other in the street with her customarily powerhouse voice setting the tone. Nelson manages not to get overridden or canceled out in the process as they do their own special version of the Bill Withers hit, which the Staples Singers cut for their 1973 Stax LP, Be What You Are.


“Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream” with Charles Lloyd and the Marvels
From I Long to See You (2015)

The great Memphis jazz man Charles Lloyd and his newest group provide the backing for what comes off as a cross between a nightmarish vision and a marvelous revelation, sung in emphatic fashion by Nelson and punctuated by Lloyd adding some nifty licks underneath and the Marvels adding some musical punch.


ALBUMS

Country Man (2005)

A follow-up to his appearance on Toots’ LP the year before, Nelson goes full bore into reggae territory. Some of it works, some of it doesn’t, but all of it is performed with enthusiasm and joy. Nelson vocally handles the skittering reggae rhythms well, and on the disc’s best songs surpasses what he did on True Love.


Two Men and the Blues (2008)

Wynton Marsalis as a youthful prodigy had a lot of negative things to say about a lot of things back in the ’70s and early ’80s, and country music wasn’t spared in his broadsides. But fast forward all these years later and his gorgeous trumpet solos (both full and muted) made a great musical partner and support system for Nelson, who by now was so familiar with pre-rock, blues, and even traditional jazz tunes and rhythms that it was super smooth sailing from first note to the end. Also recommended: the DVDs Live From Jazz at Lincoln Center with Wynton Marsalis (2008) and Willie Nelson & Wynton Marsalis Play the Music of Ray Charles (2009).


Here We Go Again: Celebrating the Genius of Ray Charles (2011)

Marsalis and Norah Jones joined Nelson to pay homage to his friend Ray Charles, doing wonderful renditions of both hits and more obscure Charles tunes before a rousing audience. Nelson sounded especially energetic throughout, while Marsalis, who’s often been accused of being more technically expert than emotionally powerful, delivered crushing solos and accompaniment, and Jones was equal parts alluring and engaging. As always, Nelson comes across as sincere and genuine, a marvelous mix of down-home sensibility and attitude.


Photos: Pamela Springsteen

BGS 5+5: Logan Ledger

Artist: Logan Ledger
Hometown: Born in Los Angeles, but I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area
Latest album: Logan Ledger
Personal nicknames: Double L, The Lorax

Which artist has influenced you the most and how?

This might surprise some people, but I’d have to say Bob Dylan. When I was about 12 years old, my dad started taking guitar lessons from a guy in town named Nick Shryock — a real mensch. I caught the bug and before long I started riding along with my dad. He would take his lesson first while I waited in another room and did homework, etc. Nick gave me a book of Bob Dylan songs — just chord diagrams and lyrics — to get me going with basic cowboy chords and the like.

But it had a much more profound effect on me. I became obsessed. I listened to every Dylan album I could get my hands on. I went deep. Before long I was trying to figure out where Dylan learned all that stuff. Through Bob I got into all sorts of old time folk music and blues: Roscoe Holcomb, Mississippi John Hurt, the New Lost City Ramblers, on and on. I became an old folkie at heart and it’s stuck with me. Finding Bob Dylan basically established the whole trajectory of my life in music.

What’s your favorite memory from being on a stage?

One of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to do is play in T Bone Burnett’s band at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco. It’s especially meaningful to me having grown up there. I think the first time I went to the festival I was fourteen years old. We played it once in 2016, and again in 2017. Just so cool. My parents came out, a bunch of people I knew from high school… The first time was only a few months after I met T Bone — totally surreal. I’ll always be grateful he asked me to be a part of it.

In 2016 the band had a more traditional lineup — bass, drums, guitar, fiddle, etc. — but in 2017 T Bone decided to play material from his album The Invisible Light, a wild mix of spoken word and electronic music, material that didn’t exactly fit the expectations for a rootsy festival. It was an incredible experience, totally transgressive. Some people didn’t quite know how to take it. It cemented my respect for T Bone as a consummate artist unafraid to take chances. Standing up there on the stage, it felt like we were really doing something. It was a tremendously inspiring experience.

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

Before I was doing the whole move-to-Nashville thing, I was a film student at Columbia University. I was a huge film geek all through high school and although I didn’t start out in college thinking I would get a film degree, eventually the pull was too strong and I switched majors. It’s sort of strange to think about now, but that experience definitely altered my brain. I tend to approach songs like soundtracks for mini movies running in my head.

I don’t know if that means they’re cinematic per se, but I’m hyper conscious of the sonic mise-en-scène songs evoke. Sometimes I’m really just trying to put over the feel of a specific place or time or place. There are also particular films that have stuck with me that have most certainly formed my aesthetic predilections. Really I’m probably just trying to transform Paris, Texas into a song over and over again.

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

Even though I didn’t pick up the guitar until I was 12 or so, I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember. I would put together little impromptu performances for my parents. After that, I graduated to school musicals and whatnot. I was always performing. However, I think the first time I became fully conscious of what it meant to be a “singer” and a stylist was when my grandmother gave me a CD of Elvis hits. I must have been 8 or 9. That was a total epiphany. I wanted to be just like Elvis. I studied his delivery, and definitely did a lot of imitating. But it was a learning process. So much of my early childhood days as a musician were spent doing that kind of thing. I think it was valuable training. Eventually though I had to find my own style.

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

I would love to get together with Willie Nelson over a bowl of real-deal ramen. I don’t know if he’s a ramen guy, but this is my fantasy, and who doesn’t like ramen? There also might be, shall we say, certain botanicals involved… In all seriousness though, Willie Nelson is a huge hero of mine. He showed us all how to push the creative boundaries of country singing and songwriting. Such a tremendous gift to music and humanity, a full-spectrum artist. And he’s still going strong.


Photo credit: Laura E. Partain (See the photo story.)

The String – Beth Nielsen Chapman

Often when songwriters talk process, we hear the same few nuggets about craft on repeat. Not Nashville Songwriters Hall of Famer Beth Nielsen Chapman, though. She has a deeply considered take on the art form and the personal work and qualities of mindfulness that truly unlock creative potential.

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Chapman’s workshops and lectures are in high demand and coming in 2020 she launches The Song School, a podcast that will include her wisdom and critiques of real songs in real time. Here, she invites host Craig Havighurst into her home studio to talk about her success as an artist and writer for others (Willie Nelson, Tanya Tucker, Faith Hill, Trisha Yearwood, and many more) and how she keeps the flame lit.

Crystal Gayle Goes Deep into Classic Country

It’s a little startling when Crystal Gayle pops into the hallway of her Music Row office and cheerfully waves for this writer to come on back. Along with being a charming and welcoming host, she’s also one of country music’s most identifiable entertainers, a Grand Ole Opry member, a Grammy winner, and a genuine class act.

She’s also a recording artist again, ending a 16-year absence with You Don’t Know Me, a collection of country classics that honors her heroes, as well as her sister, Loretta Lynn, and Loretta’s late husband, Mooney Lynn. It was Mooney, she says, that ushered her into the spotlight as a teenager, and that memory prompted Gayle to begin the album with “Ribbon of Darkness,” a Marty Robbins hit in 1965.

“‘Ribbon of Darkness’ was my first song on the Opry,” she recalls. “I was probably 16 or 17, and my sister Loretta was sick and Mooney talked them into letting me get on stage and sing a song in her place. It was just a thrill! Of course, later on when I started out, I opened for Marty Robbins. Marty was so incredible. I got to work with Jack Greene, Stringbean, Grandpa Jones, Bill Monroe. … My album is filled with songs that mean something to me. This is a part of my life that a lot of people don’t know about.”

Gayle co-produced the album with her son, Christos, and continued the family connection by recording “Put It Off Until Tomorrow” with both of her singing sisters, Loretta Lynn and Peggy Sue. She also unearthed “You Never Were Mine,” a tearjerker written by her late brother Jay Lee Webb. Surrounded by fan gifts and photos from throughout her career, Gayle visited with BGS about her earliest days in Nashville, how she found her own voice, and why she’s still fond of her own country classic, “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.”

BGS: What was it like for you as a new artist in 1970, meeting Jack Greene, Marty Robbins, and all of these stars?

CG: I was in awe of everybody, but of course when Loretta would come through town — because she was singing as I was growing up — she would be with maybe Ferlin Husky. I remember loving that. Or the Wilburn Brothers. They were incredible! I loved the harmony that they did. I could sit and listen to their music all day long, I just loved it. Of course I was a fan as well, but you have to give them their space. [Laughs] I learned that from Loretta.

I’m curious about Mooney. How did he influence your career?

Mooney really believed in my ability of singing. He loved my voice and he actually got my contract with Decca Records, but the best thing about it, he got a very short contract. It was the long ones that can ruin a lot of artists, because now they’re on this label, they’ve got so many years left, and they can’t do anything and [the label isn’t] helping them at all. They are not pushing the records.

So I was very lucky when my contract was up and Owen [Bradley] called me in. It was like, “Well, you’re going to do this, this, this, or we say bye.” I said, “Okay, bye.” [Laughs] I mean, it was hard. It was a hard time and I really thought at that time, “I’m just going to go back to Indiana and do what I’m doing.” I was married and my husband was going to Indiana University. Then when we moved to Nashville, he went to Vanderbilt in law school.

But I was just lucky. I was in the right place at the right time because before I left town, I was fulfilling my [appearance] obligations and I ran into Lynn Shults, who was with United Artists. We were just talking and he says, “Well, what label are you with now?” I said, “No one.” He said, “Will you come and talk to me Monday?” So things fell into place. And they put me with Allen Reynolds.

To say the least, that worked out.

Oh it did.

There was one song here I didn’t recognize – “I’ve Seen That Look on Me a Thousand Times.”

That was a song that our engineer Eric Prestidge loved. He said, “You’ve got to listen to this.” It was a song that I thought, “You know, a girl doesn’t really sing this… And I’m going to do it.” And I loved that it was a Harlan Howard song.

Several times on this record, it’s a woman singing about the drinking and the cheating. What is it about those flawed characters that makes you want to step into those shoes?

I’ve always said that if I had all the heartache I’ve sung about in my songs, I’d be in poor shape. So you’re a little bit of an actress or an actor. I’ve worked so many little clubs and bars on the way up — and even in high school I’d work the little places I could get into without getting anybody in trouble — that you saw the heartache. You saw the people that these songs really was their life.

So you can get into that and sing about it. “Just One More” was one of Mooney’s favorite songs and when they’d come through and stop at Mom’s house, I’d have to sing a cappella — he had me learn “Just One More.”

How old were you?

I was probably in sixth or seventh grade. [Laughs] “Just one more and then another…”

A drinking song from a 12-year-old.

“I’ll keep drinking, it don’t matter….” [Laughs]

You’ve included “Hello Walls,” written by the great Willie Nelson. As a co-producer, what kind of vibe were you going for?

I was actually going to go for the style that Faron Young did, and have the type of harmonies with the “hello, hello” … and we didn’t [use that idea] because I let other people influence me. They said, “No, you can’t, you’ve got to change it a little.” But I did my own harmony on that particular song. You know, I opened for Faron. I used his band and we did some dates together.

I remember rehearsing with him and the group. They were incredible guys, and very, very special to me. They’d watch out. I was that young girl that — all of them, even Conway Twitty — if I was on their shows, they were going to watch out for me because as the little sister of Loretta, they knew that she’d kill them if they didn’t!

Here you are, this young woman, 20 or 21 years old, starting out with these middle-aged guys who are stars. I wondered how they treated you.

Everyone treated me great and I think it really showed a lot of respect as well for my sister. And you know, I’m not someone that’s going to come out there and be that floozy, too. I think the way you present yourself is a part of it. But no, they were all very, very, very good.

And with Faron, when I wanted to do “Hello Walls,” I had completely forgotten that Willie Nelson had written the song and I’m starting to sing it, and I said, “Of course, the phrasing.”

Your phrasing is distinct, too. At what point did you find your own voice, do you think?

I think working with Allen. He would say, “Now sing this song, do it different ways, and then listen back and see which you like the best.” See, he let me listen to my voice and not just go in and sing the song. Because I was a belter. I remember going in the first time and Charles Cochran’s playing the piano and I’m singing at the top of my lungs. Allen grins and he says, “Can you sing it a little bit lighter?” [Laughs] … Allen was laid-back like me, and was not forceful, but he did pull out things within me. He’d say, “Do you like this song? Because you’re going to be the one singing it. You better like it.”

What a gift, instead of a producer just telling you what to do.

Oh, it was incredible. I was used to people telling me everything but Allen knew it was going to be me out there pounding the road and he wanted me to have the songs that I felt really comfortable with. I get asked the question, “Do you ever get tired of singing ‘Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue’?” I don’t, because that song — Richard Leigh wrote it — is so well-written. I’ve always said it says so much in so little. I love it that it’s not all these words I have to think about to sing. There are so many songs out there where it’s like, “OK, what verse is next?” But this song just flows, and I think that’s one of the reasons that it was as big as it was.


Photo courtesy of the artist.

LISTEN: Monica Rizzio, “Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting”

Artist: Monica Rizzio
Hometown: Cape Cod, Massachusetts
Song: “Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting”
Album: Sunshine Is Free
Release Date: October 4, 2019
Label: Washashore Music

In Their Words: “Growing up on the music of Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Patsy Cline and Dolly Parton, my first instinct was to count beats like the the old country waltzes, 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3. Most of my writing the past few years has been a cocktail of one part Texas Roots, one part the miles of my boots, and I had never written a waltz before. The chorus for ‘Don’t Keep Me Up Waiting’ came to me before the rest of the song, as my husband and his buddies had a pretty good Sunday Night Irish Whiskey and Football ritual going on at the local pub last winter. They are totally harmless, were having a blast, but they are also totally clueless. This song is for them.” — Monica Rizzio


Photo credit: Joe Navas

Vince Gill Lets New Songs Stand Out on ‘Okie’ (Part 1 of 2)

Regarded as one of the good guys in country music, Vince Gill has hosted countless Grand Ole Opry segments and awards shows, and he’s just as welcoming off stage, too. He generously invited the Bluegrass Situation to his Nashville home for a visit about his new album, Okie, as well as his roots in bluegrass music.

In the first part of our Artist of the Month interview, the Country Music Hall of Fame member pulls back the curtain on some of the key tracks on Okie, and explains how artists like Guy Clark, Amy Grant, and Willie Nelson influenced the album.

BGS: I’ve heard you describe this as a songwriter record, but you’ve written a lot of your hits. What do you mean when you describe this as a songwriter record?

VG: Well, I don’t think the intention of any of these songs is thinking they’ll be hits. I think that in the way of production and the instrumentation, the intent is really to never get in the way of the song. I don’t play any electric guitar on this record. I only played one or two solos on the entire record.

The rest of it is just kind of moody, ethereal, all of us playing together, and nobody stepping out so much in a big way of, “Now it’s your break, it’s time for you to play the big ripping solo.” There’s one instance of that. I think the point of it was, hopefully, that nothing ever got in the way of the song.

And there’s not big choruses with lots of harmonies. I liked Red Headed Stranger by Willie Nelson, and how sparse it was and simple. That’s what I wanted, something with a lot of space.

Did you know that going into it or did that reveal itself?

Yeah, that was the intent. I had this collection of songs. I said this would make a pretty neat, demure kind of record of not trying too hard, I guess. I mean, not singing hard and a lot of licks. Once again, there’s only one song on this record where I really cut loose and sang, and that was “When My Amy Prays.” The rest of it is just telling the story.

I even did a recitation on “Nothing Like a Guy Clark Song,” which scared the crap out of me. I don’t like the sound of my speaking voice very much. I like my singing voice just fine. But I’d only done one other kind of recitation recording in my life and that was tribute to Guy with his song, “The Randall Knife.” It always sounded bizarre to me to hear myself just talking, talking blues kinda stuff.

How did you choose the guitar for that song? Do you have a certain guitar you use?

Yeah, I think I used my guitar or Sparky’s — a friend of mine, Harry Sparks. He’s got a great old 1942 D-45. He lets me keep it here and play it a lot. It’s a long history of a story of our friendship. It’s probably the holy grail of all acoustic guitars and there’s only a few of them made and they sell for many, many, many dollars. And he had it.

I was living in Kentucky at the same time, when I was 18, and we were big buddies. Couple of years later I moved out to California and he called me up when I got out there and said, “Hey, I got to sell my D-45. I’m in trouble.” I bought it from him and told him I’d keep it for him. If he ever wanted it back, I’d sell it back to him for what I paid for it. At the time he finally called, it was worth about 10 times what I paid for it. And I said, “Yeah, I’ll sell it back to you for what I said I would.”

It’s a great story to remind yourself of how important friendship is, and your word. A few years ago we were doing a record here at my house and he brought his D-45 and we played it on a bunch in the record. He was leaving, and he had the case, and he looked at me and just handed to me. He said, “Here. You need to keep this for a while.” So it’s been a neat piece of the puzzle of our friendship.

It sounds beautiful. too, on top of that.

Amazing. It’s one of the best-sounding guitars I’ve ever heard in my life.

You write about race relations on this record a couple of times, particularly on “The Price of Regret.” I was curious if something specific inspired you to explore that topic.

It starts out as basically owning up to, we all have to have some regrets in life, and what they are can be any number of things. But what I’ve always been surprised by is how our eyes fail us. Sometimes when we see something and we look at it, we judge it. It’s the first thing we do is prejudge. Whether someone’s heavy, whether someone’s slovenly-looking, or poor or rich or white or black, and we just have this thing come to us to tell us what we think it is.

If we would honestly receive someone, not seeing them, I think you’d be much more honest in acceptance of one another. That’s what it says in that song: “You’re black and I’m white. We’re blinded by sight. Close your eyes and tell me the color of my skin.” And you couldn’t. Which would be a good thing for us.

At your Ryman show, you spoke about watching the Ken Burns documentary about country music, and you mentioned the fact that AP Carter’s sidekick was a black man, and Hank Williams learned to play guitar from a black man.

Yeah, and DeFord Bailey was one of the first great stars of the Opry and Jimmie Rodgers learned all those songs from black fieldworkers. It goes on and on and it never stops. Ray Charles taught us how much soul our music had. Charley Pride showed you how country somebody could be that was African American. It was powerful to see that we never bought into any of that mess, to some degree. And it is a mess. It’s embarrassing how we’ve handled all that.

The song I keep coming back to on here is “What Choice Will You Make.” I feel like I’m the best friend in the car, hearing that conversation. That first line puts you in the song right away, or at least it did for me.

My favorite part of that song is that it’s a song without judgment, and it happens every day. Young kids wind up, somebody gets pregnant and, “Hey, I’m 16. Look, I wasn’t prepared for this.” And all it says is, “What choice will you make? Whose heart will you break?” It doesn’t say what you should or shouldn’t do. To me, that’s a kinder way to go about tackling the subject of this matter.

The woman I wrote it with, Leslie Satcher, we’ve got a long history of writing really neat songs together. She’s tremendously talented. It was important to me that it not get to that place where we were saying what should or shouldn’t happen. That’s nobody’s place. It’s sort of like “Ode to Billie Joe.” You don’t really know what happens. It starts in that moment of sitting on the edge of town with such a worried mind, and it ends with still sitting there on the edge of town, not sure what to do.

On this record, I hear references to Amy [his wife, Amy Grant] a couple of times, on “Honest Man” and “When My Amy Prays,” of course.  What’s that experience like, playing her a song you’ve written about her?

It’s a running gag. You know you live in Nashville when you write your girl a love song and she tells you the third verse could use a little work. [Laughs] It’s really great to have a friend that does tell you what’s right and what’s not and what’s good and what isn’t. It’s easy to be inspired by her because she’s so gracious with people. She’s the most welcoming person I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Hands down. Nobody I ever seen better at that than her.

And non-judgment. No harsh words about anybody and it’s just beautiful in the way she receives. It’s kind of easy to write songs about her. If they’re songs that are faith-based, everybody assumes that I’m as a big of a church guy as she is. And the truth is, I wasn’t that much of a church kid. So I have to go to her every now and then and say, “Is this kind of close to what happens?” [Laughs] She’ll say, “You’re right on track. You’re OK.”

Read the second half of our Artist of the Month interview with Vince Gill.


Illustration: Zachary Johnson