Artist Spotlight

Kimmi Bitter’s Old School swaggers (“My Grass Is Blue”) and sways (“I Can’t Unlove You”) with effortless elegance. We recently talked with the San Diego-based singer about her songwriting, Sixties music and the excellent new collection.

“Everything artistic-wise was so fun in the Sixties,” Bitter says. “Fashion was really cool and weird. Cars were cooler colors than today, and there was so much style and creativity. The music has stood the test of time. The Beatles never go out of style.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the new album took shape.

Kimmi Bitter: I’ve been been working on the album for the past two years with Michael Gurley since we co-wrote our first song “My Grass Is Blue” in 2022. We released “My Grass Is Blue” as a single and it picked up some traction like when Saving Country Music nominated the song as single of the year. We were like, “Oh, wow.” Then “My Grass Is Blue” was nominated for song of the year at my hometown San Diego Music Awards. We said, “Maybe we should make a whole album.”

Tell the story behind ‘I Can’t Unlove You.’

Michael Gurley wrote that one. The album is equal parts songs I wrote on my own and Mike wrote on his own and songs we co-wrote. We just picked the strongest songs. “I Can’t Unlove You” was the last song we added to the album because I wanted a classic ballad. Mike wrote that on his own and was like, “I think this is the ballad the album is missing. It could be really good with your voice.”

That song sounds like Patsy Cline.

Yeah, it definitely has the timeless early Sixties Countrypolitan style that she made really popular. It’s my favorite to sing. “I Can’t Unlove You” was inspired by Patsy’s work with the Jordinaires and anything Elvis and did with the Jordinaires. Such cool production with those background singers. We wanted that song to be styled like that and to make a whole album around the vein of the music we love even though the music sounds outdated.

I was gonna ask you to explain the title Old School, but I think you just did.

(Laughs) Yeah. I wasn’t sure what the album was gonna be called, but then Michael said, “I have this song called “Old School” that I feel like you could (finish) really fast. I worked on it, sent the song back to him and then he sent me what he had. I thought that track should be what the album is called because the songs are our take on the sounds we love from the Sixties. That was the theme of the whole album.

Explain what draws you to that music.

I just love it. I feel like music was peaking in the Sixties and not just country but across all the genres. So good. That decade was special. Maybe it was the perfect combination of technology (developing) but not being so advanced that you still really had to work your craft. Music was a business, but it wasn’t as formulaic as it is now. Music had really good things going for it in the Sixties. The American Dream was alive and well. I wish I grew up listening to that music.

You don’t think you’d be into twenties music if you grew up in the Sixties?

I don’t. I talk to people who grew up in the Sixties and they are like, “That was such a great time. We had such good music.” They still love the music from that time. There’s something going on right now with my generation being nostalgic for a past we didn’t live in. I’ve always had an affinity for throwback sounds and have tried to recreate that with my music even before this album, but it seems very trendy now.

Ted Russell Kamp’s California Son balances rock (the title track) and roll (“Hard to Hold”) with Greenwich Village folk (“Hanging on Blues”). We recently spoke with Kamp about the new collection, his influences and songwriting during the pandemic.

“I would go to my drummer’s house during the pandemic because he has a home studio,” Kamp says. “I’d record acoustic guitar and vocal and then would record bass and drums live. Then I would take the recording back home and finish it on my own.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how California Son took shape. 

Ted Russell Kamp: My last record Solitaire was my acoustic quarantine record. I wrote a lot of these songs thinking they would be on Solitaire, but the album started getting more defined and these songs were too fun and rocking. I decided to make Solitaire more intimate. California Son is more rocking. I knew California Son should be more celebratory because we could be out in public again. So, I saved a bunch of these songs not knowing what they would be. I wanted a high energy level.

Describe the album’s common lyrical theme. 

I was compiling my favorite eight or ten songs and discovered there was a theme. Songs like “Ballad of a Troubadour” and “High Desert Fever” are about California and me being a professional musician. “Miracle Mile” is about this great little strip in a really famous neighborhood in Los Angeles. Then I realized, “Hey, this is a California record. I should just go for it.” The last songs I wrote for the album were “California Son” and “Hanging on Blues.” I went through a John Prine kick and wanted to have this talking blues like him. 

Tell the story behind writing the title track.

I thought, This is autobiographical about moving to Seattle and listening to Tom Waits when I moved to Hollywood. I don’t know if people are really gonna care, but then I thought about it in terms of it being my dream as a professional musician to come to Los Angeles and be a part of this community and history. This was my dream coming true. I hopefully still have another thirty years of making music, but I thought about it in terms of the Tom Petty documentary Running Down a Dream. 

Describe how Petty’s experience was like yours.

Those guys were all from Florida, but they came to Los Angeles to make the dream come true. It worked. Some like Jackson Browne were raised in L.A. and made it work. Tom Waits, Rickie Lee Jones, Los Lobos all came to L.A. to make the dream come true. Even go back to Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Gene Autry and Charlie Chaplin coming out here and recording. The list goes on and on. I was like, “Wow, I’m really part of this legacy.” 

Explain the draw Los Angeles has. 

Los Angeles has a a really powerful, wonderful, inspiring mythology that lets people dream. So, “California Son” isn’t just about me talking about what I did last Wednesday. The song is about me being a part of this huge and wonderful tradition. I was like, “Yes, this album is now California Son.” This isn’t just a good, new song but the title of the album that states the theme.

Willi Carlisle’s Critterland frames narratives personal (the title track) and peripheral (“Dry County Dust”). We recently spoke with the Midwest native about the new collection, studying at the University of Arkansas and writing during the pandemic.

“Critterland begins with the pandemic,” Carlisle says. “I tried and failed to move onto an intentional community in rural Arkansas. I realized that there were parts of my brain that weren’t being accessed while I was spending time out there.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Were you productive during the pandemic itself?

Willi Carlisle: I wrote a ton, but it was goop. The writing was like organizing clay into lumps if I were a sculptor. I was making shapes that I’m now making into actual sculptures. Some was productive, but some wasn’t. I realized my personal freedoms had been taken up by your standard brain rot like social media and television. There were stories kicking around that I’ve been trying to bury or move on from. I wanted to write songs about those feelings and times on Critterland.

Explain the album title Critterland.

I needed a name for the place. I didn’t want to just use the actual name of the intentional community, which is called Meadowcreek in Stone County, Arkansas. I called it Critterland because all of these animals were coming out of the woods the first couple nights I stayed out there. It was the first time I had lived in a place for any length of time that was more the property of the animals than yours. That was interesting to get used to.

The narrator gets arrested in the title track. What did you get busted for?

Lord. Just pot. Nothing hardcore fun or intense. I was teaching at a community college and nearly lost the job. The writing was on the wall at that moment that I had to leave that work behind. They weren’t gonna put up with me and I wasn’t very good at the job. I had gained a lot of weight, was doing a lot of drugs and was bored. Folk singing was what I really wanted to do. Honestly, getting arrested was one of the best things that happened to me.

Did you base a common lyrical theme around that intentional community?

Not really, but it is based around songs that I have avoided singing or wanted to do for a long time but didn’t feel courageous enough to do. Trying out that intentional community was a big personal leap for me. I wanted to write songs that were more leaps of faith and asking people to listen to more difficult songs. I’ve been really pleased with the payoffs from those risks.

Tell the story behind writing ‘Dry County Dust.’

“Dry County Dust” is a little of someone else’s true story and a little invention. You end up creating characters out of several different scenarios in many Americana songs. My own grandmother is the character in that song in my estimation. She was always forgiving and would never ask questions about what trouble I was in. I was imagining if my friends had a safe place to go and be like that while they were suffering.

I read that you have an MFA in poetry. Where did you go to grad school?

The University of Arkansas. I knew I wanted to play banjo and old-time music and fiddle and needed a way to get there. My first leap of faith in life was to go to a liberal arts college. I felt pretty out of place when I was there. It was amazing as an artist, but as a person I was from a small town and wasn’t used to being around people who wanted to doctors and lawyers. I was just looking to move on with life and didn’t want to have more bad jobs. So, I applied and got in at West Virginia and Arkansas.

I already had my banjo and fiddle teachers picked out at both places. I went to Arkansas because there were teaching jobs available. I could teach and pay my way through school at the same time. So, my folk music and writing journeys were happening at the same time. I didn’t really enjoy graduate school that much because I found that I wanted to be a folk singer much more than I wanted to be a page poet. I’m really grateful I did.

Didn’t Lucinda’s dad Miller Williams teach at the University of Arkansas?

Oh man. Absolutely. I got there and was like, “Whoa, are you serious? Is she ever around?” Miller Williams was one reason I wanted to go there. There’s a whole pantheon of poets in the same way you have local folk singers and local ways of knowing fiddle tunes. There are also local poets and they all comprise this beautiful oral tradition that lived in Arkansas. I would go into bars and be like, “I know this poet drank here because it’s in his poem.” I urinated in a bar in Northwest Arkansas and was like, “I know Frank Stanford, one of my favorite poets, pissed in this bar.”

Talk about working with Darrell Scott as your producer.

Darrell is a genius. We actually talked about poetry and songs for the whole first night instead of working on the record and we only had three days. We were having so much fun. The whole record with two exceptions is just Darrell and me playing instruments. We were playing at the same time with two microphones with a little overdubbing. There was a lot of cards-on-the-table critique. He would say, “I don’t think this works for this song” or “I don’t think this tempo works for this song.” We had good faith discussions in a really honest, open and a little adversarial manner. I learned a lot in three days. Darrell was very patient.

Jim Kweskin’s Duets with My Friends both brightens (‘Let’s Be Happy Together’) and darkens (‘The Cuckoo’) classic old-time folk songs. All shine. “The record started out with the idea of doing duets,” Kweskin says. “I was thinking about all these women who I perform and record with. We have some really cool songs.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe working with Maria Muldaur today.

Jim Kweskin: Maria joined my band in 1964, but we haven’t sung together often over the past fifty years. We don’t do the same songs now that we did back then, so we’re always learning new things. Maria and I did two songs on this album: “The Sheik of Araby” and “Let’s Get Happy Together.” We did “The Sheik of Araby” a long time ago, but “Let’s Get Happy Together” is new. We’re always adding songs to our repertoire. These are all old songs, but they’re new to me sometimes.

Explain what drew you to ‘Let’s Get Happy Together.’

That song originally was recorded in the Forties by Lil Hardin Armstrong. She was Louis Armstrong’s wife back in the Twenties and played piano on his Hot Five and Hot Seven records. She was his second of four wives and went on to have her own career writing and performing. She wrote “Let’s Get Happy Together.” Maria brought the song to me.

You’ve said you ‘uncover’ traditional songs instead of covering them. Explain.

Well, think about it. You do songs that somebody else wrote nowadays it’s called covering them. No such concept existed back in the olden days. A song would come out and there would be six or eight versions immediately. There would be country, blues, pop and maybe a jazz version. Everybody was recording new and old songs. Now you do a song that’s written by Adele or the Beatles and it’s called covering.

I was playing for a friendly audience one night and said, “Am I covering a song if I do a song recorded a hundred years ago?” “No,” they said, “you’re uncovering it.” I loved that concept. That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. I find these wonderful old tunes that people might not be familiar with and record them. I don’t even think about covering or uncovering. I’m just picking a good song.    

Your ‘Cuckoo’ is darker and haunting than most.

“The Cuckoo” just felt like it should have been done that way. I originally heard Clarence Ashley’s version. He recorded “The Cuckoo” on the Appalachian banjo back in the late Twenties in modal tuning. I thought, Might be cool if I finger pick the song in a minor key. I tried doing it fast, but that didn’t fit my feeling and rhythm, so I slowed it down until I was happy with it.

Talk about Jesse Benton who sang the song with you.

I’ve known Jesse since the mid-Sixties. She had a beautiful soprano voice but never wanted to be an entertainer or performer. Jesse came to visit me during a recording session and I said, “Hey, let’s do this song together. You wanna sing ‘The Cockoo’ with me?” “Okay. What the hell.” It was a magic moment. I finally got her to release a song. She could have been a star like Joan Baez, but she just never wanted to be.

Our last interview with the late, great Peter Cooper was about Nanci Griffith, whose tribute album More Than a Whisper: Celebrating the Music of Nanci Griffith again tops the Alt.Country Specialty Chart this week. Following are excerpts. 

“I would go straight to the Jim Rooney-produced projects if someone asked me why Nanci was so good,” the former Country Music Hall of Fame curator said. “Albums like Once in a Very Blue Moon, The Last of the True Believers and the first Other Voices Other Rooms really show her genius.”

Alt.Country Specialty Chart: Explain how you discovered Nanci Griffith.

Peter Cooper: I was a high schooler living in the Washington, D.C. area when Nanci often played the Birchmere in Alexandria, Virginia. I remember reading a review of her Little Love Affairs album in the Washington Post. The review quoted her lyrics, “I remember waving back at you from a silted windowpane” (from “So Long Ago”). I thought, That is a different level of poetic country music. 

Did you see her frequently back then?

Well, she was coming to the Birchmere shortly thereafter. My habit during those days was to go really early to shows because the Birchmere show wasn’t assigned tickets. They were general admission. The doors opened two hours before the show, so I got there four hours before the show so I could be at the front of the line. I remember you could hear sound check even from outside.

What songs was she sound checking with?

The first one I heard was Nanci playing “Listen to the Radio” with her band. I thought, This is something else. Nanci’s voice had such a power. Then I saw she had such charisma when I did get in there to see the show. I knew I was in the presence of something very special. Of course, Nanci was beautiful. I had a crush on her instantly. 

Describe Nanci’s stage presence.

I remember her eyes searching the room to make sure everyone there knew she was paying attention and not going through the motions. She would set those eyes on you, which was magnetic when you’re a high school student who had showed up four hours early. Plus, she was doing that while playing guitar at such a high level. 

Yeah, her guitar work was way underrated. 

Totally. Her guitar playing gets overlooked. Nanci came from a guitar tradition that went from Lightnin’ Hopkins to Eric Taylor to her generation, which included Lyle Lovett. Nanci was a masterful guitarist. Having that lyrical command at the same time as the instrumental command was very rare. 

Was she still playing guitar with a thumb pick? 

She was. Nanci played with these finger picks that had been developed by Eric Taylor. The thumb pick was plastic that was bradded to a metal pick. She often used alternate tunings. Hers was a fascinating way to play, and I know Eric had a lot to do with that as he did with Lyle Lovett. She was something else. I don’t just mean she was wonderful. I mean she was something else.  

Eric was Nanci’s ex-husband but also probably her greatest influence. 

There’s no way to overstate Eric’s influence on Nanci.. Listen to his song “Dollar Matinee,” which Nanci recorded on her first album. The song is so rich in imagery. Then there’s Eric’s song “Deadwood,” which Nanci retitled “Deadwood, South Dakota” to Eric’s eternal aggravation. You got the story of American racism in the way that’s never been told. 

Nanci deserves a lot of credit for releasing “Deadwood” on a major label on One Fair Summer Evening, the live at Anderson Fair album. Also, Nanci recorded Eric’s incredible song “Storms” after they were divorced. She then had Eric involved with the Other Voices Other Rooms project. Nanci could be incredibly gracious. 

She loved introducing songwriters. Did you discover anyone else through her?

James McMurtry was another person she effectively introduced me to. I was nineteen, living in San Francisco and working at the Wharf gift shop. Nanci came to the Fillmore West with an incredible band that included David Halley, Doug Hudson, and Denice Franke. I did my same trick getting there very early so I could have a seat at the front table. Her opening act had had an album out for about a week. 

The opener was James McMurtry, who was supporting his incredible debut album Too Long in the Wasteland. His explosive band included David Grissom. Amazing. Some headliners don’t want an opener who will be incredible, but Nanci seemed so gracious and thankful to have James there. His performance was masterful.

Nick Shoulders’ All Bad fortifies wisdom (the opening “Hoarse Whisperer”) and wit (“Hook, Line and Sinker”) with endless energy (“Blue Endless Highway”). We recently spoke with the Arkansas native about his excellent new collection.

“All Bad is definitely a road album,” Shoulders says. “The record is very much a reflection of the conditions out here. This was a response rather than a knee-jerk reaction to a rapidly changing and challenging world for musicians.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Do you typically write on the road?

Nick Shoulders: Nothing has been typical for the past three years. I went from playing little honky tonks in New Orleans and Arkansas and seasonally living out of the van to things really skyrocketing for us in the pandemic void.

My songs getting notice really happened when no action could be taken – no new tours, no new records. My pandemic album Home on the Rage was a reflection of that time, and this album reflects this time. The songs all have some notion of movement.

Were you more creative during the pandemic?

The pandemic gave me creative space to think about what I’m doing and not just be in the throes of the New Orleans honky tonk scene or trying to survive out on some self-booked tour living in my van. Most musicians I know had a pretty grand reassessment of their craft and what it means to create during the pandemic.  

Tell the story behind writing the opening track (‘Hoarse Whisperer’).

I spent lots of time on back roads in Arkansas and Louisiana during the pandemic. I was just driving around down there one day and came over a hilltop overlooking the scene before me on Ouachita mountain. That melody hit like a thunderclap as I was looking out at the pavement glistening.

The song is a remarkable little capture of how it felt to be out there on these empty back roads between my communities in Arkansas and New Orleans. The album needed a little first warning shot. “Here it comes. This is the world waking back up.”

A two-minute instrumental prelude is an interesting way to start an album.

Yeah, and there are funny little musical things about the song. “Hoarse Whisperer” is in the key of A and ends on a last note that does not resolve. The next songs starts in E, which would be the resolution the opening song should have end on.

I noticed that. You did that on purpose.

Totally. I figured there would be a point when we play “Hoarse Whisperer” live. I knew (the second track) “Blue Endless Highway” would open the record. I wanted to give that song a runway and not just drop it on people.

Some magazine said you don’t play your grandpa’s country.

I remember that quote. I would just rebuff and say I actually call what we do grandpa music. I sing in a style and vocal lineage that I inherited from my grandparents. I’ve had other past string bands, but I decided to put music out under my own name and really own this. I’m trying to reclaim the folk tradition that my songs really embody.

Perhaps my music isn’t your dad’s country music or maybe it’s more like your great grandpa’s country music, but I call what we do grandpa music on purpose. I was a little turned around by that quote. I didn’t get my vocal lineage from the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. That lineage is inherited and culturally burned into me.

‘Hook, Line and Sinker’ is a classic grandpa-era country title.  

Totally. This album has moments that are dripping with George Jones’ influence. Others are my usual hat’s off to Slim Whitman. I’m also freakishly influenced by Roger Miller, his word play and use of allegory to have a laugh. Having a little fun is definitely the undercurrent on “Hook, Line and Sinker.”

I can hear George Jones singing the line about being a ‘large mouthed bastard.’

(Laughs) Funny you mentioned that. I encountered that phrase ten years ago. I made an informal request among my Facebook friends about what to name our string band. Someone was like, “The Large Mouthed Bastards.” I was like, “Oh my god.” I’ve kept that line in my back pocket since then, but I’m sure there’s a mid-South fishing club on Instagram with two hundred followers called the Large Mouthed Bastards.

Rod Picott’s Paper Hearts and Broken Arrows backs equal measures folk (“Lovers”) and rock (“Revenuer”) with sharp storytelling (“Sonny Liston”). We recently spoke with the Nashville-based songwriter about the seamless new collection.  “The phrase Paper Hearts and Rod Picott’s Paper Hearts and Broken Arrows backs equal measures folk (“Lovers”) and rock (“Revenuer”) with sharp storytelling (“Sonny Liston”). We recently spoke with the Nashville-based songwriter about the seamless new collection.

“The phrase Paper Hearts and Broken Arrows felt like it represented the songs,” Picott says. “There’s a vulnerability but also maybe a failed strength. I thought ‘paper hearts and broken arrows’ were great words and carried a certain weight.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Tell the story behind writing the opening track.

Rod Picott: “Lover” came really quickly. You know, you were just referencing how you couldn’t find the words for a piece you are writing, but then they were just there – and that was fifteen minutes ago for you. That’s how “Lover” was written. I was playing around and moving the E chord up to a higher E. Then I added that high note on the E string and heard a descending melody. The song wrote itself once I had that.

“Lover” was written a lot like “Haunted Man” (from Picott’s 2001 album Tiger Tom Dixon’s Blues). I felt like the song was writing me more than I was writing it, which is a very strange sensation. Songwriters talk about that in interviews. Feels almost like someone else moving your pen. The song is just there all of a sudden. You look back and just go, “Oh, I need to change this word and that one and the order of these verses. There it is.” One minute the song doesn’t exist then twenty minutes later it does.

I think people who don’t write think that idea is frou frou, but my words magically went from shit to great right before I called. How does that happen?

(Laughs) I think any writer’s mind is always working. You’re just not aware of it. Maybe that part is grinding away at it when you have a piece of something. It’s reordering and working on it. It’s a matter of the writer recognizing it. You’re right, it does sound frou frou and esoteric and abstract, but that’s what it feels like. The writing comes through you and you just know how it goes somehow. It’s a mystery.

Can’t beat the feeling. 

The feeling is fantastic, especially when it really comes to fruition easily, simply, without artifice and without you trying. Those are really interesting songs. You don’t feel like you even opened your toolbox and, “Look. I built a table.” (laughs)

Tell the story behind writing ‘Revenuer.’ Great word.

Yeah, it’s from a different time, so you wouldn’t hear it now. I wrote that song after reading Taylor Brown’s Gods of Howl Mountain, which is all about bootlegging back in the Forties. They would send these federal guys down who would go hunting for stills and smash them. Then they would beat up the moonshine makers. Or they would disappear into the hills and never be heard from again (laughs). They had an intriguing cat and mouse game. I thought that ideas was ripe for my kind of language.

Explain how you sequenced. Starting with ‘Revenuer’ would set a different tone.

Yeah, it would. The producer Nielsen Hubbard was really enamored with “Lover.” He really thought we got a great performance that was powerful and intimate. “Listen,” he said when we were sequencing. “You can do what you want with the rest of the record, but that motherfucker’s first. I don’t care that it’s the longest song on the record. That’s a real statement hanging your vulnerability out there.” I said, “Okay.”

The sequence is odd, but I think it works. “Lover” is so soft and vulnerable, but then the beginning of “Revenuer” is so ominous with that piano and the slide guitar. There’s a rumble before the beat even starts. You think, “All right. Now we’re getting ready to go.” The third track “Mona Lisa” is folky, but it’s finger picked and has a pulse. The lyric has a rhythm that feels more like a Dire Straits song. “Dirty T-Shirt” splits the difference and brings it into the erotic world. Of course, “Frankie Lee” is a straight narrative as is “Sonny Liston.”

Explain why you wrote ‘Frankie Lee’ in first person but ‘Sonny Liston’ in third.

Well, “Frankie Lee” is a fictional character I wrote with a woman named Jen Tortorici. You know, I’ve always loved Springsteen’s Nebraska. That album had a huge impact on me as a kid. I loved the characters because I’m drawn to that dark place where people are really fighting for something. I liked the idea of writing about an actual outlaw. We tell his story in three minutes so the language is pretty lean. Oddly, that song is a bit hard to sing. I find myself getting choked up near the end. You can hear me barely squeak out that last line on the record. The guy is very real to me.

As far as Sonny Liston, you can’t really write that in first person because he’s an actual figure. He was such an enigmatic character. He didn’t speak much, but he has some of the greatest boxing quotes ever. That line, “I ain’t got no dog-proof ass,” is real. Sonny said that. A reporter asked him why he wasn’t down in the south helping with the civil rights movement. He said, “I ain’t got no dog-proof ass.” He was highly quotable. He also said something like, “Someday they’re going to write a blues song just for fighters. It’ll just be for a slow guitar, a soft trumpet, and a bell.” Poetry.

Did you see the documentary Pariah about him? I think I remember liking it.

No. I’ll find it. It has to be at least okay because his life was so interesting. He was such a tragic figure. He was not a good man. Bad dude. Debt collector. His career was run by the mob. I believe that he threw at least one of the Ali fights. Both were really controversial. I just don’t see the left that Ali called his anchor punch taking Liston out. He was a monster. Of course, he was really disliked and disrespected by the black community. They didn’t like him as a representative of black culture. He was disliked by whites because he was a black guy who was heavyweight champion of the world. His criminal nature just proved their racist leanings.

He was heavyweight champion for (seventeen months) starting in 1962. I thought he was incredibly intriguing. Nick Tosches book The Devil and Sonny Liston is a fantastic read. I thought the first line of the song – “His mama didn’t know when his birthday was” – really set the song up. It’s true. Reporters asked her after he died. She didn’t know what year he was born or when his birthday was. Talk about tragic.

You also wrote, ‘Nobody punched like Sonny Liston.’ The movie covers that.

Yeah. Sonny Liston definitely was in the top ten for brutal punchers. (Check out) footage from those old fights. Christ, he throws a left hook and lifts the guy right off the ground. A bunch of the papers printed a hand print of one of Sonny’s hands before one of his fights. It was like a catcher’s mitt. Enormous. He had the build for how fights were back then. They weren’t as fast and were all about punching power. There’s lots of dancing and tying up today. Writing that song was daunting because Mark Knopfler wrote a song called “A Song for Sonny Liston.” I really struggled with putting it on the record, but it’s a very different song than his. I went with it.

I’m fascinated by boxing because I can’t beat anybody up. You can, though.

(Laughs) Boxing was in my family. My father’s uncle fought under the name Tiger Tom Dixon, which is where the name of that song comes from. My uncle Fred was a boxer who turned pro. I went to his first professional fight when I was a kid. The men in that side of the family gathered around and watched all the Frazier/Foreman fights and all the Ali fights. Ken Norton. All those big names from the mid-Sixties through the mid-Seventies.

Boxing was just part of the culture of my father’s side of the family. They used to set up a fake ring made of clothes line in the back yard at my grandfather’s house. All my cousins would fight each other. You’d be ten years old with these sixteen ounce boxing gloves (laughs). You could barely life your hand, but we would be smacking away at each other. I think they would haul you in if you did that today, but it was part of the culture then.

– Brian T. Atkinson

Gretchen Peters' The Night You Wrote That Song: The Songs of Mickey Newbury swaggers (“Leavin' Kentucky”) and sways (the title track) with compelling immediacy (“Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)”). The album spotlights her primary songwriting influence. 

“I think of Mickey as the country version of Leonard Cohen,” the longtime Nashville resident says. “He has very Cohenesque verses in his songs. Those are the ones that really drew me to them for this record that I made. I think Mickey's in the top three pure genius songwriters in country music history.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how you found Mickey Newbury.

Gretchen Peters: I discovered Mickey Newbury in my late teens in the late Seventies when I was living in Boulder, Colorado. The country hippie thing was happening in the Colorado music scene with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Flying Burrito Brothers, and everything that grew up from that branch of the tree. I hadn't been exposed to that when I was a kid, but I found a guy who owned a little record shop. He figured out I was interested in learning about this. I'd go in there once a week, we'd go in the back room and he'd throw records into my hand. Newbury's records came into my possession in that process. 

Describe your first impressions.

Mickey was a link between the folk music I'd grown up with and the country music I had completely fallen head over heels for. This may sound like a cliché, but the first thing that drew me into his songs was his deep well of sadness. There was something deeply moving and sad about his songs, and I've always been very attracted to those qualities. I identified with him on a very cellular level. I'm sure I couldn't put it into words then, but I've spent time thinking about it the past couple years as I've been doing this record. I think he had this vision of himself as an artist. 

You obviously agree with the many who feel Newbury was underappreciated. 

Yeah. People who know about Mickey know how great he was, but I do feel sad that he's not really given his due in Nashville outside a small coiterie of songwriters and musicians. Honestly, they're from an older generation now. I'm sure a lot is that Mickey left Nashville (and moved to Oregon at the height of his success). Also, Mickey rejected what Nashville was about and I don't think that sat well with a lot of people. However, everybody who knows anything about country music will acknowledge what a brilliant songwriter he was. He's in the Nashville Songwriter's Hall of Fame.

Describe how this record finally took shape. 

I had been thinking about doing an album of Mickey's songs for about fifteen years. I just said, “It's now or never.” I realized concurrently that Cinderella Sound Studio, which is the studio where Mickey recorded all those great records from the late sixties and early seventies, is still a working, operating studio run by the owner Wayne Moss. Wayne played on those Mickey records and has all the Mickey Newbury stories that you want. Also, he's a renowned guitar player who played the famous guitar riff on Roy Orbison's “Pretty Woman.” I've taken people into Cinderella who I know would appreciate what went on in there, which is like a living, working museum. 

Describe how the recording experience went.

We went in blind and it was magic. The place basically hasn't changed since 1969. The studio itself is in a converted garage in Madison, Tennessee. Linda Ronstadt recorded her first album there. Steve Miller recorded there. The list of people will blow your mind. There's gear and memoribilia from all those eras. In fact, Linda Rondstadt used the bathroom as a vocal booth, which I did on this album. It was the best room to get isolation on the vocals. I'm a big believer that places – especially studios – hold magic in their walls. Once I figured out that we could do that and we cut three tracks there and that we got something really great, I thought, We gotta do this. 

Explain how you approached interpreting his songs. 

I had to feel my way around interpreting Mickey's songs. I wanted permission to play around with the song structures a little bit when I needed to, and I talked with several people who know Mickey. I knew that he fooled around with his songs all the time because I listened to all kinds of bootleg recordings. He would take lines from one song and put it into another. He would change titles. Sometimes his songs structually were strange once you got down in there and looked, partly because he would produce a song on his own records more like a pastiche. 

Must have been a challenge taking on songs by such an amazing singer.

He was such an operatic singer with an incredible voice. I had to get away from his records and sit down with my guitar and go, “Okay. If I had written this song, how would I have recorded it? How would I sing it?” I didn't lay down any parameters as far as which songs to do. They didn't have to be hits. I cut some of the later, folkier ones that he wrote. I found the songs that I identified deeply with and went with those. I have to admit that some of the more straight ahead country songs definitely were a challenge but turned out the best. My god, his singing was every bit as genius as his writing. 

– Brian T. Atkinson

Whitney Rose's We Still Go to Rodeos sails (“Just Circumstance”) and soars (the title track) with effortless elegance. We caught up with the South Austin resident to talk about the new collection, her all-star producer and watching her biggest touring year evaporate during the COVID-19 crisis. 

“It's been a little heartbreaking sitting at home and seeing all the show cancellations that come in pretty much daily,” Rose says. “Everything was normal just a few months ago. This was supposed to be my busiest year, so seeing all that go away has been a little disheartening.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the new record took shape. 

Whitney Rose: I keep a list of my songs that haven't been recorded and also went through this insane writing spurt. The team for Paul Kolderie (Radiohead, Lou Reed, Uncle Tupelo), who produced the record, serendipitously reached out around that time. He's based in upstate New York and I happened to be traveling through New York right after that. I looked into him and we agreed to do lunch. I had a bunch of very, very fresh tunes, so why not? We met and I adored him and gave him some demos that I'd made at home. He said he'd be happy to make a record with the tunes. “Okay,” I said. “Let's do it.” 

Paul has an impressive resume. 

Yeah, he has a very, very impressive resume and some really great stories, but unfortunately those aren't mine to tell. You know, there are so many horror stories about being in the studio, but I must have a horseshoe stuck up my ass. Obviously, I've had some stressful moments, but I've never had a negative studio experience. Paul was always pleasant and always had good ideas as well as being respectful of my imput. That means a lot to any artist recording the songs you've written. 

Explain how these songs fit together. 

Making records is so funny because they're so dependant on some days in the studio. Maybe you're supposed to be recording a really upbeat song, but you're not feeling it. So, you offer a different track. “Yes,” you say, “this is the one we ought to tackle.” It wasn't, “Oh, this is better than that song.” It's more that everybody in the band is feeling this one today. We record all the beds live on the floor and add other things later. Everyone's mood is so important – at least to me. I feel like that comes across.

Recording live is the way to go.

Oh god, yes. I can't imagine doing it any other way. I'm interested in learning other ways to do it, but I've never done any other way. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Just Circumstance.' 

I've spoken to my songwriter friends who travel a lot. We all watch crime television. You don't always get the food you want or see the people you want, but I'm convinced that by being on the road a lot you have one constant: HLN is always there with Forensic Files. The narrator (Peter Thomas) has become like a lullabye for me. HLN is always on a different channel, which can be a pain in the ass if you're a little tired or really tired or maybe a little stoned or really stoned. You have to flip through to find his voice and fall asleep at a reasonable hour. True crime got my into watching Orange Is the New Black. I started watching that around the time I wrote this tune. I became really interested in the criminal justice system and the experiences for imprisoned women. Some stories out there are crazy. 

Interesting that true crime lulls you to sleep.

Yeah, I'm fully aware that it's very weird, but his voice is so lulling and soothing. I'll watch a couple episodes if I'm not totally tired. Sometimes I'll just watch an episode if I'm really tired. I'll go to sleep within thirty seconds. 

So, that opens the album. Explain why you closed with the title track.

It wasn't overly intentional. The name of the title track originally was “Things We Ain't Got.” I was listening to my final masers and I heard the line “we still go to rodeos,” which punched me in the face because it could mean so many different things. Now it's weird because none of us can go to actual rodeos right now, but it stuck me as being symbolic that there's always something good. 

Also, I never like to be too precious about naming songs. I just thought it was a cool song and record title because there's a lot of heartbreak on the record. I wanted the title to show that I'm not a huge curmudgeon. Things can drag on for way too long if you get precious. It's not the last record I'll make by a long shot and I wanted to get it done so why not? 

Yeah. Hopefully, you'll get to tour the record at some point. 

Yeah (laughs). I hope so, too, but I just keep reminding myself that everyone I love is healthy and not everyone is having that experience. I would never complain about it because that would be really shitty. I lost a few gigs? It's a lot less than some people are losing. 

- Brian T. Atkinson

Mando Saenz crafts narratives with equal measures heart (“Cautionary Tale”) and home (“All My Shame”). The top Nashville songwriter – whose songs have been recorded by Miranda Lambert, Lee Ann Womack, Stoney LaRue and many more will showcase each on his as-yet-untitled forthcoming album tentatively due by year's end. 

We caught up with Saenz last week to talk about how the new collection took shape. “My management at the time with the backing of my publisher Frank Liddell booked some time with producer Ken Coomer to make a five-song EP,” the longtime Nashville resident says. “Basically we were just wanting to get some new content out there since it had been awhile since my last record."

So, you've extended your EP into a full length. 

Yeah. After tracking those songs I was pleased with the direction and the treatment. We were taking creative risks, which seemed to work well with the songs I had been writing. I thought it would be good to go ahead and track another batch and make it a full-length project while we were in a good place

Were these all new songs or ones you have been working on?

A bit of both. They were new in the sense that they were written after my last record, but some had been around for awhile. I had to go through everything I’d written since my Studebaker record, most of which were work tapes in my voice memos. There had to be at least 60 songs, so yeah some of them went back awhile.

Tell the story behind writing 'Cautionary Tale.' 

I wrote “Cautionary Tale” with Zach Dubios. We started fresh with this one, playing a progression that led itself to some cool melodic vocals and random lyrics. The title “Cautionary Tale” was spat out. Apparently that title has been used before, but I don’t care. We kept writing lines supporting the title in circles. We changed the cadence in chorus while not leaving the circle. The lyrics are abstract but simple and right there in front of you. “Fool me once, shame on you. Do it again, what’s a fool to do?”

Describe the albums common lyrical theme.

This record has a lot more co-writes than any of my others. Mainly because I had been co-writing so much for my publisher.  I think we picked these songs, however, because they had a lot of my point of view in them lyrically. As far a common theme, I would say your typical glimpse into the inner landscape dealing with love, fear, weakness & strengths. Which I guess I’ve always kind of written about. But at the end of the day it’s all over the place. Which I honestly don’t mind. Too much of the same thing might lose interest.

Tell the story behind writing 'All My Shame.'

I wrote this with Chris Coleman. He showed up with a kick drum, so that helped set the groove. I’d known Chris for a bit but had never played music with him. We just started jamming and let the kick lead the way, which makes sense now when I hear it. I started mumbling unwritten lyrics, which I like to do. “All My Shame” must’ve came out in what we thought might be the chorus. Then we started talking about how the title related to us in the sense of writing and performing and putting yourself out there naked in a sense. It’s empowering as much as it is frightening at times. This song celebrates the empowering side of it. I always think of strippers when I play it for some reason. 

Explain how these songs show your evolution as a songwriter.

I think lyrically these songs may be a bit cleaner than my older stuff. They're less vague. However, it could be argued that there’s a certain charm to not being too literal. I think co-writing lends itself to cleaner lyrics because it has to make sense to everyone in the room. These songs are still pretty open to interpretation though. I’ll always cling to that quality I think. I did take some musical liberties with some of these tunes. They're ideas a bit left of what I’ve done before.

Explain how the pandemic situation has affected your songwriting.

I’ve been writing a lot more on my own, which has been nice. Along with the occasional writing session on Zoom and a weekly live stream, I’ve kept fairly busy. I've been getting back to writing mostly on my own has been the biggest change though. It really hasn’t been much different for me. Writing has always been a form of escape. I tend not to think about everything going on when writing lately. In fact, it takes me away from it all.

Talk about your tour plans when you can get back out on the road.

I plan on touring heavy in the states as soon as possible. Pre-release and beyond. I’ve gotten a lot of interesting from the UK as well to play there when it’s safe, so that is definitely on the horizon a few months after my release.

- Brian T. Atkinson

Kinky Friedman's appropriately titled Resurrection marks his eighth release since millennium's turn. The legendary raconteur's late-career resurgence – including the studio albums The Loneliest Man I Ever Met (2015) and Circus of Life (2018) follows a relative dry spell as a songwriter from the eighties through the nineties. Following is an excerpt from Friedman's chapter in Brian T. Atkinson's recent book The Messenger: The Songwriting Legacy of Ray Wylie Hubbard (Texas A&M University Press).

Kinky Friedman: Ray Wylie Hubbard and I are about the only two musicians from Texas with an inherent sense of humor. I remember finding Ray very funny onstage and off. That was a rarity. Others have a sense of humor but don't reveal it. You don't know that Willie is a really funny guy if you just watch the show, but he could do a pretty good standup act. Ray Wylie and I are so funny that it's really a curse. I think it would have been a more financial pleasure for both of us if we had been serious, pompous-ass motherfuckers to start with. Although now, I'm passing into what could be a real hot air for the Kinkster. Happens every ten years. I get hot. Ray and I did a lot of shit together, but the problem is that I've forgotten the first half of my life. I'm seventy-three now. People get confused. I never recorded “Redneck Mother.” They see me doing “They Ain't Making Jews Like Jesus Anymore,” and they think they saw Kinky doing “Redneck Mother.” That's always been true of the public. You do The Tonight Show, and they think they saw you on something else. The public and the media never quite get it right. They think the wrong person did that song. The only ones who ever get it right are Ray and Kinky, and sometimes I'm not so sure about Ray. That was pretty good. The last thing I said right there is the first thing that's made sense.

“Redneck Mother” was a watershed song, one that pushed the spiritual envelope a little and really rung true. It's also fun and funny. “Redneck Mother” was calculated just enough to not succeed as much as “Muskrat [Candlelight]” by Willis Alan Ramsey. It's not gonna be a mainstream commercial success, but it does avoid nostalgia. It's been a long time and the song still holds up. I don't wish I would have written it, though. I think there's only one song I wish I'd written, and I can't remember the title of it. If you find it, let me know. It wouldn't probably be a Ray song. You can tell Ray has a mixed audience of people, a mixed race audience. He appeals to Jewish homosexuals as well as African-Americans. He appeals to a lot of young people, which is good to see.

Ray and I weren't competitive. He was funny a lot of the time, and I think that'll always cost you. If you're gonna come on as Weird Al Yankovich, that's the way to go. Everything you do should be weird and funny. You should understand that you're never gonna be accepted as a serious writer. As Billy Joe Shaver would say, Ray Wylie and I are both serious souls who nobody takes seriously. There are some who do take us seriously, but they're probably living at the Shalom Retirement Village right now or the Bandera Home for the Bewildered. Are you getting all this? It's pure genius. What I'm saying is incredible. I didn't realize I was this spiritual. Like all good songwriters, you've gotta be miserable to write a good satirical song like “Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother.” If you're happy, you can forget about it. I suggest that anyone who wants to write, whether it's satirical or not, should first make sure they're miserable. It isn't hard. I think Flaubert's recipe for happiness is that you have to have three things: You have to be stupid, selfish and have good health. If stupidity is lacking, all is lost. You need those three elements. I think Lauren Bacall stated it differently. She said the key to happiness is good health and a bad memory. That's pretty wise. Writing satirical stuff is really pointless.

Ray going from country to blues is a real strange thing to do. That's akin to Bob Dylan [going electric] at Newport [in 1965]. I'd forgotten how much Bob Dylan was booed the first time he went on tour with The Band [then known as The Hawks in 1966]. They were booed at every show and Levon [Helm] was complaining, “What is the point of this shit if they end up booing us at every single show?” Then he did another tour with The Band years later [in 1974] and it was an amazing success. People were holding up their cigarette lighters. Fuck 'em and feed 'em Fruit Loops. You can't worry about that. Ray's definitely a serious soul and it looks like he's transitioned smoothly to blues. I find the blues stultifyingly dull myself. There are people who are not fucking bored by it like Bob Dylan. He loves the blues, but I wouldn't go to a blues show. Well, I might go, but I might blow my fucking head off.  

Terry Allen and the Panhandle Mystery Band's Just like Moby Dick delivers trademark wit (“Houdini Didn't Like the Spiritualists”) and wisdom (“Abandonitis”) fueled by vibrant narratives (“Sailin' on Through”). We recently spoke legendary songwriter about his first new collection in seven years. 

“I've never felt an obligation to put out a record every two years,” says Allen, an accomplished visual artist whose sculpture containng late songwriter Guy Clark's ashes soon will be housed at Texas State University's Wittliff Collections. “I've always thought that was some record label promo bullshit.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how the album took shape.

Terry Allen: The songs (are about) a desperation and the different stories that people go through from just being alive. I got stuck trying to figure out the record's sequence until we recorded “Sailin' On Through” and I say, “Just like Moby Dick” at the end. That phrase clicked and clarified how the record ought to feel. I try to make a record be one work because I've always had a hard time thinking of a record as just a bunch of songs. 

Sequencing is a lost art. 

Yeah. I think it's a digital thing. That's what I loved about (Allen's record label) Paradise of Bachelors. They were all about putting this out on vinyl when they first approached me. I miss the idea of being able to plot a record with Side A and Side B and making the work progress. I think that got lost when CDs came along even though you still had a sequence to work with. Digital blew that all to hell. I think that's why there's been a resurgence in vinyl. People miss the density of a group of songs. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Abandonitis.' 

Well, you get sick of songs that are just about self-pity. “Abandonitis” is about the fact that everybody goes through bullshit. Might as well get used to it. Deal and move on. 

Describe working with Shannon McNally. 

This might be the most collaborative record I've ever done. Shannon was great. A bunch of musicians and writers had the opportunity to sit down and write as a group. We pitched each other ideas. Some songs like “All These Blues Go Walkin'” came out of that. I've never really collaborated like that before except maybe in some theater pieces. Shannon is a great singer, very smart, a great writer. 

Will you collaborate again?

Well, we just had another session with (the album's producer and longtime Bob Dylan guitarist) Charlie (Sexton) in Marfa and wrote a bunch of songs. Shannon, (Allen's son) Bukka and I wrote a song about Dr. John. She was really close with Dr. John. So, that's something we have on the backburner. I know she wants to go down to New Orleans to record it. Collaborating been a real special surprise to me.

You've known Charlie some time. 

Yeah, I've known Charlie since he was a little kid. I've done things with his brother Will, but I've always wanted to do something with him, too. We did a show at the Paramount Theater in Austin and played all these new songs in 2019. I really needed to do something new. I've been wallowing in the past doing so many reissues and exhibitions of older art work lately. Texas Tech took all our archives. It just fell in line for us all to work together on the record. 

Speaking of archives, your Guy Clark sculpture will be going to the Wittliff. 

Yeah, it is. We're planning something around South by Southwest when we'll be playing (Willie Nelson's) Luck Festival. There will be some kind of commemoration. I wanted to get the sculpture to Texas and that was the best way. I had talked to (archive founder) Bill Wittliff extensively about the piece, but I didn't know if it would be in limbo after he passed. Bill had already prepped them for it, though. They're excited about getting it and I'm excited they'll be getting it. 

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers' Years fortifies equal measures country (“Good As Gold”) and rock (“New Ways to Fail”) with razor sharp songwriting (the title track). We recently talked with Shook about the new collection, her creative process and growing as a songwriter.
“I've never really written a song with the intention of having it fit a record,” the North Carolina native says. “The song we as a band think are the most cohesive are the ones that go on the record. Some songs on Years were a few years older but a handful are newer.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Tell the story behind writing the title track. 

Sarah Shook: I wrote “Years” about two weeks before we went into the studio. I was uneasy and felt like the album was missing something. “Years” was a culmination of the themes and ideas presented earlier in the record and the song tied up things nicely at the end. I think “Years” is the most self-aware track on the record. 

Describe the album's common lyrical theme.

There's drinking, murky introspection and relationship conflicts. Writing songs from your own perspective is easy, but I tried to tell the story from the both points of view in the song “Good As Gold.” I put myself in the other person's shoes and had empathy for their perspective. I was trying to understand where things are in this relationship and how and why they got to where they were.

 
Writing from another perspective probably develops more empathy for people in general.

Absolutely. Writing from another perspective shouldn't be confined to only romantic relationships. (We) should have the ability to see things from someone else's perspective even if you don't agree with them. Then you can empathize and understand why people do what they do, but it's still important to hae boundaries. You shouldn't allow things just because you understand them more. The healthy thing is remove yourself from the situation if the other person isn't respecting those boundaries. 

Describe your songwriting process. 

Lyrics, melody and chord progressions usually come at the same time. I'll write a loose arrangement and bring the song to the band. Then we collaborate with the arrangement we feel fits the song best. Our bassist Aaron (Oliva) might have an idea for an intro part. (Lap steel guitarist) Phil (Sullivan) and (lead guitarist) Eric (Peterson) might come up with where they want the solos. Everyone contributes to the final arrangement, which is a special finishing touch we have as a band. 

Describe how 'New Ways to Fail' took shape.

I was in a failing relationship and was literally so depressed I couldn't get out of bed. I was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, as my dad used to say, when I wrote that song. I was aware I was coming to the end of my tether, but I also felt pretty trapped. There's always that fear of the unknown and anxiety with anyone ending a relationship. 

You must be working on a new record.

Yeah. Definitely. We've had a few rehearsals, but then we're back on the road. It's been a rollercoster. There really hasn't been time to sit down and rehearse. So, we decided to take this December, January and February off. We just have a couple shows each month. We'll spend the next three months at home and have a pretty rigorous schedule to get songs ready for the next record. I'm really excited about that.

Chris Knight's new Almost Daylight delivers trademark grit (“I'm William Callahan”) and groove (the title track). Knight's soaring melodies have skyrocketed him up the Alt-Country Specialty Chart into November. “That's great,” Knight says. “People hear songs (on the radio) and go, 'I like that song. Who's this guy?' Then they look me up and maybe come to a show or download some music.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the album came together.

Chris Knight: Some songs had been around. Some were fairly new within the last couple years. Others were songs I forgot about and then found again and rewrote. They were songs I liked but something kept me from recording them. So, I fixed them. 

Explain how you know when they're ready.

I know when I don't doubt myself because I don't like a few lines or a melody. You know when they're good enough. Some songs take hours, some take months, others take years. These songs were already in my catalog with my publishers. I listened to a CD that was with a publisher and found the songs. 

Tell the story behind writing 'I'm William Callahan.'

I wrote that a long time ago with my friend Tim Krekel. I liked the song and lyrics, but the melody and a few lines weren't right. I thought I could do something with it and completely changed the melody. I changed it to where I really wanted to record it, which is why it ended up the first track on the record.

Explain how essential personal experience is to your writing. 

Well, nothing is spot-on biographical, but there are chards of truth about my family, me, people that I've known. You could hear a story that happened two thousand miles away and find something to write about. Take “Down the River” (from Knight's 2001 album A Pretty Good Day). We fish the Green River. My brother and another guy down there are always at odds with each other. You just turn it into a song. I'm not gonna write a song like “Seminole Bingo” by Warren Zevon. I don't know shit about stock markets and drugs other than drugs are bad. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Send It on Down.'

I've sat in the bleachers on a football field on a Sunday morning and probably had a quart of Stroh's beer. It's not that uncommon if you grew up where I did. The girls I like are rich, but there's no way they're gonna have anything to do with me. Everybody's experienced stuff like that. I grew up in the woods but went to town on a Saturday night. My daddy didn't own a hardware store and didn't drink, but that's something we thought up to write about. 

Describe working with Lee Ann Womack on that song. 

Great. She came in ready to go. She came in to sing with me and had a great part ready. It was surprising. I thought she was gonna put a little harmony on but she did almost a duet. I love it. 

You've known her a while.

Yeah, I've known her for more than twenty years. We were both on Decca Records and she married Frank Liddell, who got me signed to my first publishing and record deals. I really appreciated her coming down to sing that. We cut that at Ray Kennedy's studio Room and Board. Lee Ann came over one day when Ray and I were doing overdubs. I'm glad I was able to be there when she came in.

John Prine also appears on the record ('Mexican Home'). 

I've always been a huge John Prine fan. I did a couple shows with him in the northeast years ago. Ray and John are real good friends. I wasn't planning to cut “Mexican Home,” but I thought I'd put one more song on there right at the end. I started playing it and the band fell in. We cut it pretty much in one take. John's a great guy. Listen to his records. He's just like you think he is.

John Schneider effortlessly balances sacred (Recycling Grace) and secular (Redneck Rebel) with a sideways grin. We spoke with the Dukes of Hazard star about the new collection (both released last fall), his new Dukes-themed new movie and singing at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville.
“I love leaning up against the same brick wall where Bob Willis, Johnny Cash, Little Jimmy Dickens and Willie Nelson – with short hair – leaned at the Ryman,” Schneider says. “Lives have been changed in that room for decades and still are being changed. That place is truly hallowed ground.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how Redneck Rebel took shape. 

Kid Rock came to my birthday party. I got up onstage with him and got in touch with my inner wild child. The first song we did was “Duck Blind.” Then we did “Long Way from Lonely” and “Nothing to Do with Love.” It got infectious. (Schneider's wife) Alicia (Allain) and I looked at each other and said, “The crowd is having so much fun. We need to do these.” I also had heard the song “Stoned on the One” by Andrew Pope, which is a hell of a hard song to sing. I didn't know whether I could do it, but we decided to go for it and did the vocal in one pass. That's my favorite thing I've ever done. 

Describe the album's common thread. 

Fearlessness. I'm enjoying it. People really seem to love “Stoned on the One,” which is such an old school Waylon Jennings-type song. My band Stars 'N' Bars are all over forty and grew up on Southern rock with twin guitar harmonies. They tear it up onstage and inspire me to really go for it especially on songs like “Southern Rock Survivor” and “Backwoods Soul.” I get stronger but also raspier the more shows we do. I'm more proud of how the album sounds, but I honestly believe we're better live. 

Explain exactly how you live fearlessly. 

Whiskey (laughs). Actually, I do gargle with bourbon and (drink) it when I sing. I put a little lemon and honey in the whiskey and it seems I get less and less fearful the more I gargle. The magic for your voice is eating the lemon rind, which is pretty darn good after sitting in the whiskey and honey. 

Describe how Johnny Cash guided you toward the new gospel album. 

Johnny and I did (the made-for-television Western) Stagecoach together in 1986. Then I lived at their house for a year and change while I was touring in 1987. I said, “John, people are asking me to do a gospel record.” “Well,” he said, “you should. You will.” “When?” “Don't worry,” he said. “You'll know when it's time to do it. You won't be able to not to.” Alicia and I were at a friend's funeral three decades later and one of the Blind Boys of Alabama sang what's been a favorite rendition of “Amazing Grace” for both of us, which is that song done to “House of the Rising Sun.”
B.J. Thomas was also at the funeral. “By the way,” he said as we were walking out, “you really need to do a gospel album.” That was the straw that broke the camel's back – in a good way. Johnny was right. I looked up in the sky and said, “You were right. We gotta do this now.” People started sending us great material like “Recycling Grace” as soon as they found out we were doing a gospel record. It took thirty years, but it was easy once we started. I'm singing higher and stronger than ever with absolutely no fear on songs like “House of Amazing Grace.” You just go for it when you sing a song to god and it's praise and hope it's a joyful noise (laughs).

You close the album with a real standard “I'll Fly Away”).

Oh, isn't that great? We all went for it and had such a great time. The band was all in the room at the same time when we did “House of Amazing Grace” and “I'll Fly Away.,” which was like having church while we recorded at Sound Kitchen in Cool Springs, Tennessee. Everybody came to worship. We're getting wonderful responses that it's people's new favorite worship album. We had somebody say that it reminded them of (the gospel choir) God's Property because it has that big vibe in songs like “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down.” 

Meanwhile, you have the new Christmas movie inspired by Dukes of Hazard. 

Yeah, I was writing a book called My Life, My Way. Alecia said, “You know, it's the fortieth anniversary of Dukes of Hazard. Why don't you incorporate all this stuff into a Dukes-themed script for Christmas?” I stopped writing the book when the title Christmas Cars for the movie came to me. There couldn't possibly be a better title for Dukes fans. I play Uncle Denver in honor of Denver Pyle, who was Uncle Jesse on Dukes, and we put songs like “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down” and “House of Amazing Grace” in it The great thing about a movie: You can put in any music you want. Why not put your own in there?

The Mavericks' vibrant Play the Hits interprets classics from country (John Andserson's “Swingin'”) to rock (Bruce Springsteen's “Hungry Heart”) and back again (Waylon Jennings' “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?”). We spoke to guitarist Eddie Perez about the record and what's next for the band.
“We've been working hard on a documentary film that tells the history of the band for the last year and a half,” Perez says. “We also might release an all-Spanish record this year, which would be the first Mavericks record in Spanish. Plus, we're getting ready to go on XM radio's Outlaw Country cruise.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how the new album came together. 

Eddie Perez: These songs have been influential in different degrees. They had to have a resonance with our front man Raul (Malo). We've been playing them on the road and fans have said, “Hey, we'd love to hear a recorded version of that song.” We started going into the studio last year when we were off the road and experimenting with some covers then that snowballed into this record once we got the energy going. We were thinking about the songs that pertain to the energy and spirit of the Mavericks.

Describe the song selection process.

We have many other covers that find their way onto a Mavericks set list from time to time, but these are the ones we felt most connected to and related most to Raul. The singer is putting that energy across, so the lyric and melody have to have a resonance with him. Raul guided this process. We figured a covers record would be a good thing.

Explain what drew you to 'Swingin'.”.

That was such a massive song for John Anderson back in the day and it resonated with the band. Country music still had a certain sound and connection when the band was formed in 1989. “Swingin'” was always around back then. We'd performed it a time or two and had put our Maverick sound on it before we knew it. What a fun song to do. People dig it live. It was a big influence on us.

Describe how you approach the arrangements. 

Well, the songs are all great in their own rights. People will say, “Why cover that song?” Raul stepped back a little – much to his credit – and allowed a band that plays a hundred-plus shows a year the time to get in the studio and experiment. He had great arrangement ideas, but it really is a collective effort. He allows the energy for individuality and we benefit from playing together so much. 

Did you find it challenging or freeing to interpret covers?

It can be all kinds of things. I think our close proximity and comaraderie helps. There's not a lot of spoken dialogue about what we're doing. It's just the energy we have like we all speak the same language and we're all drawing on the same musical ideas and principles. There's a certain taste factor for what we do. There's a reason for all of it. It comes down to the sum of the parts for me.

 
That certainly applies to your cover of 'Hungry Heart.' 

Thanks. Yeah, we're all big Springsteen fans, which goes back to the mid-seventies when I was first turned on to music. My father was a big music fan and he was into Bruce. We all have the same reverence for The Boss. We've recorded Springsteen songs in the past, but Raul just felt a connection with this one. He felt like he had a great twist on the melody and style. I feel like we did something in our unique Mavericks way. 

I met Steve Earle at Guy Clark's house in Nashville. He was about eighteen years old and talking a mile a minute all the time. Steve clearly was a natural songwriter. His heroes were Guy and Townes, so he had a good basis for storytelling and the Texas songwriter tradition. I'd run into him in bars and talk about this and that. I think Steve liked the danger of Townes and clearly revered Guy. Everything revolved around Bishop's Pub for me. Guy lived near there and would come by now and again. 

Guy might come in if Townes was around, but I don't remember Steve actually playing there. It seemed Steve was bouncing back and forth between Texas and Nashville. The Exit/Inn was going on and you'd run into those guys there. I remember talking with Steve at this place called Jock's and he was just going ninety miles an hour about something. I was worn out from doing whatever I was doing and I just said, “Steve, stop. Take a breath. Count to ten.” He was young and full of life. 

I hadn't seen him in a couple years. I said, “Hey, Steve, how you doing?” I was thinking he'd do the time honored response: “Fine and you?” Except “How you doing?” to Steve is like the first line in a Russian novel. Two hours later, I'm still standing there listening to how he's doing. That's just how he is. At any point, you can say, “Hey, Give it a drink, Steve.” I saw him the other night on TV in the movie Leaves of Grass. I was thinking, He's really good. It took me a while and I think it took other people a while to realize Steve wasn't just blowing smoke when he was talking. There's a whole lot going on there. I think once he did Guitar Town that became clear to a lot of people. I remember hearing him do “Tom Ames' Prayer,” a very tight narrative story. I guess you would call it a dramatic monologue. It's very well done. I think he was nineteen when he wrote it. 

It's a huge honor that he would perform my song “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.” I think in that time period – from the late seventies to early eighties – there were people writing song who were really struggling to get the right lyric. It doesn't mean that they were really stilted, they just worked really hard at things and the way you felt they ought to be said. It seems like songwriting today is just a lot of things blurted out. Sometimes that can work but back then Guy and Townes and John Hiatt, the goal is to write a song with natural sounding poignancy. I think people worked on that aspect. I think that's what Steve was talking about with “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.” I appreciate that another writer like Steve appreciates my lyrics.  

Lucero’s When You Found Me Soars High

Lucero’s When You Found Me pulls (“Have You Lost Your Way?”) and punches (“Outrun the Moon”) with incendiary highway fury. We recently spoke with lead singer Ben Nichols about the ways similarly seeking literature informs his writing. 

“I will lift lines directly out of literature sometimes and put them in my songs,” the Memphis-based singer-songwriter says. “In fact, I had many songs inspired by Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. So many good lines made great lyrics.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: You turned those into an entire solo album. 

Ben Nichols: Yeah, I ended up writing the entire Last Pale Light in the West album about that book. I went through and found my favorite lines and scenes and put them in the songs. The phrase “last pale light in the west” is after the main action in the book when the main character called the kid is walking out on the plains. He looks over and sees the sun going down. I thought “last pale light in the west” was beautiful. 

Explain what other characters in Blood Meridian stood out. 

There was one story that was about a character who was in there for two pages out of this six hundred page book. His whole life story is told in one paragraph, which was amazing. I added to it and that became “Chambers,” which is about a guy who fought in the Mexican war and ended up with a group of scalp hunters who were the main subject in Blood Meridian. He story takes place out side of theirs, but it inspired me. The way McCarthy writes in general is very inspiring.

Describe his greatest strength as a writer. 

McCarthy is just on another level. Blood Meridian takes place in the 1840s and 1850s, and the language he uses seems like it could have existed for all eternity. It seems like a novel that has always existed. McCarthy uses some pretty big, archaic words. I think he sometimes uses words that aren’t even in the English language. They’re definitely not in the Oxford English dictionary, but you don’t really need to know the specific meanings the way he uses them. 

Explain what drew you to the story in general. 

Blood Meridian gives a western a historical seriousness, significance, and biblical weight. You wrap that up with a spaghetti western feel? Oh yeah. That’s hard for me to resist. McCarthy has become a bar to shoot for in my own writing even though I know I’ll never attain that level in the same way I want to write rock and roll songs like Bruce Springsteen, heartbreak songs like Willie Nelson, and dark songs like Townes Van Zandt. 

Describe your ultimate goal as a songwriter.

I strive for a universal quality as a songwriter. I like songs that could have been written in any era no matter the music and lyrics that exists on their own without the music. Song lyrics are poems. You put a certain chord progression underneath them and give them a vocal melody that these three simple words become life changing. Melodies speak directly to our emotions. 

– Brian T. Atkinson

Gretchen Peters' The Night You Wrote That Song: The Songs of Mickey Newbury swaggers (“Leavin' Kentucky”) and sways (the title track) with compelling immediacy (“Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)”). The album spotlights her primary songwriting influence. 

“I think of Mickey as the country version of Leonard Cohen,” the longtime Nashville resident says. “He has very Cohenesque verses in his songs. Those are the ones that really drew me to them for this record that I made. I think Mickey's in the top three pure genius songwriters in country music history.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how you found Mickey Newbury.

Gretchen Peters: I discovered Mickey Newbury in my late teens in the late Seventies when I was living in Boulder, Colorado. The country hippie thing was happening in the Colorado music scene with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Flying Burrito Brothers, and everything that grew up from that branch of the tree. I hadn't been exposed to that when I was a kid, but I found a guy who owned a little record shop. He figured out I was interested in learning about this. I'd go in there once a week, we'd go in the back room and he'd throw records into my hand. Newbury's records came into my possession in that process. 

Describe your first impressions.

Mickey was a link between the folk music I'd grown up with and the country music I had completely fallen head over heels for. This may sound like a cliché, but the first thing that drew me into his songs was his deep well of sadness. There was something deeply moving and sad about his songs, and I've always been very attracted to those qualities. I identified with him on a very cellular level. I'm sure I couldn't put it into words then, but I've spent time thinking about it the past couple years as I've been doing this record. I think he had this vision of himself as an artist. 

You obviously agree with the many who feel Newbury was underappreciated. 

Yeah. People who know about Mickey know how great he was, but I do feel sad that he's not really given his due in Nashville outside a small coiterie of songwriters and musicians. Honestly, they're from an older generation now. I'm sure a lot is that Mickey left Nashville (and moved to Oregon at the height of his success). Also, Mickey rejected what Nashville was about and I don't think that sat well with a lot of people. However, everybody who knows anything about country music will acknowledge what a brilliant songwriter he was. He's in the Nashville Songwriter's Hall of Fame.

Describe how this record finally took shape. 

I had been thinking about doing an album of Mickey's songs for about fifteen years. I just said, “It's now or never.” I realized concurrently that Cinderella Sound Studio, which is the studio where Mickey recorded all those great records from the late sixties and early seventies, is still a working, operating studio run by the owner Wayne Moss. Wayne played on those Mickey records and has all the Mickey Newbury stories that you want. Also, he's a renowned guitar player who played the famous guitar riff on Roy Orbison's “Pretty Woman.” I've taken people into Cinderella who I know would appreciate what went on in there, which is like a living, working museum. 

Describe how the recording experience went.

We went in blind and it was magic. The place basically hasn't changed since 1969. The studio itself is in a converted garage in Madison, Tennessee. Linda Ronstadt recorded her first album there. Steve Miller recorded there. The list of people will blow your mind. There's gear and memoribilia from all those eras. In fact, Linda Rondstadt used the bathroom as a vocal booth, which I did on this album. It was the best room to get isolation on the vocals. I'm a big believer that places – especially studios – hold magic in their walls. Once I figured out that we could do that and we cut three tracks there and that we got something really great, I thought, We gotta do this. 

Explain how you approached interpreting his songs. 

I had to feel my way around interpreting Mickey's songs. I wanted permission to play around with the song structures a little bit when I needed to, and I talked with several people who know Mickey. I knew that he fooled around with his songs all the time because I listened to all kinds of bootleg recordings. He would take lines from one song and put it into another. He would change titles. Sometimes his songs structually were strange once you got down in there and looked, partly because he would produce a song on his own records more like a pastiche. 

Must have been a challenge taking on songs by such an amazing singer.

He was such an operatic singer with an incredible voice. I had to get away from his records and sit down with my guitar and go, “Okay. If I had written this song, how would I have recorded it? How would I sing it?” I didn't lay down any parameters as far as which songs to do. They didn't have to be hits. I cut some of the later, folkier ones that he wrote. I found the songs that I identified deeply with and went with those. I have to admit that some of the more straight ahead country songs definitely were a challenge but turned out the best. My god, his singing was every bit as genius as his writing. 

– Brian T. Atkinson

Whitney Rose's We Still Go to Rodeos sails (“Just Circumstance”) and soars (the title track) with effortless elegance. We caught up with the South Austin resident to talk about the new collection, her all-star producer and watching her biggest touring year evaporate during the COVID-19 crisis. 

“It's been a little heartbreaking sitting at home and seeing all the show cancellations that come in pretty much daily,” Rose says. “Everything was normal just a few months ago. This was supposed to be my busiest year, so seeing all that go away has been a little disheartening.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the new record took shape. 

Whitney Rose: I keep a list of my songs that haven't been recorded and also went through this insane writing spurt. The team for Paul Kolderie (Radiohead, Lou Reed, Uncle Tupelo), who produced the record, serendipitously reached out around that time. He's based in upstate New York and I happened to be traveling through New York right after that. I looked into him and we agreed to do lunch. I had a bunch of very, very fresh tunes, so why not? We met and I adored him and gave him some demos that I'd made at home. He said he'd be happy to make a record with the tunes. “Okay,” I said. “Let's do it.” 

Paul has an impressive resume. 

Yeah, he has a very, very impressive resume and some really great stories, but unfortunately those aren't mine to tell. You know, there are so many horror stories about being in the studio, but I must have a horseshoe stuck up my ass. Obviously, I've had some stressful moments, but I've never had a negative studio experience. Paul was always pleasant and always had good ideas as well as being respectful of my imput. That means a lot to any artist recording the songs you've written. 

Explain how these songs fit together. 

Making records is so funny because they're so dependant on some days in the studio. Maybe you're supposed to be recording a really upbeat song, but you're not feeling it. So, you offer a different track. “Yes,” you say, “this is the one we ought to tackle.” It wasn't, “Oh, this is better than that song.” It's more that everybody in the band is feeling this one today. We record all the beds live on the floor and add other things later. Everyone's mood is so important – at least to me. I feel like that comes across.

Recording live is the way to go.

Oh god, yes. I can't imagine doing it any other way. I'm interested in learning other ways to do it, but I've never done any other way. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Just Circumstance.' 

I've spoken to my songwriter friends who travel a lot. We all watch crime television. You don't always get the food you want or see the people you want, but I'm convinced that by being on the road a lot you have one constant: HLN is always there with Forensic Files. The narrator (Peter Thomas) has become like a lullabye for me. HLN is always on a different channel, which can be a pain in the ass if you're a little tired or really tired or maybe a little stoned or really stoned. You have to flip through to find his voice and fall asleep at a reasonable hour. True crime got my into watching Orange Is the New Black. I started watching that around the time I wrote this tune. I became really interested in the criminal justice system and the experiences for imprisoned women. Some stories out there are crazy. 

Interesting that true crime lulls you to sleep.

Yeah, I'm fully aware that it's very weird, but his voice is so lulling and soothing. I'll watch a couple episodes if I'm not totally tired. Sometimes I'll just watch an episode if I'm really tired. I'll go to sleep within thirty seconds. 

So, that opens the album. Explain why you closed with the title track.

It wasn't overly intentional. The name of the title track originally was “Things We Ain't Got.” I was listening to my final masers and I heard the line “we still go to rodeos,” which punched me in the face because it could mean so many different things. Now it's weird because none of us can go to actual rodeos right now, but it stuck me as being symbolic that there's always something good. 

Also, I never like to be too precious about naming songs. I just thought it was a cool song and record title because there's a lot of heartbreak on the record. I wanted the title to show that I'm not a huge curmudgeon. Things can drag on for way too long if you get precious. It's not the last record I'll make by a long shot and I wanted to get it done so why not? 

Yeah. Hopefully, you'll get to tour the record at some point. 

Yeah (laughs). I hope so, too, but I just keep reminding myself that everyone I love is healthy and not everyone is having that experience. I would never complain about it because that would be really shitty. I lost a few gigs? It's a lot less than some people are losing. 

- Brian T. Atkinson

Mando Saenz crafts narratives with equal measures heart (“Cautionary Tale”) and home (“All My Shame”). The top Nashville songwriter – whose songs have been recorded by Miranda Lambert, Lee Ann Womack, Stoney LaRue and many more will showcase each on his as-yet-untitled forthcoming album tentatively due by year's end. 

We caught up with Saenz last week to talk about how the new collection took shape. “My management at the time with the backing of my publisher Frank Liddell booked some time with producer Ken Coomer to make a five-song EP,” the longtime Nashville resident says. “Basically we were just wanting to get some new content out there since it had been awhile since my last record."

So, you've extended your EP into a full length. 

Yeah. After tracking those songs I was pleased with the direction and the treatment. We were taking creative risks, which seemed to work well with the songs I had been writing. I thought it would be good to go ahead and track another batch and make it a full-length project while we were in a good place

Were these all new songs or ones you have been working on?

A bit of both. They were new in the sense that they were written after my last record, but some had been around for awhile. I had to go through everything I’d written since my Studebaker record, most of which were work tapes in my voice memos. There had to be at least 60 songs, so yeah some of them went back awhile.

Tell the story behind writing 'Cautionary Tale.' 

I wrote “Cautionary Tale” with Zach Dubios. We started fresh with this one, playing a progression that led itself to some cool melodic vocals and random lyrics. The title “Cautionary Tale” was spat out. Apparently that title has been used before, but I don’t care. We kept writing lines supporting the title in circles. We changed the cadence in chorus while not leaving the circle. The lyrics are abstract but simple and right there in front of you. “Fool me once, shame on you. Do it again, what’s a fool to do?”

Describe the albums common lyrical theme.

This record has a lot more co-writes than any of my others. Mainly because I had been co-writing so much for my publisher.  I think we picked these songs, however, because they had a lot of my point of view in them lyrically. As far a common theme, I would say your typical glimpse into the inner landscape dealing with love, fear, weakness & strengths. Which I guess I’ve always kind of written about. But at the end of the day it’s all over the place. Which I honestly don’t mind. Too much of the same thing might lose interest.

Tell the story behind writing 'All My Shame.'

I wrote this with Chris Coleman. He showed up with a kick drum, so that helped set the groove. I’d known Chris for a bit but had never played music with him. We just started jamming and let the kick lead the way, which makes sense now when I hear it. I started mumbling unwritten lyrics, which I like to do. “All My Shame” must’ve came out in what we thought might be the chorus. Then we started talking about how the title related to us in the sense of writing and performing and putting yourself out there naked in a sense. It’s empowering as much as it is frightening at times. This song celebrates the empowering side of it. I always think of strippers when I play it for some reason. 

Explain how these songs show your evolution as a songwriter.

I think lyrically these songs may be a bit cleaner than my older stuff. They're less vague. However, it could be argued that there’s a certain charm to not being too literal. I think co-writing lends itself to cleaner lyrics because it has to make sense to everyone in the room. These songs are still pretty open to interpretation though. I’ll always cling to that quality I think. I did take some musical liberties with some of these tunes. They're ideas a bit left of what I’ve done before.

Explain how the pandemic situation has affected your songwriting.

I’ve been writing a lot more on my own, which has been nice. Along with the occasional writing session on Zoom and a weekly live stream, I’ve kept fairly busy. I've been getting back to writing mostly on my own has been the biggest change though. It really hasn’t been much different for me. Writing has always been a form of escape. I tend not to think about everything going on when writing lately. In fact, it takes me away from it all.

Talk about your tour plans when you can get back out on the road.

I plan on touring heavy in the states as soon as possible. Pre-release and beyond. I’ve gotten a lot of interesting from the UK as well to play there when it’s safe, so that is definitely on the horizon a few months after my release.

- Brian T. Atkinson

Kinky Friedman's appropriately titled Resurrection marks his eighth release since millennium's turn. The legendary raconteur's late-career resurgence – including the studio albums The Loneliest Man I Ever Met (2015) and Circus of Life (2018) follows a relative dry spell as a songwriter from the eighties through the nineties. Following is an excerpt from Friedman's chapter in Brian T. Atkinson's recent book The Messenger: The Songwriting Legacy of Ray Wylie Hubbard (Texas A&M University Press).

Kinky Friedman: Ray Wylie Hubbard and I are about the only two musicians from Texas with an inherent sense of humor. I remember finding Ray very funny onstage and off. That was a rarity. Others have a sense of humor but don't reveal it. You don't know that Willie is a really funny guy if you just watch the show, but he could do a pretty good standup act. Ray Wylie and I are so funny that it's really a curse. I think it would have been a more financial pleasure for both of us if we had been serious, pompous-ass motherfuckers to start with. Although now, I'm passing into what could be a real hot air for the Kinkster. Happens every ten years. I get hot. Ray and I did a lot of shit together, but the problem is that I've forgotten the first half of my life. I'm seventy-three now. People get confused. I never recorded “Redneck Mother.” They see me doing “They Ain't Making Jews Like Jesus Anymore,” and they think they saw Kinky doing “Redneck Mother.” That's always been true of the public. You do The Tonight Show, and they think they saw you on something else. The public and the media never quite get it right. They think the wrong person did that song. The only ones who ever get it right are Ray and Kinky, and sometimes I'm not so sure about Ray. That was pretty good. The last thing I said right there is the first thing that's made sense.

“Redneck Mother” was a watershed song, one that pushed the spiritual envelope a little and really rung true. It's also fun and funny. “Redneck Mother” was calculated just enough to not succeed as much as “Muskrat [Candlelight]” by Willis Alan Ramsey. It's not gonna be a mainstream commercial success, but it does avoid nostalgia. It's been a long time and the song still holds up. I don't wish I would have written it, though. I think there's only one song I wish I'd written, and I can't remember the title of it. If you find it, let me know. It wouldn't probably be a Ray song. You can tell Ray has a mixed audience of people, a mixed race audience. He appeals to Jewish homosexuals as well as African-Americans. He appeals to a lot of young people, which is good to see.

Ray and I weren't competitive. He was funny a lot of the time, and I think that'll always cost you. If you're gonna come on as Weird Al Yankovich, that's the way to go. Everything you do should be weird and funny. You should understand that you're never gonna be accepted as a serious writer. As Billy Joe Shaver would say, Ray Wylie and I are both serious souls who nobody takes seriously. There are some who do take us seriously, but they're probably living at the Shalom Retirement Village right now or the Bandera Home for the Bewildered. Are you getting all this? It's pure genius. What I'm saying is incredible. I didn't realize I was this spiritual. Like all good songwriters, you've gotta be miserable to write a good satirical song like “Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother.” If you're happy, you can forget about it. I suggest that anyone who wants to write, whether it's satirical or not, should first make sure they're miserable. It isn't hard. I think Flaubert's recipe for happiness is that you have to have three things: You have to be stupid, selfish and have good health. If stupidity is lacking, all is lost. You need those three elements. I think Lauren Bacall stated it differently. She said the key to happiness is good health and a bad memory. That's pretty wise. Writing satirical stuff is really pointless.

Ray going from country to blues is a real strange thing to do. That's akin to Bob Dylan [going electric] at Newport [in 1965]. I'd forgotten how much Bob Dylan was booed the first time he went on tour with The Band [then known as The Hawks in 1966]. They were booed at every show and Levon [Helm] was complaining, “What is the point of this shit if they end up booing us at every single show?” Then he did another tour with The Band years later [in 1974] and it was an amazing success. People were holding up their cigarette lighters. Fuck 'em and feed 'em Fruit Loops. You can't worry about that. Ray's definitely a serious soul and it looks like he's transitioned smoothly to blues. I find the blues stultifyingly dull myself. There are people who are not fucking bored by it like Bob Dylan. He loves the blues, but I wouldn't go to a blues show. Well, I might go, but I might blow my fucking head off.  

Terry Allen and the Panhandle Mystery Band's Just like Moby Dick delivers trademark wit (“Houdini Didn't Like the Spiritualists”) and wisdom (“Abandonitis”) fueled by vibrant narratives (“Sailin' on Through”). We recently spoke legendary songwriter about his first new collection in seven years. 

“I've never felt an obligation to put out a record every two years,” says Allen, an accomplished visual artist whose sculpture containng late songwriter Guy Clark's ashes soon will be housed at Texas State University's Wittliff Collections. “I've always thought that was some record label promo bullshit.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how the album took shape.

Terry Allen: The songs (are about) a desperation and the different stories that people go through from just being alive. I got stuck trying to figure out the record's sequence until we recorded “Sailin' On Through” and I say, “Just like Moby Dick” at the end. That phrase clicked and clarified how the record ought to feel. I try to make a record be one work because I've always had a hard time thinking of a record as just a bunch of songs. 

Sequencing is a lost art. 

Yeah. I think it's a digital thing. That's what I loved about (Allen's record label) Paradise of Bachelors. They were all about putting this out on vinyl when they first approached me. I miss the idea of being able to plot a record with Side A and Side B and making the work progress. I think that got lost when CDs came along even though you still had a sequence to work with. Digital blew that all to hell. I think that's why there's been a resurgence in vinyl. People miss the density of a group of songs. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Abandonitis.' 

Well, you get sick of songs that are just about self-pity. “Abandonitis” is about the fact that everybody goes through bullshit. Might as well get used to it. Deal and move on. 

Describe working with Shannon McNally. 

This might be the most collaborative record I've ever done. Shannon was great. A bunch of musicians and writers had the opportunity to sit down and write as a group. We pitched each other ideas. Some songs like “All These Blues Go Walkin'” came out of that. I've never really collaborated like that before except maybe in some theater pieces. Shannon is a great singer, very smart, a great writer. 

Will you collaborate again?

Well, we just had another session with (the album's producer and longtime Bob Dylan guitarist) Charlie (Sexton) in Marfa and wrote a bunch of songs. Shannon, (Allen's son) Bukka and I wrote a song about Dr. John. She was really close with Dr. John. So, that's something we have on the backburner. I know she wants to go down to New Orleans to record it. Collaborating been a real special surprise to me.

You've known Charlie some time. 

Yeah, I've known Charlie since he was a little kid. I've done things with his brother Will, but I've always wanted to do something with him, too. We did a show at the Paramount Theater in Austin and played all these new songs in 2019. I really needed to do something new. I've been wallowing in the past doing so many reissues and exhibitions of older art work lately. Texas Tech took all our archives. It just fell in line for us all to work together on the record. 

Speaking of archives, your Guy Clark sculpture will be going to the Wittliff. 

Yeah, it is. We're planning something around South by Southwest when we'll be playing (Willie Nelson's) Luck Festival. There will be some kind of commemoration. I wanted to get the sculpture to Texas and that was the best way. I had talked to (archive founder) Bill Wittliff extensively about the piece, but I didn't know if it would be in limbo after he passed. Bill had already prepped them for it, though. They're excited about getting it and I'm excited they'll be getting it. 

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers' Years fortifies equal measures country (“Good As Gold”) and rock (“New Ways to Fail”) with razor sharp songwriting (the title track). We recently talked with Shook about the new collection, her creative process and growing as a songwriter.
“I've never really written a song with the intention of having it fit a record,” the North Carolina native says. “The song we as a band think are the most cohesive are the ones that go on the record. Some songs on Years were a few years older but a handful are newer.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Tell the story behind writing the title track. 

Sarah Shook: I wrote “Years” about two weeks before we went into the studio. I was uneasy and felt like the album was missing something. “Years” was a culmination of the themes and ideas presented earlier in the record and the song tied up things nicely at the end. I think “Years” is the most self-aware track on the record. 

Describe the album's common lyrical theme.

There's drinking, murky introspection and relationship conflicts. Writing songs from your own perspective is easy, but I tried to tell the story from the both points of view in the song “Good As Gold.” I put myself in the other person's shoes and had empathy for their perspective. I was trying to understand where things are in this relationship and how and why they got to where they were.

 
Writing from another perspective probably develops more empathy for people in general.

Absolutely. Writing from another perspective shouldn't be confined to only romantic relationships. (We) should have the ability to see things from someone else's perspective even if you don't agree with them. Then you can empathize and understand why people do what they do, but it's still important to hae boundaries. You shouldn't allow things just because you understand them more. The healthy thing is remove yourself from the situation if the other person isn't respecting those boundaries. 

Describe your songwriting process. 

Lyrics, melody and chord progressions usually come at the same time. I'll write a loose arrangement and bring the song to the band. Then we collaborate with the arrangement we feel fits the song best. Our bassist Aaron (Oliva) might have an idea for an intro part. (Lap steel guitarist) Phil (Sullivan) and (lead guitarist) Eric (Peterson) might come up with where they want the solos. Everyone contributes to the final arrangement, which is a special finishing touch we have as a band. 

Describe how 'New Ways to Fail' took shape.

I was in a failing relationship and was literally so depressed I couldn't get out of bed. I was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, as my dad used to say, when I wrote that song. I was aware I was coming to the end of my tether, but I also felt pretty trapped. There's always that fear of the unknown and anxiety with anyone ending a relationship. 

You must be working on a new record.

Yeah. Definitely. We've had a few rehearsals, but then we're back on the road. It's been a rollercoster. There really hasn't been time to sit down and rehearse. So, we decided to take this December, January and February off. We just have a couple shows each month. We'll spend the next three months at home and have a pretty rigorous schedule to get songs ready for the next record. I'm really excited about that.

Chris Knight's new Almost Daylight delivers trademark grit (“I'm William Callahan”) and groove (the title track). Knight's soaring melodies have skyrocketed him up the Alt-Country Specialty Chart into November. “That's great,” Knight says. “People hear songs (on the radio) and go, 'I like that song. Who's this guy?' Then they look me up and maybe come to a show or download some music.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the album came together.

Chris Knight: Some songs had been around. Some were fairly new within the last couple years. Others were songs I forgot about and then found again and rewrote. They were songs I liked but something kept me from recording them. So, I fixed them. 

Explain how you know when they're ready.

I know when I don't doubt myself because I don't like a few lines or a melody. You know when they're good enough. Some songs take hours, some take months, others take years. These songs were already in my catalog with my publishers. I listened to a CD that was with a publisher and found the songs. 

Tell the story behind writing 'I'm William Callahan.'

I wrote that a long time ago with my friend Tim Krekel. I liked the song and lyrics, but the melody and a few lines weren't right. I thought I could do something with it and completely changed the melody. I changed it to where I really wanted to record it, which is why it ended up the first track on the record.

Explain how essential personal experience is to your writing. 

Well, nothing is spot-on biographical, but there are chards of truth about my family, me, people that I've known. You could hear a story that happened two thousand miles away and find something to write about. Take “Down the River” (from Knight's 2001 album A Pretty Good Day). We fish the Green River. My brother and another guy down there are always at odds with each other. You just turn it into a song. I'm not gonna write a song like “Seminole Bingo” by Warren Zevon. I don't know shit about stock markets and drugs other than drugs are bad. 

Tell the story behind writing 'Send It on Down.'

I've sat in the bleachers on a football field on a Sunday morning and probably had a quart of Stroh's beer. It's not that uncommon if you grew up where I did. The girls I like are rich, but there's no way they're gonna have anything to do with me. Everybody's experienced stuff like that. I grew up in the woods but went to town on a Saturday night. My daddy didn't own a hardware store and didn't drink, but that's something we thought up to write about. 

Describe working with Lee Ann Womack on that song. 

Great. She came in ready to go. She came in to sing with me and had a great part ready. It was surprising. I thought she was gonna put a little harmony on but she did almost a duet. I love it. 

You've known her a while.

Yeah, I've known her for more than twenty years. We were both on Decca Records and she married Frank Liddell, who got me signed to my first publishing and record deals. I really appreciated her coming down to sing that. We cut that at Ray Kennedy's studio Room and Board. Lee Ann came over one day when Ray and I were doing overdubs. I'm glad I was able to be there when she came in.

John Prine also appears on the record ('Mexican Home'). 

I've always been a huge John Prine fan. I did a couple shows with him in the northeast years ago. Ray and John are real good friends. I wasn't planning to cut “Mexican Home,” but I thought I'd put one more song on there right at the end. I started playing it and the band fell in. We cut it pretty much in one take. John's a great guy. Listen to his records. He's just like you think he is.

John Schneider effortlessly balances sacred (Recycling Grace) and secular (Redneck Rebel) with a sideways grin. We spoke with the Dukes of Hazard star about the new collection (both released last fall), his new Dukes-themed new movie and singing at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville.
“I love leaning up against the same brick wall where Bob Willis, Johnny Cash, Little Jimmy Dickens and Willie Nelson – with short hair – leaned at the Ryman,” Schneider says. “Lives have been changed in that room for decades and still are being changed. That place is truly hallowed ground.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how Redneck Rebel took shape. 

Kid Rock came to my birthday party. I got up onstage with him and got in touch with my inner wild child. The first song we did was “Duck Blind.” Then we did “Long Way from Lonely” and “Nothing to Do with Love.” It got infectious. (Schneider's wife) Alicia (Allain) and I looked at each other and said, “The crowd is having so much fun. We need to do these.” I also had heard the song “Stoned on the One” by Andrew Pope, which is a hell of a hard song to sing. I didn't know whether I could do it, but we decided to go for it and did the vocal in one pass. That's my favorite thing I've ever done. 

Describe the album's common thread. 

Fearlessness. I'm enjoying it. People really seem to love “Stoned on the One,” which is such an old school Waylon Jennings-type song. My band Stars 'N' Bars are all over forty and grew up on Southern rock with twin guitar harmonies. They tear it up onstage and inspire me to really go for it especially on songs like “Southern Rock Survivor” and “Backwoods Soul.” I get stronger but also raspier the more shows we do. I'm more proud of how the album sounds, but I honestly believe we're better live. 

Explain exactly how you live fearlessly. 

Whiskey (laughs). Actually, I do gargle with bourbon and (drink) it when I sing. I put a little lemon and honey in the whiskey and it seems I get less and less fearful the more I gargle. The magic for your voice is eating the lemon rind, which is pretty darn good after sitting in the whiskey and honey. 

Describe how Johnny Cash guided you toward the new gospel album. 

Johnny and I did (the made-for-television Western) Stagecoach together in 1986. Then I lived at their house for a year and change while I was touring in 1987. I said, “John, people are asking me to do a gospel record.” “Well,” he said, “you should. You will.” “When?” “Don't worry,” he said. “You'll know when it's time to do it. You won't be able to not to.” Alicia and I were at a friend's funeral three decades later and one of the Blind Boys of Alabama sang what's been a favorite rendition of “Amazing Grace” for both of us, which is that song done to “House of the Rising Sun.”
B.J. Thomas was also at the funeral. “By the way,” he said as we were walking out, “you really need to do a gospel album.” That was the straw that broke the camel's back – in a good way. Johnny was right. I looked up in the sky and said, “You were right. We gotta do this now.” People started sending us great material like “Recycling Grace” as soon as they found out we were doing a gospel record. It took thirty years, but it was easy once we started. I'm singing higher and stronger than ever with absolutely no fear on songs like “House of Amazing Grace.” You just go for it when you sing a song to god and it's praise and hope it's a joyful noise (laughs).

You close the album with a real standard “I'll Fly Away”).

Oh, isn't that great? We all went for it and had such a great time. The band was all in the room at the same time when we did “House of Amazing Grace” and “I'll Fly Away.,” which was like having church while we recorded at Sound Kitchen in Cool Springs, Tennessee. Everybody came to worship. We're getting wonderful responses that it's people's new favorite worship album. We had somebody say that it reminded them of (the gospel choir) God's Property because it has that big vibe in songs like “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down.” 

Meanwhile, you have the new Christmas movie inspired by Dukes of Hazard. 

Yeah, I was writing a book called My Life, My Way. Alecia said, “You know, it's the fortieth anniversary of Dukes of Hazard. Why don't you incorporate all this stuff into a Dukes-themed script for Christmas?” I stopped writing the book when the title Christmas Cars for the movie came to me. There couldn't possibly be a better title for Dukes fans. I play Uncle Denver in honor of Denver Pyle, who was Uncle Jesse on Dukes, and we put songs like “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down” and “House of Amazing Grace” in it The great thing about a movie: You can put in any music you want. Why not put your own in there?

The Mavericks' vibrant Play the Hits interprets classics from country (John Andserson's “Swingin'”) to rock (Bruce Springsteen's “Hungry Heart”) and back again (Waylon Jennings' “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?”). We spoke to guitarist Eddie Perez about the record and what's next for the band.
“We've been working hard on a documentary film that tells the history of the band for the last year and a half,” Perez says. “We also might release an all-Spanish record this year, which would be the first Mavericks record in Spanish. Plus, we're getting ready to go on XM radio's Outlaw Country cruise.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how the new album came together. 

Eddie Perez: These songs have been influential in different degrees. They had to have a resonance with our front man Raul (Malo). We've been playing them on the road and fans have said, “Hey, we'd love to hear a recorded version of that song.” We started going into the studio last year when we were off the road and experimenting with some covers then that snowballed into this record once we got the energy going. We were thinking about the songs that pertain to the energy and spirit of the Mavericks.

Describe the song selection process.

We have many other covers that find their way onto a Mavericks set list from time to time, but these are the ones we felt most connected to and related most to Raul. The singer is putting that energy across, so the lyric and melody have to have a resonance with him. Raul guided this process. We figured a covers record would be a good thing.

Explain what drew you to 'Swingin'.”.

That was such a massive song for John Anderson back in the day and it resonated with the band. Country music still had a certain sound and connection when the band was formed in 1989. “Swingin'” was always around back then. We'd performed it a time or two and had put our Maverick sound on it before we knew it. What a fun song to do. People dig it live. It was a big influence on us.

Describe how you approach the arrangements. 

Well, the songs are all great in their own rights. People will say, “Why cover that song?” Raul stepped back a little – much to his credit – and allowed a band that plays a hundred-plus shows a year the time to get in the studio and experiment. He had great arrangement ideas, but it really is a collective effort. He allows the energy for individuality and we benefit from playing together so much. 

Did you find it challenging or freeing to interpret covers?

It can be all kinds of things. I think our close proximity and comaraderie helps. There's not a lot of spoken dialogue about what we're doing. It's just the energy we have like we all speak the same language and we're all drawing on the same musical ideas and principles. There's a certain taste factor for what we do. There's a reason for all of it. It comes down to the sum of the parts for me.

 
That certainly applies to your cover of 'Hungry Heart.' 

Thanks. Yeah, we're all big Springsteen fans, which goes back to the mid-seventies when I was first turned on to music. My father was a big music fan and he was into Bruce. We all have the same reverence for The Boss. We've recorded Springsteen songs in the past, but Raul just felt a connection with this one. He felt like he had a great twist on the melody and style. I feel like we did something in our unique Mavericks way. 

I met Steve Earle at Guy Clark's house in Nashville. He was about eighteen years old and talking a mile a minute all the time. Steve clearly was a natural songwriter. His heroes were Guy and Townes, so he had a good basis for storytelling and the Texas songwriter tradition. I'd run into him in bars and talk about this and that. I think Steve liked the danger of Townes and clearly revered Guy. Everything revolved around Bishop's Pub for me. Guy lived near there and would come by now and again. 

Guy might come in if Townes was around, but I don't remember Steve actually playing there. It seemed Steve was bouncing back and forth between Texas and Nashville. The Exit/Inn was going on and you'd run into those guys there. I remember talking with Steve at this place called Jock's and he was just going ninety miles an hour about something. I was worn out from doing whatever I was doing and I just said, “Steve, stop. Take a breath. Count to ten.” He was young and full of life. 

I hadn't seen him in a couple years. I said, “Hey, Steve, how you doing?” I was thinking he'd do the time honored response: “Fine and you?” Except “How you doing?” to Steve is like the first line in a Russian novel. Two hours later, I'm still standing there listening to how he's doing. That's just how he is. At any point, you can say, “Hey, Give it a drink, Steve.” I saw him the other night on TV in the movie Leaves of Grass. I was thinking, He's really good. It took me a while and I think it took other people a while to realize Steve wasn't just blowing smoke when he was talking. There's a whole lot going on there. I think once he did Guitar Town that became clear to a lot of people. I remember hearing him do “Tom Ames' Prayer,” a very tight narrative story. I guess you would call it a dramatic monologue. It's very well done. I think he was nineteen when he wrote it. 

It's a huge honor that he would perform my song “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.” I think in that time period – from the late seventies to early eighties – there were people writing song who were really struggling to get the right lyric. It doesn't mean that they were really stilted, they just worked really hard at things and the way you felt they ought to be said. It seems like songwriting today is just a lot of things blurted out. Sometimes that can work but back then Guy and Townes and John Hiatt, the goal is to write a song with natural sounding poignancy. I think people worked on that aspect. I think that's what Steve was talking about with “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.” I appreciate that another writer like Steve appreciates my lyrics.  

 Sad Daddy’s  Way Up in the Hills spotlights rustic narratives both timely (“Arkansas Bound”) and timeless (“Bacon”). We recently spoke with singer Brian Martin about writing during the pandemic, food songs, and the stellar new collection.   “Everything got canceled on us during the first COVID summer  so we got  together just to feel like we were musicians again,” Martin says.  “Then  we  started on the next round of material for when we get to play again. Everything snowballed from there.”    

Alt-country Specialty Chart: Have you been  writing  more during the pandemic?  

Brian Martin:  I was definitely firing away at the beginning. I felt like I was flying high for the first six to nine months. I would see people saying, “I don’t know what to do with myself,”  but I was loving it. I’m a natural hermit anyway, but  then  I had too much time after that first nine month and didn’t know what to do with myself either.      

Explain the title  Way Up in the Hills.  I live out in the middle of the woods. Joe  (Sundell)  lives in Little Rock but would probably rather be in the woods. Melissa  (Carper)  and Rebecca  (Patek)  also live in the woods. Getting away from everything seemed natural to us given the state of the world. We found our peace here. We made a conscious effort to make this more of a thematic record than we have done in the past.    

Describe the  theme.    Getting back to the basics, getting out of the system and resetting was the theme. We all write in the band  have always just brought in songs we were working on. They would go different directions.This time  we had songs we consciously worked on together for this album the first time. We started recognizing the same stuff (lyrically). We were talking about the same things. That theme obviously was what we’re trying to say lyrically as a group.    

Tell the story behind writing ‘Arkansas Bound.’  Melissa  actually  brought that one to the table. Melissa and I tend to write a lot of songs about Arkansas. We feel it gets left out. She has a thing where she’ll move to Arkansas for a couple years, then back to Texas or to Tennessee for a couple and then back to Arkansas. I think she writes about Arkansas when she’s away from it. She longs for this place when she’s  (traveling) the country.    

I like the song ‘Bacon.’  Yeah, I always try to bring in a song about food. I wrote “Bacon” a couple years back and brought it to this project. You can’t mess up a food song in the South – especially if you’re singing about bacon. I had “Mama Don’t Cook It” on our first album. Then I wrote a song about my aunt’s catfish restaurant on the second one. The topics are built-in winners. I love the smell of bacon. That keeps you going. Sorry vegans, but I’m a die hard bacon fan forever. It’s wonderful.    

Explain the story behind ‘Charlie Pickle.’    “Charlie Pickle” was very collaborative. I think that was the first song we all worked on when we started this project. I brought the lyrical content to that one. You know, I should say he’s a real guy just to start the rumors, but he’s just a guy I imagine. You go through life at bars and festivals and there’s always that guy. The name Charlie Pickle sounded like a fun character. We’ve all encountered  a Charlie Pickle.  

- Brian T. Atkinson

The Peter Cooper and Eric Brace produced I Love: Tom T. Hall’s Songs of Fox Hollow seamlessly captures the legendary songwriter in peak form. We caught up with Cooper for his reflections on the recently late, always great Tom T. Hall. 
“I discovered Tom T.’s music when I was a child when his Songs of Fox Hollow album came out,” Cooper says. “It was something I could listen to with my dad and my grandfather without any of us feeling anything less than entertained. “Tom T. never talked down to children in song or speech. He didn’t speak to them in a silly voice. He talked to them like human beings because they were and they are.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain what drew you to Tom T.’s songs. 
Peter Cooper: As I got older, I grew to love his songs because of his way of using simple language to convey complex emotions and situations. Tom T. never used an expensive word, but his songs are priceless. 

Talk about any favorite songs/albums.
My favorite Tom T. album is probably “In Search of a Song,” which was written while on a trip to … well, to find songs. He took that trip with a buddy named Bill Littleton. Listening to this album gave me a window into a songwriter’s life, but also a window into the dignity and nobility of people who were otherwise overlooked. As for a favorite song, there are so many. The ones I have chosen to sing most nights onstage are “Mama, Bake a Pie” and “A Million Miles to the City,” but I also adore “I Couldn’t Live in Southern California” and “Ballad of Forty Dollars.” One of the most overlooked Tom T. songs is his version of brother Hillman Hall’s “Gimme Peace.” “The Man Who Shot Himself” makes me think and cry every time. 

Describe his greatest strength as a songwriter.
Tom T.’s greatest strength as a songwriter was his greatest strength as a person: A respect and empathy for the inner and outer turmoil of every living soul. Listen to “The Fallen Woman” and you’ll understand immediately. 

Explain how he’s regarded among songwriters in Nashville. 
Tom T.’s legacy is singular. No one has ever written songs like him, though so many of us have tried. He invented the “Tom T. Hall” song. 

Describe how he helped shape the city’s songwriting community.
In spite of what Bob Dylan asserted in a California speech, Tom T. was supportive of every songwriter who came to Nashville and offered something special and different. He was the first writer to lend a hand to Kris Kristofferson. Until his death, he sent hand-written letters to country and bluegrass writers who he deemed to be of soulful consequence. He was a master of intentional kindness. 

Explain how you entered Tom’s world personally.
I met Tom T. at an Earl Scruggs birthday party and he told me he enjoyed the things I wrote for the Nashville Tennessean newspaper. He soon invited me to a picking party at his home, where I stayed far outside a music circle that included Scruggs, John Hartford, and other greats. He then asked if I would like a sip of the whiskey he had made with a great American, the “Bootleg Preacher” Will D. Campbell. I nodded in the affirmative. After a couple of sips, he entered the music circle and said, “I’ve got an idea: Hand Peter Cooper that guitar and make him sing a song, and then we’ll all write in to the newspaper tomorrow and let them know what we think.” I had no option but to play a song, but I had the gumption to say, “If you don’t like this one, I didn’t write it.” I then played Tom T.’s “Mama, Bake a Pie.” When I finished, he said, “I haven’t even thought of that song in thirty years, but if I were you I wouldn’t play it in (notoriously conservative) Williamson County.”

Describe how the I Love tribute album took shape.
In 2010, my wife gave birth to our child, Baker. The first song I played in the delivery room was Tom T.’s “I Love.” A couple of months later, my dear friend Eric Brace and I gathered some of our favorite performers at Tom T.’s studio and remade his “Songs of Fox Hollow” album. My son came along to hear the recordings. 

Explain the song and artist selection process.
We asked people who loved Tom T. – Patty Griffin, Buddy Miller, Jim Lauderdale, Bobby Bare, and others – to come and sing. It was one of the most magical weeks of my life. Tom T.’s songwriting wife, Dixie, catered the proceedings. Tom T. sat and listened and didn’t give advice except to say to Patty Griffin, “If you forget the words, just make them up: That’s what I did.” A purely joyful exercise in music-making. If I could go back to any point in time, it would be right there. 

What do you think about the previous tribute album Real: The Tom T. Hall Project?
I think that Real: The Tom T. Hall Project was a major turning point in helping people in the alternative country/Americana world to understand the genius of this great man. Iris DeMent’s version of “I Miss a Lot of Trains” is breathtaking, as is R.B. Morris’s “Don’t Forget the Coffee, Billy Joe.” The only bummer is that Ryan Adams flubbed the last (and most important) line of “I Hope It Rains At My Funeral” on an otherwise fine Whiskeytown version of the song. It was a careless error, but the project stands as important and valuable. 

Describe what he was like as a friend as you got to know him outside music.
I’ve not known a better friend than Tom T. Hall. He seemed to have experienced everything, and was always willing and able to help without ever being intrusive. When, as he wrote, “God was on vacation for awhile,” he would send flowers and well-wishes. He treasured his experiences with Will D. Campbell, Alex Haley, Miller Williams, Andy Kaufman, Jimmy Carter, and many more, and he shared those experiences in the form of grand advice and counsel. I remember when the “Me Too” movement was getting going, and Tom T. said, “Well, they’re not gonna get me on that one.” I said, “Sure, T., you’re a gentleman.” He said, “Well, I was in the Army and I learned to follow rules. When I came to Nashville, I made some rules for myself, and I followed them. The first rule was, ‘Don’t ever stick your dick in the cash register. Boy, the world would be different if folks followed that rule. 

You recently went back to his childhood home to bring him dirt. 
A few weeks before he died, I went to his hometown of Olive Hill, Kentucky, and I visited his old homestead to dig some dirt for Tom T. to put in his garden. I didn’t get to bring it to him, but it will still go into his garden. It’s dirt that was in the ground right by the coldest, cleanest stream in Eastern Kentucky. He once sang, “Those clear Kentucky streams, they’re always in my dreams/ I think that is something you should know.” And I knew.
– Brian T. Atkinson

Chris Canterbury’s Quaalude Lullabies moves (“The Devil, The Dealer & Me”) and grooves (“Felt the Same”) with endless elegance (Will Kimbrough’s “Yellow Mama”). We recently spoke with the Nashville-based songwriter about his superlative new collection, producing his own record and why he included a cover with the originals.

“I don’t remember when I first heard ‘Yellow Mama,’ but Will put the song out on (Kimbrough’s album) EP years ago,” Canterbury says. “I happened to stumble across it. Also, I heard Cody Canada play it years ago as a toss-around cover song for an encore. He came out and played it acoustic. I thought, Man, that’s such a cool, old-time feel. The lyrics are dark. Right up my alley.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe how the new album took shape.

Chris Canterbury: I had more than ten songs that I could record and it’s been a while since I made an album. I thought, Let me at least make some demos. I didn’t know if I had enough tracks to make a record, but these songs turned out to be pretty cohesive and fit together as an album. I decided to go ahead and look at it from an album standpoint rather than just putting out singles.

Yeah, the record needs to be taken in as a whole. 

I think so. I’m an old school guy when it comes to releasing records instead of singles. I think the album is still king in certain subsets of Americana and country music. Also, I like to have other songs to compare it to when someone releases a single. I like to build a bigger picture like I was going for with Quaalude Lullabies.

Explain that title.

Well, most songs are sad downers (laughs). The title is a nod to how the album touches on different struggles, which aren’t necessarily personal struggles but ones I’ve heard about from friends. The album got really dark when I started putting the songs together and I wanted something (in the title) that reflected the tone of the album. I feel like that was a nod to the late seventies and early eighties.

Does writing other people’s stories come easier than writing your own?

I don’t know if those are easier to write about, but they’re easier to frame. It’s easier for me to tell my own stories from a third person point of view, and it’s easier to tell other people’s stories from my own point of view. I find it more compelling that way. Telling a story in the way you feel it

 coming across (allows) poetic license.

Tell the story behind writing the opening track ‘The Devil, The Dealer & Me.’

I wrote that with my good friend Vinnie Paolizzi. I had a couple verse ideas, which were just turns of phrase, but he came in and had a little melody and this line, “A heart only breaks when you use it.” We wrote around that. The narrator is looking in the mirror and realizing that he has a lot of stuff going on. We wrote about this internal conversation that could be anywhere between an hour or thirty seconds.

Takes balls to open an album with such a slow song.

Well, that song setting the tone for the album was definitely my strategy. I didn’t want a full-production album. My internal blueprint for the record was to listen to Springsteen’s Nebraska. I love the fact that it’s basically a bunch of demos. I wanted to put something together that’s similar to that vibe but didn’t want to replicate it. The tone I wanted to set was, “Chris writes sad songs. Most of the time they’re slow.”  

Describe producing yourself.

It was the first time that I did. I’ve always had someone else or hired a producer, but I was comfortable with these songs and knew what they sounded like in my head. I just relayed what I had in my head to the musicians, who understood the music and vibe as well. I didn’t have to do much other than say, “Let’s try it like this.” The album turned out exactly how I wanted it to turn out. I was very well pleased and am looking forward to doing it again.

– Brian T. Atkinson

Lisa Morales’ Rain in the Desert sheds light on human rights (“Freedom”) and the opioid crisis (“Flyin’ and Cryin’”) among other sociopolitical issues. We recently spoke with Morales about the politically driven new EP.

“I had a house full of people living with me during the pandemic,” Morales says. “I needed to get away for a few days and asked my friend who has a place in Taos if I could (go there) to write a bit. I wrote these five songs in five days.”

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Describe the album’s common lyrical theme.

Lisa Morales: The current political climate. I was just so fed up and so tired of both sides being so crazy. I grew up in a mixed political household with Democrats and Republicans and we got along just fine.

Explain what was bothering you most.

I was bothered by people saying they’re Christian, but they’re not loving each other. So, yeah, I just holed up in that house and purged all my thoughts. I was saying, “It’s dry out here. I need rain in the desert.”

The opening track ‘Freedom’ fits that theme.

‘Freedom’ is about the lack of the love your neighbor (concept). I can’t believe we’re in this century but all the way back in the 1950s. Shocking. I’m appalled as a Mexican-American. I had to stand up and say something. I was watching everything that was happening and not seeing anyone speak out. I had to speak out.

Social media certainly doesn’t help.

It definitely feeds it. The idea that everything you read on Facebook is hilarious. Then there’s the idea that there’s one television station people listen to and it’s completely the polar opposite to what the rest of the world is saying. People listening to that just boggles my mind. My relatives aren’t speaking to each other because of it. I’m talking about eighty-year-old people. Crazy. News used to be not opinionated. They used to just state the facts. It’s very slanted today. We’re getting news polarized.

Tell the story behind writing ‘Flyin’ and Cryin’.’

I had written the song and asked Rodney Crowell to sing background vocals. I sent him the song and he called me the next day. “I’ve listened to the song five or six times,” he said. “I understand what this is about. I want to help you write that.” Rodney Crowell wants to help me write a song? I’m in.

You’ve known Rodney for a while, right?

We had been friends for years, but it was so cool to have the opportunity to work with him. The song was about a friend who I didn’t realize was hooked on oxycodone. Unfortunately, he died. Rodney knew someone in a similar place with addiction. It was great timing for both of us to write together.

– Brian T. Atkinson 

Hayes Carll’s You Get It All matches raucous (“Nice Things”) against reflective (“If It Was Up to Me”) and covers all ground between (“In the Mean Time”). We recently caught up with the Music City resident to talk about co-writing the vibrant collection.“I moved to Nashville a few years back and started writing with folks more,” Carll says. “I didn’t have any intention other than writing songs that I enjoyed but looked down after a certain point and realized I had a number of songs I really loved.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain the album title You Get It All. Hayes Carll: The title track represents giving your all to your relationship and the good, bad, and different layers and warts. I’ve rarely written a record conceptually. I just look at the songs and see what makes sense for a title. This was no different. I looked at the songs and realized that there were songs about relationships and life’s highs and lows – whether it’s about falling in love or having knock down drag out fights with your spouse or losing someone to dementia and everything in between. I think the songs covered a lot of the human experience as far as I could write about it.

Tell the story behind writing ‘Nice Things.’ I wrote that with (John and TJ Osborne of) Brothers Osborne. We wrote a song a few months earlier (“Back on the Bottle”) that ended up on their record Skeletons. We had a good time so we got together again and I had that chorus about not being able to have nice things. I was just thinking about it in terms of a wife and a husband, but John or TJ suggested zooming out and looking at the world as a whole. The song became more than that and became about polluting the oceans and the war on drugs, which gave it more room to make a real point and not be just a clever song. Then we thought, Who can pass judgment and tell us how we’re screwing up? Who has that right? God was the one person who could get away with it. 

Are you getting used to collaborating more on songs now?Well, I still write by myself, but I find lately that there have been lots of opportunities to get together with incredible people to write. My discipline has never been great. I can start something that will take years to finish. There’s more motivation to get to the heart of the song and get the work done when I’m in the room with someone. Also, I come into songs like “Nice Things” thinking it’s about something and someone else says, “It could be like this.” That completely opens it up and changes the whole song. These ones were based on hooks, ideas and titles that I had, but they would not exist like they ended up without another perspective there. I enjoy that. I mean, there are times I give out ideas that I wished that I kept to myself, but mostly someone really makes the song more than I could have on my own. 

Is it satisfying when someone broadens the scope or less so because you didn’t?I’m happy if it works. I’m not married to the idea, but I also won’t go along with it if I don’t think someone’s idea will work. So, it’s an issue if someone has a good idea that I’m not down with, but I don’t care who came up with what idea if we get what we want out of the song. I don’t need that credit externally or internally for myself. 

Tell me about Aaron Raitiere, who you wrote ‘Any Other Way’ with.Aaron writes for Dave Cobb’s publishing branch and is an artist who’s just getting going and put out his first record. He’s one of the first people I wrote with when I moved to Nashville. We wrote “Any Other Way” and “She’ll Come Back to Me” and some others that didn’t make the record. He’s a good old boy who is really creative and has a perspective that I really enjoy. He’s one of my favorite people. 

I’m curious how you hooked up with Brandy Clark for “In the Mean Time.”I’ve been a fan for a long time. We were up for a Best Country Song Grammy years ago, but neither of us won. I watched her perform on the Grammys and was blown away by the song. I looked at the whole record and became a huge fan. She was on the list of people I wanted to work with and a mutual connection made it happen. 

I’m sure you’re happy to be back on the road to play these new songs. Yeah, I’m grateful. It’s strange, though. I don’t think lots of people feel safe coming out at this point or they are protesting whatever restrictions there are. We’re losing quite a few folks to both sides on that, but control whatever I can and make music and try to be present and connect with the folks who show up. 

– Brian T. Atkinson 

Southern Culture on the Skids rocks fast (“Whip It on Me”) and furiously (“Certain Girl”) throughout Kudzu Records Presents. Covers transcend (“Devil with the Blue Dress On”). We recently spoke with SCOTS front man Rick Miller.“We actually have two new records called Kudzu Records Presents and At Home with Southern Culture on the Skids,” Miller says. “Kudzu is half a reissue. The first six songs already were a box set of singles – three forty-fives on press-on vinyl.” 

Alt-Country Specialty Chart: Explain how you recorded Kudzu. Rick Miller: We recorded it on sixteen track two-inch tape, mixed it down to two-inch tape, which I edited. Then I drove the tape to Nashville. I had a guy there with an old Neumann lathe who cut the laquer masters from the tape right there. Then I took it to United Pressing and they plated it that day. That was an education in vinyl production. Everything was analog. 

Vinyl keeps regaining popularity. Yeah, We only did a thousand and those records sold out immediately. People started asking if it could be available as a digital download or a compact disc, so we added seven new recordings and put it out as a full-length album. We used the same artwork as we did back in 2003 except the insides.  

Talk about who you worked with in Nashville. His name is Randy Kling. Randy has this tiny place right on Music Row where we dubbed the tape on an MCI two-track. I sat there and watched him cut it, which was amazing. He was close to retiring, but his sons might do something now. I said, “Randy, you’ve cut vinyl and made masters for so long. What do you think the best sounding vinyl was?” His answer wasn’t what I expected. 

And his answer was...I thought he was gonna say, “It was those big, old 180-gram vinyls we used to make back in the fifties.” No. He said, “The best sounding vinyl is that really flimsy stuff we used to have back in the eighties.” He said the formula for making vinyl was perfect then. There may be people who say, “I don’t know about that.”

Like how some artists listen back through crappy sound systems on purpose. Exactly right. That’s why NS-10 (amplifiers) are in every studio. You’ll have these beautiful speakers and really high tech monitors with two crappy NS-10s sitting on top. It’s like how we always had a CD player in our van, which was our final go-to (when mixing albums). We would burn a CD, pop it into the old Econoline van and listen on speakers that had coffees spilled on them. That was our bottom line. I had an old Sony cassette player with RCA inputs for the longest time. I would hook up our big MCI board into it to listen to our records. People listen to music that way. Well, now they’re listening on crappy sounding ear buds. 

You guys have always done vinyl, right?Yeah, we did every record on vinyl when nobody was doing it, but now we can’t really afford it. Vinyl costs so much money and takes so long to make and sell because it’s way more expensive. I don’t know if people really listen to vinyl so much as collect it. Records all come with digital downloads now. I still listen to vinyl, have a huge collection and a nice turntable. Some people like me still listen to vinyl. 
– Brian T. Atkinson