A Conversation With Caleb Caudle

Photo by Laura Partain

By Kevin Broughton

Caleb Caudle wanted an earthy, funky sound for his new album. He assembled several Grammy-winning musicians to chase it down in the Cash Cabin, a small place with a big history. “It feels like you’re in the shadow of giants,” Caudle says.

He emerged from the shadows with Better Hurry Up, his eighth studio album. Its 11 songs showcase Caudle’s vivid lyrics and foreboding vocals, as well as the work of an A-list cast of musicians. John Jackson of the Jayhawks produced, and guest vocalists include Courtney Marie Andrews, Elizabeth Cook, Gary Louris, and John Paul White.

A large sound emerged from the little cabin, which Johnny Cash built in 1979 as a private sanctuary near his home outside Nashville. It evolved into a recording studio more than a decade later. Since then the rustic structure has hosted sessions by everyone from Loretta Lynn and Emmylou Harris to Jamey Johnson and Todd Snider, as well as Cash’s own work on his acclaimed series of American Recordings. Caudle and Jackson used the space to create a dramatic, compelling record.

We caught up with Caudle a few weeks back and talked about recording in such an iconic venue, how the band came together, and some unintentional irony in song titles.

I thought Crushed Coins was one of the great albums of 2018. There’s stark contrast between it and Better Hurry Up. Could you describe your thought process or approach …maybe your goals for a new/different sound as you set out to make this album?

I think the main difference was that this time I wanted to do as much live as I could: sing it live, play it live. Because that’s what I do every night. The approach was so raw that if you don’t like this record, you probably don’t like what I do every night. I came to terms with that and was fine with it, so…yeah. We just did it live. It felt good.

John Jackson of the Jayhawks produced the album, and his bandmate Gary Louris is one of several outstanding artists singing harmony vocals. What’s the connection with Jackson, and was your choosing him to produce based on his penchant for a particular sound?

He came to see me at a show in New York. He came up to the merch table afterwards and introduced himself, saying he had played with the Jayhawks. I had always loved the Jayhawks, so that was really cool. And we got to be friends, sharing music back and forth whether it was mine or whatever each of us was listening to at the time.

At some point he said, “Hey, would you mind sending me some demos, because I know you’re always writing?” So I just started sending him song after song, and we’d talk about each one: what he thought of it, what should be the focus of a particular song. One thing led to another and I was back in New York and at dinner he asked if he could produce the record. It just felt right; I liked his vibe and how he was really in tune with the songwriting. We pitched around some different studios, and he mentioned that he had worked at Cash’s Cabin – I think on a Loretta Lynn album. He suggested that, and I thought it felt perfect.

Y’all made liberal use of keyboards and pedal steel, which gives the whole album an ethereal, spacy feel. Was that something you set out to do ahead of time, or was it more of an organic thing during the arrangement process?

It was pretty spontaneous. Because what we did this time was hire all these people that I really trusted. I wasn’t given a ton of direction. Because you’re not gonna tell, for example, Mickey Raphael [harmonica] what to do; because he’s just gonna do his thing and be himself, and that’s what you’re looking for in the first place. Know what I mean? Because he’s gonna give it back to you better than you could ever ask for it.

Everything was just organic. I just told people to be themselves and do what they thought was right. They were all such high-caliber musicians that it all fell together really nicely.

Who put the band together for recording?

John and I had equal say when it came to the band. I had met Dennis Crouch [bass] – we had done a few demos together a few months before recording. And he just knows everyone in Nashville; he put me in touch with Fred Eltringham [drums] and Russ Pahl, who plays pedal steel. John knew Pat Sansone [keyboards] from Wilco and brought him in. And all the singers who were on the record, I had toured with the previous year. You know how it goes in this business; you meet everybody if you tour long enough.

It just came together naturally, and the record was really an easy one to make. By far the easiest record I’ve ever made.

Speaking of harmony vocals, one could do worse than Elizabeth Cook…

[Laughs] Yeah, she’s the best!

She makes three appearances I believe. Had y’all worked together before, and how likely are future collaborations?

She had taken me out on tour a couple times last year, so we were on stage singing together a lot. So, yeah, it came together really easily. She lives around the corner from us here in Nashville. She was great, of course.

There’s a line in “Feeling Free:” “It’s true I really ever only wanted to be a slave to things that’ll set me free.” Is that an allusion to anything particular?

Probably the road, you know? Touring. I’m really feeling it right now, you know, because of all the shows getting swiped. I’m so used to being on the road. Being on tour is second nature for me. Most of that song, though, is about being outdoors and trying to get away from it all. But I feel like I’m always on the chase; always trying to get to the next situation.

The first cut on the album is called “Better Hurry Up.” The next-to-last song is “Wait a Minute,” with a line in the chorus that says, “We get there when we get there.” Mixed messages? Irony? Tongue in cheek?

Ha! I didn’t even really know I did that until we were mixing the record. I said, “Oh, I wrote one called ‘Wait a Minute’ and one called ‘Better Hurry Up. I wonder if patience had anything to do with that?” It wasn’t really intentional, but it is kind of funny. Our whole routine on tour is a bunch of hurry up and wait. You just have to figure out when to take your shots, I guess.

The official release date for Better Hurry Up was April 3, not long after this virus changed everyone’s life. Obviously, tours are off the table indefinitely; what are some of the things you’re doing to adapt? And is there any reason for optimism going forward, in your view?

Aw, man. There’s always a reason for optimism, you know? If I lost hope, this would all be for nothing. I can’t go there; I don’t want to do that.

I’ve been going on long walks each day that the weather allows. There’s a nice park not far from our house…I’ve been doing some guitar work, learning some old traditional stuff. I’m just trying to learn. And I’ve been writing a bunch, too. Working on some clawhammer banjo here and there. Cooking. Eating a lot. [Laughs]

A lot of artists are streaming shows; have you dipped your toe in that at all?

Yeah, I did one for NPR last week and I did one for Wide Open Country yesterday. I’m trying not to do more than one a week. I just feel like everyone is going live all the time. And it’s how everyone’s getting by, so I totally get it. I just don’t want to take up too much space, so about once a week is all I’ll do.

What led you to record at the Cash Cabin? Is that a bucket-list thing for Nashville artists?

It was amazing. I got to sit in Johnny’s rocking chair while playing his guitar. The guys all gathered around me in a semi-circle with their pens and paper. I’d play them a song and they’d take their notes and we’d go in and run it once. Then we’d hit “record” on the second one and that’s usually the take we did.

Wow. What an experience.

Yeah. I knew we were going to Cash Cabin but had no idea I was going to get to do that. They handed me his guitar on the first day and I was blown away by that. It was a pre-War Martin for one thing; whether it belonged to someone famous or not, it’s an incredible guitar. But when it belonged to such a character as Johnny…and sitting in his rocking chair where he’d carved his initials in the right arm? Yeah, it was pretty special.

Better Hurry Up is available from Caleb’s site, Amazon, Apple Music, Spotify, etc.

Jason Bateman Blues

"Viral" Fun from Vinyl Ranch

All of these from Vinyl Ranch’s Instagram account.

I haven't quite been in the mood for illness humor yet, so I'm glad VR has.

ACMs Snubbed Jones, Cash, Ray Price, Says Man Who Apparently Time Traveled from the 70s

Larry Jack Pullen of West Memphis, Arkansas, who may be in possession of a device that can transport humans through time, is very upset with the Academy of Country Music awards nominations that were announced yesterday. He took to Facebook to announce his displeasure, saying “No George Jones, Johnny Cash or Ray Price. They are getting awards for ruining Country Music.” The comment was in response to a Facebook post that listed the likes of Thomas Rhett and Luke Combs as 2020 nominees.

When reached by Messenger for comment (I didn't tell him the artists he listed were no longer alive because I assumed he knew), Pullen went on a long rant about the fabric of America, smart phones, and something about “the Chinamen,” before finally getting back around to country music. 

“Riley Green, who’s she? If Johnny Paycheck isn’t up for best male artist, then what the hell is even going on? Nobody respects are elders any more and that’s why Jimmy Carter got elected.”

I asked Larry Jack if he could share the secret of time travel with me, but he said I must be on the reefer to ask something like that. “Your one of them what’s trying to make country music liberal and gay, aren’t you?” he asked. “IF YOU PEOPLE BY GOD RUIN WHAT GLEN CAMPBELL AND CONWAY TWITTY WORK EVERY DAY TO KEEP STRONG I WILL FIND WHERE YOU LIVE and you will regret it!” 

I tried to calm the conversation, but it was no use. “It’s a g***amn shame what their doing.” said Pullen, “I bet Tammy Wynette won’t even be preforming on the show, will she?” When I let him know that Wynette had sadly passed on, he told me to send condolences to her family and let him know where to send flowers. 

*this is based on a real Facebook comment (just the first one) - only the name was changed*

Happy Birthday, Johnny Cash

A Random Johnny Cash Parody Album Cover

Luke Bryan Likes to Hear His Own Songs

Country Christmas Parody Album Covers ft. Johnny Cash, Mitchell Tenpenny, Wynonna, etc.

Wrasslin' Memes: Koe Wetzel, Tyler Childers, etc.

More Monday Mornings Memes: George Strait, Johnny Cash, Kane Brown

Saturday Night Music / Johnny Cash / "The Beast in Me"

Country TwitterFAIL: October '19

Foul language warning

Funny? Yes. Elitist? Also yes. ~Trailer

Thomas Rhett to Dress Up as Country Singer For Halloween

Pop singer Thomas Rhett is looking for a costume for a Halloween party this weekend. He’s already chosen the theme - country singer - but he’s searching for the perfect presentation, visiting thrift stores and western wear outlets across Nashville. 

“I did a Google image search for ‘country singer’ and it came back with lots of western hats and boot-cut jeans and stuff,” says Rhett. “That’s so foreign to me - it’s always enlightening to see how other cultures live!” He tries on a huge foam cowboy hat but quickly returns it to the rack. “If they had it with a flat brim maybe.”

Rhett’s day to day wardrobe usually includes hip t-shirts, fitted pants, and high-dollar sneakers while his stage presence leans more toward tropical wear, varsity jackets, and custom denim. The aesthetics of country music fashion are a world away from his typical flair, but he’s digging it. “Ha, they call this a nude suit, I believe,” laughs Thomas, holding up a rhinestone and flower covered blue jacket. “I think old country dudes like Jeb Pierce and Porter Ladner used to wear these… such swag!”

After a couple of hours, Rhett has narrowed his selections down to an all black Johnny Cash-inspired ensemble or a Hank Sr. style outfit. “Did you know Hank had a father who was also a country singer?” asks Rhett. 

Still undecided at press time, Rhett seems excited about the impact he’ll make when he steps into the party as someone so different from himself. “They won’t even recognize me.”

Deleted Scenes From Country Videos 3

 (let them load all the way, some are large)

 (Tyler Childers - House Fire)

(Old Town Road)

Album Review / Chris Knight / Almost Daylight

By Travis Erwin

Somebody killed somebody songs. That’s the foundation of Chris Knight’s reputation as a songwriter and we’ve all seen the memes. They are funny and bring a smile, but those of us who call ourselves fans of Knight’s work can appreciate the truth of that reputation, as well our realization he routinely brings so much more than death and despair to his music. Under the layers of grit and Kentucky sweat, there is an authenticity that makes Knight’s words relatable. In that vein, his songs often offer the idea of hope, springing  from places of desperation. 

That said, Chris truly is “The Dark Knight of Country Music” and no contemporary delivers such heavy brooding emotion with such captivating integrity. His new album, Almost Daylight delivers a whole bunch of what we expect out of Knight, and a few surprises as well. 

Vocally there is that signature gruffness that has only grown more pronounced in the seven years since his last release, but given that Knight was never exactly a crooner in the first place, the influences of time upon his voice only intensifies the hardscrabble emotion of his work. Do I think this is his best work? No, for me the album was good, but never quite delivered the emotional hook of Knight’s best works. That is not to say, Almost Daylight is not a quality album, though for me, the songs often fell just short of their potential. 

The album opens with “I’m William Callahan” and this is the type of song that Knight has made a career of -- A hard luck character digging for purchase in life. This track does not stray far from that though it does feel a bit more dependent on guitar melodies and arrangement to deliver the mood rather than the emotional imagery Knight has done so well cultivating in the past. 

Like weeds sprouting from a windblown crack of earth, “Crooked Mile” is song is about a couple of so-called bad seeds who will grow just fine, if only the world will leave them alone. The imagery is great and the song memorable, though in the end, I found myself wishing for more to their story. 

The third track is called “I Won’t Look Back,” and leaving the pain of the past is the theme. Just as the title states, the character plans to leave without looking back. The writing is sharp and feels like vintage Knight, which stands in contrast to the following track. “Go On” is as close to a motivational tale as you’re likely to find from Knight, and though it toes the line the track stays just shy of sappiness in the chorus.  

These are indeed divided times we live but even with that fact at hand, the fifth track on the album seemed oddly out of character. Knight has used his talent as a songwriter to often uncover commonalities among us. Dark and light, these collective truths of humanity are delivered from his brand of storytelling as delivered by the downtrodden and fallen. There is no denying the world we live is full of lies these days, and yes, that is the “The Damn Truth,” just as Knight sings. However, it is impossible see truth when viewing the world with only our right, or left eye. This track didn’t offer any real truths, only more divisive political pandering in a society already ripe with too much of that.

The album gets back on track with “Send It On Down” featuring Lee Ann Womack. This is the tale of a man lost in his hometown. A place he doesn’t quite fit in anymore. If in fact, he ever did. 

Anyone that has ever had a long hard night of too much thinking and wondering has sought the solace of daybreak, hoping for the sun to chase away the demons of the night. The title track plays with that idea as well as life on the road and the importance of having someone waiting back home. While it did take me a few listens to get the full effect of these lyrics, ”Almost Daylight” is easily the best song among the eleven. Nuanced and complex, this is a set of lyrics that will mean many things to many different people. It is this kind of writing and nod to universal emotion that has made Knight one of the best songwriters going for over two decades. 

“Trouble Up Ahead” is classic Chris Knight tale of doom, despair, and desperation. You can feel the Kentucky sweat on the back of your neck, and the grit on your teeth after listening to this track. The harmonica on “Everybody’s Lonely Now” adds to the melody which for Knight is almost upbeat. 

Chris Knight is not a man who does many covers, but his take of Johnny Cash’s “Flesh and Blood,” feels fresh and authentic. Knight does a great job of making the track feel as if it is one of his own creations. For me, this is the second best cut on the album.

Closing with another cover, Knight joins yet again with John Prine on a version of the latter’s 1973 classic, “Mexican Home.” Together, Knight and Prine, make the strong imagery come alive as they transport the listener to a different time and place.

My takeaway is this … Almost Daylight is a solid album that will speak to longstanding Chris Knight fans, and deliver what they have come to expect while also presenting a few new variables to his writing. I am not sure the album will do much more than that, as it falls short of the high standards Knight has set in the past. Outside of the title track, I am not sure any of these cuts will be regarded among his best.

----------

Travis Erwin is a fiction writer, lyricist, and music critic. A native Texan, Travis now calls the West Coast home. His fiction can be found anywhere books are sold, and you can reach him on twitter @traviserwin or via comment on this post.

I Needed Ken Burns’ Country Music More Than I Realized

By Robert Dean

The sound of Hank Williams breaks my heart. Every time I hear him, something inside shatters, no matter how happy or sad. His ghost haunts me. When I die, I hope my friends and family surround the jukebox, drunk, and sing along to “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry," which, to me, is the world's most perfect song. 

From heartache to the silence of the lost night, with the bottle in your hand, country music has a song for all of us – saints and sinners alike. If someone has stepped on your heart or made you fall in love with a bat of an eye, it's all there in the aural roux that was forged across the American landscape all those years ago. 

After binge-watching Ken Burns epic 16-hour Country Music documentary, I felt a sense of wholeness again, something that I'd been missing for a hot minute lately. To say the documentary affected me would be putting it lightly, at different times, I got choked up, laughed at stupid jokes and was thrown back into a well of youth I hadn't thought about in a long time. Seeing the Carter Family, The Judds, Buck Owens, and George Strait the memories of riding around on the back roads in Arkansas, swerving through pothole ridden streets in Chicago in my Grammie's 1994 Honda Accord, or just passing through my parent's garage as my dad wrenched on his Harley.   

I was excited for the event, I’d marked in my phone as something I needed to watch, but I never anticipated the emotional impact the series would have on me. Lately, my life has been a hurricane and this body of work felt familiar, something to cling onto. 

Despite knowing a major chunk of the music’s history, there was much to gush over, to fall in love all over again. It had been years since I listened to Roy Acuff, or looked up those Little Jimmy Dickens deep cuts. I forgot that when my grandfather died, we played Vince Gill’s “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” a song I generally avoid due to its absolute soul crushing beauty and sadness. 

Our parents raised us on the riffs of Black Sabbath, the ache of Muddy Waters, the twang of the Allman Brothers, and honesty of Willie Nelson. Growing up, we knew Conway Twitty just as well as the Black Crowes, and you best believe the jukebox in my grandparent's basement had some "Tulsa Time" by Don Williams. Despite being raised in Chicago, a significant portion of my family was southern, so I'd always had a foot in both worlds. My grandfather was from Bradford, Arkansas, while my Uncle Bruce and cousins lived on top of a mountain just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. The static of a radio moving down the dial, finding some Dwight Yoakam in the middle of the night while rolling through quiet town on the way to visit family is a memory scorched.

But then I discovered my own music. I liked rock and roll, grunge, and metal. I liked the honesty of Nirvana and Social Distortion, the rage of Pantera, and piling on to strangers in the middle of a hardcore pit, screaming my lungs out. That was my identity. I left country music behind, I was a kid from an urban area, how could I relate to country music, something my friends would never understand?

It took Hank Williams to break everything down, to make me feel small.

Around 20, I was cruising down a back road, listening to NPR, when a story came on about Hank, and it floored me. Everything I'd known about country music came back, but like a sledgehammer to the guts, it shattered the perceptions like a bad mirror. This wasn't the gross pop country of the day like Shania Twain, this was brutal, honest, and real. Hearing that voice, that song was as emotionally bellicose as anything Kurt Cobain howled about. 

Immediately, I raced to the computer, downloading everything off Limewire. I went to Borders and bought the biography of Hank and a "Best of" collection. From that moment on, I was rechristened back into the church of Hank, Cash, Willie, Waylon, Possum, and Merle. I didn't give a shit if my friends didn't understand the music.

I was well on my path to diving deep into the artists, even my parents or grandparents didn't know. I wanted to learn as much as I could about Americana, bluegrass, and everything that wasn't flashy jeans or anything remotely pop. 

Country music has always had an in-fighting relationship toward itself considering guys like Townes Van Zandt and Porter Wagoner were around at the same time, but so were Johnny Cash and the Outlaws who finally found their voices in the 1970s. Country Music, tapped into a hundred-year history over 16 hours, and sure plenty of notable acts were left out, but you can't please everyone all of the time. (David Allan Coe is a racist piece of shit and doesn't deserve to be mentioned, no matter how many good songs he has.) I would have been cool to at least see a nod to Johnny Paycheck, if only for his story. 

While yes, the overbearing "Nashville sound" did begin to take shape in the late 1950s with its lush strings and pleasant tones, there was still darkness percolating on the edges of the music.

Country Music tapped into my childhood, hearing songs from the Jimmie Rogers and the Carter Family, seeing footage of depression-era families surrounded by a Victrola, listening to the newest "hillbilly" recordings, made something I’d forgotten about inside my skeletal cage swell. I own my great-grandparents shellac records. My grandfather wanted me to have them before he died. Watching that footage, seeing the sinners baptized into the rivers of life, it all felt like a homecoming. What Ken Burns tapped into for a lot of people, not just me was giving the music, a sense of family, of purpose as a soundtrack to our memories. I dug those records out from the cardboard box I’ve kept them and looked at the worn labels from the 1930s and early 1940s - my tastes decades later aren’t too far off from people I know very little about other than I belong to them.

But without a doubt, the two figures who loomed over the entire documentary were Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, two men steeped in a cloud of bleakness most of us will never understand. Cash might have made it for many years longer than ole' Hank, but he never lost his edge. Instead of appealing to new country music sensibilities, he converted millions of new listeners in the twilight of his career with a series of stripped-down recordings with Rick Rubin for the American Recordings.

Willie was there, and so were his four walls that Faron Young made famous. We learned about the tragic death of Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn's powerful message of individuality and freedom against the industry's wishes. Emmylou Harris got her due, as well as Bill Monroe and Flatt and Scruggs. Looking back at some of the themes present throughout the documentary, it’s crystal clear that Lorretta Lynn is not a woman you mess with.

Dolly whips out this breakneck version of "Mule Skinner Blues" and it kills. There’s the saga of George and Tammy, drinking and fighting till their dying days. Charlie Pride, Kitty Owens, Ricky Skaggs, and Kathy Mattea all chime in on their experiences in Nashville, at the Opry and why the Ryman is the Mother Church. Who knew Carlene Carter was so magnetic on television, while Marty Stewart stole the show with his critical insight into the culture and the history and the music. 

Seeing the music come to life, hearing Dolly Parton wail out those hits, reminded me that she was my first crush, that I was into Garth Brooks at the same time I liked Nirvana after spending a summer in Arkansas with my grandparents. When I got back to Chicago, I promptly hid my cassette of Ropin' The Wind. 

According to the news, a ton of people are discovering the roots of country music, which is a good thing. When you're a die-hard fan of country music it gets exhausting having the same conversation over and over again with people, "I like Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings but hate the new poppy stuff." 

Trust me, there are two schools of thought when it comes to this: it's very much an us vs. them situation. Once you dig deep and grab those Bill Monroe records out of the dollar bin, you'll discover the Louvin Brothers and so on. There are a ton of current artists like Sturgill Simpson, Chris Stapleton, and Tyler Childers out there making the big noise, while smaller artists are carving up names for themselves in the honky tonks and bars everywhere. They're swinging, grooving and channeling those ghosts of old. Those are my people. 

One of the best stories about country music was back in the heyday of Bebop Jazz, Charlie Parker was standing in front of a jukebox pumping in nickels, playing Hank Williams and Roy Acuff. When one of his fellow musicians asked him what he saw in the music, he replied, "it's the stories, man."

Sometimes, we all need to wrap our arms around the ghosts of the past, no matter how painful or sweet. There's a lot of love in those sepia tones, but also the technicolor of today, too. Charley Pride, Ray Charles, and all of those old school blues musicians have their fingerprints on the success and soul of the music and it was only right to see that they were given their due.

While rock and roll was lost in it’s own bullshit, country music moved on its own axis.

Waylon was punk rock, defying a genre, asking his peers, "Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way" while Jeannie C. Riley's "Harper Valley PTA" and Kitty Wells "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" shoved it right back to the men who treated so many women like second-class citizens. "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" acts as a conduit between worlds, emotions, and generations, showing that a song about death can connect us all, no matter who's singing it.  

And of course, my favorite song of all time, Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" stands as some of the most exquisite poetry the genre ever produced. For almost two decades, I've been chasing after a man that's been dead for sixty-six years. I even have his face tattooed on my left wrist. 

Now, at thirty-eight, my cowboy boots are scuffed and worn. I've lived in the south for over a decade, and the obsession with the music hasn't changed. I'm thankful Ken Burns came along and gave us this newest masterpiece dedicated to one of the most significant American art forms. Now, it should be our mission to spread the word of all of these new musicians and move them into the collective conscious to be front and center, where they deserve to be. 

A Sixth Sense Country Meme

Country TwitterFAIL: Sept. '19

*foul language below*