Sam Morrow has invited favorable comparisons to Little Feat and Lynyrd Skynyrd – rightfully so and for the very best reasons. In “Money Ain’t A Thing,” (heard only here at FTM) he captures a ballsy everyman ethos that’s the mirror image of “Workin’ For MCA.”
"'Money' is a song that reminds me of what’s important through all the distractions or stresses we get fed on a daily basis,” Morrow says. “Whether it’s the expectation to look a certain way or something you need to buy, it’s important for me to constantly remind myself that I don’t need those things.”
His forthcoming album, Gettin’ By On Gettin’ Down, drops October 30. Keep it here for updates; it’s one of the best American rock, rhythm & blues records in a while. The dude jams. “All I need’s my guitar and my sh*t-kickin’ band,” indeed.
August 4, 2020 - Sam Morrow will release his new album Gettin' By on Gettin' Down October 30th via Forty Below Records. It’s a modern album that revisits — and reshapes — the primordial sounds of hip-shaking rock & roll. These nine songs are rooted in grease, grit, and groove, from the swampy soul of "Round 'N Round" to the funky syncopation of "Rosarita" to the hook-laden rock of "Money Ain't a Thing." There's hardly an acoustic guitar in sight; instead, amplifiers and guitar pedals rule the roost, with everything driven forward by percussive rhythms that owe as much to R&B as country music. Written and recorded in the wake of the tour for Morrow’s breakout record Concrete & Mud, Gettin' By on Gettin' Down doubles down on the electrified fire and fury of Morrow's live shows, with a road-ready band joining him on every song.
"My favorite rock & roll is the stuff that has groove to it," says Morrow, a native Texan who kickstarted his music career after moving to Los Angeles, where he's since become one of the city's biggest roots-music exports. "I want to make music like that — funky, layered rock where it's not just the songwriting that's important, but the presentation, too."
To find the right presentation, Morrow turned to drummer Matt Tecu, whose versatility as a percussionist had landed him a spot in the documentary Echo in the Canyon, backing up West Coast icons like Jakob Dylan, Brian Wilson and Neil Young. The two had spent months on the road together, touring their way from coast to coast, steadily growing Morrow's sound into something that nodded to — but was no longer defined by — the country music he'd grown up with. Looking to funnel the spirit of those concerts into a studio recording, Morrow asked Tecu to send him a series of drum beats, which the frontman then turned into songs with help from co-producer Eric Corne. The grooves served as building blocks for the music that followed, anchoring Gettin' By on Gettin' Down in a rhythmic, full-bodied sound whose mix of country, rock, and funk influences nodded to Morrow's genre-bending heroes: Little Feat, Los Lobos, Queens of the Stone Age, and even David Bowie.
While recording the album at an L.A.-area studio owned by The Doors' guitarist Robby Krieger, Morrow and Corne embraced their experimental side, focusing on layered arrangements that were as unique as the songs themselves. They added a T. Rex-worthy, fuzz-rock riff to the title track. They punctuated "Rosarita" with a slide guitar wrapped in wah-wah wooziness. They filled "Round 'N Round" with blue notes and swung swagger. Over six days, they pieced together the Gettin' By on Gettin' Down tracklist, with help from guest musicians like guitarist Doug Pettibone and bassist Taras Prodaniuk, both veterans of Lucinda Williams' band. The result is a record that builds a bridge between Morrow's command as a frontman and bandleader — a record, in other words, that pairs sharply-written insight from a songwriter at the top of his game with the raw, rocking slash-and-burn of a band stocked with roots-music heavyweights.
Morrow’s 2018 album Concrete & Mud was a true breakout, earning critical praise and radio success. Vice called Morrow “LA’s young prince of unabashed Country gold,” KCRW declared “Sam Morrow's third album cements his place as a member of LA’s Country elite,” and Rolling Stone said “Concrete And Mud’s vibe is less sunshine and palm trees and more in line with the hard surfaces and grit of it’s album title…Morrow pairs his brawny voice and tales of life at the margins with brittle funk grooves and greasy slide guitar licks." The album made it into the top 10 at Americana radio, album standout “Quick Fix” was featured on Showtime’s hit show Billions, and Morrow toured relentlessly in support of the record in both the U.S. and Europe. NPR Music said Morrow’s 2018 AmericanaFest set was one of the festivals “most anticipated,” going on to say “If you're a fan of Little Feat, Tony Joe White and classic Lynyrd Skynyrd, then Sam Morrow has it all for you: He's the essence of Americana, blending together diverse styles of roots music, and his showcase set at The Local more than delivered on the anticipation for it.”
Skylar Gregg engages in a gripping cocktail of hard work, humor, and self-discovery, expressing vivid lyrical imagery and raw grit that soaks into every note of her songwriting. Her third album, Roses, is the culmination of a decade of refinement and refocus wherein she realized “Complicated isn’t always better. Sometimes a simple message can really resonate.”
Blessed with a powerful, soulful voice and a musical pedigree – her folks moved to Nashville so dad could pursue songwriting while mom studied piano at Belmont University – Gregg turned toward a musical career of her own in midstream at Middle Tennessee State. “I changed my major from music education to songwriting in the while I was in college,” she says. “That was when I figured out what I wanted to do.”
The ten songs on Roses – one for each year of the process that got them to completion – tackle heady issues from mortality to addiction to abuse, yet with an undercurrent of contentment; the album closes with the self-evidently peaceful “Everything’s Gonna Be Fine.”
Gregg is thoughtful and sincere – often pondering questions with an emphatic Oh, Man! – and has an infectious laugh as intense as her booming, brassy vocals. In Roses, she establishes herself as a top-tier songwriter on an upward trajectory. We enjoyed chatting with her about the songwriting process, Landfills – literal and metaphorical – Man-splaining, and legalization of the Devil’s lettuce.
Roses is an album of ten songs you wrote over roughly a decade. During that time you put a couple of records out. Over the ten years of writing these, was there something in the back of your mind telling you to hold them back for a while? Were you putting them into a sort of “box” for later use?
Yeah, I think that was what kind of happened. A lot of them I finished later – I’d started them a long time ago. One of them I used to play with a different band, then brought it into my own catalog. So, yeah, I did hold back; I’d think, “Yeah, I’ll tighten this one up a little down the road, when I know what it’s about and know where to put it.”
I wouldn’t call this a purely country album, though there are some straight-up country tunes on it. The PR materials mention hints of the Muscle Shoals sound; I hear a decidedly Memphis vibe at various points. Was there a particular feel or sonic theme you were going for?
You know, originally I set out to make a country album. The producer I used, I think, felt a Muscle Shoals vibe in a lot of the songs and in my voice. And then my husband – who plays bass on the record – is from Memphis. [Laughs] So you hit the nail on the head there. That’s probably the combination that you’re hearing – the influences of those two guys. And I think that gave us some edge, some life, too. Made it a little bit different, you know?
There are times when your voice reminds me of Bonnie Bramblett of Delaney and Bonnie; that big, full, blue-eyed soul sound. Who are some of the female vocalists who’ve been influential to you?
A lot of the sixties and seventies country ladies, like Tanya Tucker and Dolly Parton. I listened to a lot of that with my dad growing up. Bobbie Gentry is somebody I really love, with her soulful, country voice. I was also really influenced by soul artists – I think we all were. Aretha Franklin and Etta James, ladies with those really big voices. And I think that’s the combination you end up with. Also a little bit of gospel; I grew up singing in church.
Something told me you weren’t a stranger to church choir.
Yeah, for sure.
Collecting songs over ten years for an album implies – to me, anyway – that re-working and editing are a big part of the way you write. Can you discuss the way you approach songwriting? For instance, do you set aside a regular block of time for writing, or just grab a pen when an idea or image or phrase strikes you?
I have a block of time every morning when I get up that I dedicate to writing. I try to spend at least a few minutes with my guitar, to try to put together a chorus, for example. I don’t want to force anything, but I try to at least work those muscles in my brain. And sometimes in those moments I’ll hit on something and write it down, and work on it the next day. And sometimes those songs will come out great. But honestly, it’s those times when I’m out in the world and am moved by something, or think something’s funny or interesting…when I get home at midnight or one in the morning and sit on the couch and write those songs? Those are the ones that always end up sticking around, for me.
Let’s talk about a few specific songs on Roses. I have the advantage of your liner notes, so I’m cheating a little bit. “I Already Know…” Would you like to woman-splain that one? The floor is yours.
[Laughs] Yeah, sure. I was, I guess, just bitchin’ with some of my female musician friends about being man-splained to about cables and guitar stuff. This was at a co-write, and these are both very talented players; to hear them also be frustrated about it…they had learned to say in a nice way, “Save your breath, I already know.” They’ve toured all over the country and played hundreds and hundreds of gigs, but they still have sound men come up and say these things.
I’ve had those experiences as well, in co-writes. You get treated like, “You’re the singer. We’re gonna write this song for you and you can sing it in a minute.”
Ha!
I’d like to add that I get to work with a lot of men -- and have been raised by a lot of men – who have only empowered me and only been loving to me. The song is just talking about men who may sometimes have a moment of…proving themselves, I guess, in those situations.
“Now, where do I plug this cord in?”
[Laughs] Yeah! “Does the round shape go in the round hole?” [Laughs]
“Southern Strain” is about the stigma attached to Mary Jane in our native South. Was there anything in particular that inspired this, like maybe a string of shows in Colorado? And which Southern state do you think will be the first to legalize?
[Laughs] Man! I hope it’s Tennessee! You know, I guess I just I grew up thinking that it’s no worse than alcohol. Everything in moderation, right? I’m not saying do this all the time, but it is interesting how many people – later on in life – you find out don’t have as big a problem with that stuff as you thought they did. There’s such a stigma about it, especially when I was a little kid and thought it was the Devil’s lettuce. Later I realized it’s just not that big a deal, and if somebody want to have a joint after work, we shouldn’t worry about it. Especially these days; there’s way bigger stuff to worry about. [Laughs]
For sure.
“Landfill” is both metaphorical and autobiographical, it seems to me. (And what a sweet horn arrangement!) Did that song morph into something else during the writing process?
Totally. That one was really challenging to write. It’s my favorite song on the record. I love how it turned out; it’s so quirky and I love all the thoughts behind it.
I went to Middle Tennessee State University for college, and 231 is the road that goes from Murphreesboro to where my parents live in Lebanon, Tenn. And there’s this landfill on 231 that I used to drive by, and it was amazing to think about how much trash is in the ground there. It’s insane to me how we’ve figured out how to get rid of our garbage, and so much of it, you know? And I thought it would be a cool song to write, about the landfill and all those visualizations. So I pretty much wrote all the verses while I was in college, driving past it back and forth.
And then about two years ago I started going to therapy. (I don’t know if you’ve been to therapy, but I highly recommend it for everyone.) Anyway, before you go in, they vet you over the phone. And I was telling her, “There’s not really anything wrong with me. I don’t have any trauma; no big issues, I just kind of wanted to check up on my brain and make sure I’m doing okay.” And she was like, “Mm-hmm, okay.” And I got in there and there was a whole lot of stuff to dig up! And she said, “Yeah, everybody says that when I call them.” [Laughs] And through that experience I wrote the choruses, because man, what a metaphor that was for all the garbage in my own brain. And so seven or eight years later, that song got finished.
Go Blue Raiders, by the way. What did you study?
I studied songwriting.
Look at you, putting your degree to work!
Yeah! I really enjoyed my experience in the Recording Industry program there.
If you could change one thing about the music industry right now, what would it be?
Oh, man….
You could outlaw autotune…You could deport Florida-Georgia Line…
[Laughs] Yes, yes! There’s so many things. I’m really enjoying watching the music industry, which got turned on its head when streaming came into play, then it got turned on its head again with COVID-19. Not that I’m celebrating anyone’s gigs getting canceled, obviously. I do think it’s cool the way streaming services and Spotify have given indie artists a voice. And you can really build a small, blue-collar career almost by yourself. I didn’t experience the music industry pre-streaming, but I assume that wasn’t the case then. And being able to record stuff yourself or with a very small team is awesome.
As far as what I’d change now – and I think we’re doing a really good job of lifting this up – maybe just some more female representation? More female players maybe. And we’re seeing a real push for it, and I’m excited to see who else is gonna come up.
Now, you got a heads-up on this one: If you were told you could only listen to three albums for the rest of your life, what would they be?
Ah, man, this was really challenging. [Laughs] Of course there’s all those classics like Abbey Road and Dark Side of the Moon and Rumors that are so hard to get rid of. But for me, my first album was a John Denver record my dad got for me called Poems, Prayers & Promises which has “Take Me Home, Country Roads” on it. And because it was my first CD and first CD player, I just listened to it so many times. And I hadn’t even thought about it until you texted me that question, but you can probably hear it in my writing.
And the second one I came up with was Bobbie Gentry’s Ode To Billy Joe. And I didn’t really discover it until I right out of high school when I did this country music revue show called “Honkytonk Angels” at an arts center in Cannon County, Tenn. I got to sing songs like “Fancy” and “I Will Always Love You,” and I sang “Ode To Billy Joe,” and thought this song is so cool! So I listened to the whole album, and it’s got all this weird percussion on it. It’s just really cool.
And the third one and more recently, I’m a huge Sturgill Simpson fan. I had tickets to his last show and was super-bummed that I couldn’t go, even though I realize this is the time we’re living in. Meta Modern Sounds In Country Music is just so great. I listen to it all the time. That album is so fun and so great.
Photo by Zach Ward
Lots of artists’ album release dates have been pushed back – some indefinitely – by this dang virus. How has it affected you in particular? Also what’s your best-case, yet realistic, scenario for getting this record out and doing a tour?
I’ve really focused my attention on getting the record out first. And hopefully after that we can re-asses when touring will start. It’s just so hard to tell. It’s interesting, though, watching how COVID has affected a lot of the bigger players in the game, releasing music for indie artists has been it’s been kind of a great time because it’s made a space for me and a lot of my friends. Live streaming shows has been really cool.
We were fortunate enough to have the exclusive premiere of your video in July. I’ve been on some movie sets before, so I know a little bit about all the different takes that all the set-ups require. But I’m just curious…do you lip-sync everything?
I was actually singing, because they told me before, “It looks better if you actually sing it.” So yeah, I’m sure they were tired of hearing me sing that song by the end of the day. [Laughs] I sang it like 50 times.
Really?
Maybe not 50; it was at least 25 times though. [Laughs] They’re used to it though; they do music videos all the time.
Was that your first video?
I’ve actually done a few. We actually did this one around Halloween a few years ago. It was for this song I wrote that was about a black widow – a lady who kept killing all of her husbands.
Mmm-hmm?
…for different reasons. So we did this video. My cousin is a special-effects makeup artist, and she came to do all the makeup for it. And it got so out of control! It was so gory! Facebook wouldn’t even let us run an ad in it. [Laughs]
Well, I have to see this thing now.
I think it’s really fun. I love the Evil Dead-type of ridiculous horror. I think it’s a lot of fun, but a lot of people don’t share that opinion! [Laughs]
From her forthcoming album, Roses. Gregg, on the intensely personal nature of this poignant song:
All of my grandparents died of dementia and Alzheimer’s. I remember thinking when I was young it would be an easy way to go, to just slowly forget. After I met my husband, I realized that would not be the case. That it may be the hardest. Mando Saenz and I wrote "Have You Ever Tried to Lose Your Mind" about remembering to hang on to every moment as hard as you can because you may not get to keep all the memories. Corey Pitts really brought the song to life in this video. Even in a socially distanced environment and a one person cast with very little experience in front of the camera (me) he was able to dig into the meaning of this unusual love song and I think it turned out beautifully.
FTM readers get an exclusive look at the video today. Tomorrow, she’ll take over the “Women of Americana” Instagram account, which you can check out here.
Roses will be released on Friday, August 14.On Monday, August 10, we’ll post our in-depth interview with this talented singer-songwriter.
More information about Skylar below!
Skylar Gregg engages in a gripping cocktail of hard work, humor, and self-discovery, expressing vivid lyrical imagery and raw grit that soaks into every note of her songwriting. The Nashville native musician translates that into a mixed bag of retro southern music immersed in old soul, 60’s and 70’s country and blues.
Gregg’s sound stems from being raised around musicians. Her family moved to Nashville to pursue music careers - her dad as a songwriter and her mom as a piano major at Belmont University. Their influence led to Gregg performing at the age of 6. During her early college years she joined her first real band. In 2013, she started pursuing her own path as a songwriter, which included the release of two records, Walkin’ in The Woods (2015) and Time Machine (2018). Both were self-produced and recorded with her husband, Taylor Lonardo, in their home studio. On her upcoming record, Roses, she elevates her homegrown roots by enlisting producer Jon Estes, whose contributions on stage and in the studio have included John Paul White, Steelism, Robyn Hitchcock, Langhorne Slim, and Andrew Leahey.
Exuding a Muscle Shoals meets Nashville vibe, the upcoming album compiles stories spanning Gregg’s life over the past decade. Gregg says, “I think I have spent the past ten years learning who I am. And by proxy who my artist is. And that discovery has been my biggest life lesson. This record is the realest I have ever been.”
Some of the songs were written at the start of the ten-year journey and some were written in the studio as late as 2019. When songs take a multi-year journey, it’s inevitable that growth will follow: both in the songwriting and the subject matter itself.The first single, “Long Way Back,” which is also the oldest on the record captures a snapshot in time - a plea from Gregg for her brother to find himself.
And then there are songs like “Landfill” which almost grow with her. A song inspired by driving past a landfill, the song serves as a reminder to recycle, and about how much garbage we make as humans, both literally and metaphorically. Two years ago Gregg started therapy which led her to know what the song was really supposed to be about. She says, “As southern people, or maybe just people, in general, we tend to really pack our troubles down and keep marching on. I thought that was a sign of strength. But in reality, it was making me weak. I had become a giant pile of trash. I was indeed a Landfill.”
Songs written in the middle of this ten-year stretch revolve around themes of addiction, mortality, and abuse. A folkloric tale co-written by Alexis Thompson about “The Bell Witch” explores the story of a witch that lives in a cave in Adams, TN on a property that once belonged to John Adams. The story goes that Adams’ family would show up in town and have bruises and cuts all over them. And John would say “ We have a witch in our house!”. Thompson and Gregg revisited the story giving it a Jordan Peele type twist where John was actually the assaulter.
The final song in the chronology, “Everythings Gonna Be Fine” showcases Gregg’s more peaceful state of mind. A song she wrote in the studio, it’s a reminder to chill out and to not worry so much.
Gregg’s evolution as a songwriter expresses itself in an interesting dichotomy. She says, “It is interesting looking at these songs compiled together in a timeline. My own writing seems to get increasingly more complicated and then simple again. Maybe that is something I have learned about music over the last decade. Complicated isn’t always better. Sometimes a simple message can really resonate.”
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.
In an age when independence is idolized and every person seems to be seeking his own lone wolf career path, Seattle-based roots band Western Centuries believes that the way forward is better together. Collaboration, inspiration and mutual admiration are what Cahalen Morrison, Ethan Lawton, and Jim Miller cite as the heart of their newest project, Call The Captain, the band’s third album, out on Free Dirt records and available wherever you purchase fine music. You can also find it at the Western Centuries store.
Western Centuries continue to evolve and mature. After two critically acclaimed albums – 2016’s Weight of the World and 2018’s Songs From The Deluge – the band’s follow-up features a new sound, a slightly tweaked lineup and a new level of songwriting prowess. Morrison and Lawton still take turns on drums and acoustic guitar. Thomas Bryan Eaton joins the band on pedal steel. But the core of the band is still the troika of writers/singers, each member of which brings his own distinctive skill set.
Morrison’s tracks have a Western feel and flavor. Lawton’s sweet, near falsetto vocals provide a soulful undercurrent. Miller spent 20 years with roots/jam band Donna The Buffalo and never wrote or sang a song. His growth as a writer and ongoing vocal confidence continue to impress.
Western Centuries tackle several complex and controversial issues on the new album – pipelines through Indian reservations and land-grant battles in New Mexico in the 1960s and 1970s to name a couple – but do so without preachy condescension. The topical issues don’t overshadow what the band has come to be known for: elite writing, poignant three-part harmonies and excellent musicianship and production.
It was great to catch up with Jim Miller, PhD – FTM’s official lepidopterist* -- right after his much-needed vacation in mid-March. He was quite expansive on that subject, as well as those of meeting Jim Lauderdale at the place Dylan went electric, and the non-need for a captain on a ship of titans.
So, how was your vacation?
It was…good. We went to a Wilco show.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Cool.
There’s an egalitarian feel to this album, a real sense of balance. Twelve songs, four each by you, Ethan and Cahalen. In fact, they go in that order throughout the record: one from you, one from Ethan, one from Cahalen. Tell me about the mechanism of selecting tracks; I assume each of you comes into the recording process with his own batch of songs?
We do. And for this batch, we had toured with [playing] a lot of them; some of we had played on tour just a little. And some we had never played live, we just had a pretty good idea of how they’d go and worked it out in the studio. We do come [into the studio] with a pretty good feel, yet are open to any suggestions the other guys have when it’s time to record.
When you write a song you never know how it will sound with a band, unless you’ve played it with a band already. So you need to have some flexibility: “It might sound better with a chorus there,” or “a bridge might work here.” Or you add an intro that you just hadn’t thought of. That stuff just kind of evolves; you know what I mean?
Yeah. Is “Call The Captain” an ironic nod to the collaborative nature of y’all’s dynamic?
It is, because we feel we’re a ship without a captain; we’re out at sea with three guys and the rest of the band as well. We don’t have a real front man, so there’s no one guy in charge. It’s also a line in one of Ethan’s songs [“Every Time It’s Raining”].
Y’all recorded Songs From The Deluge in Lafayette, and there was a discernable Zydeco feel on certain tracks. For Call The Captain, you chose a studio in Nashville. There’s a distinctive sonic difference, though I wouldn’t necessarily call it the “Nashville sound.” There’s a soulful vibe to a lot of it. What were y’all going for in terms of sound, or feel?
I’m…I’m not…(pause) I’m the wrong person to ask that.
When I’m in the studio – and I’ve been in lots of settings, all kinds of settings – it depends on what you’re going for. Do you want an acoustic record or a rocking record? I’ve done all those things over the years. But I really don’t go into a studio setting with a firm idea about “the sound I’m looking for.”
Cahalen and Ethan, I’d say, have more of a set idea in mind. I’d say it’s like I have the least, Cahalen’s in the middle, and Ethan the most idea – pre-studio – of what we have in mind. Each person has a different approach when it comes to the recording process. And I’m the loosest of the three. I’m maybe…not as perceptive sometimes. I don’t always hear subtle differences. I just know what I like and what I don’t. But again, you’re talking to one of three writers. And each person has his different way of perceiving that. Which makes it fun, actually. It’s the fun part of this experiment we have, and in the studio it becomes very apparent, these differences in personality at play.
I just want the groove to sound good and the vocals to sound good. That’s what I’m going for.
You know in terms of and overall sound, though, this is Nokosee’s first time playing electric bass in studio. The first two records he played standup bass. So this opened up all kinds of tonality options for him and us. It makes the songs – for me – well, you have a broader base to work from, a broader pallet. Because a lot of people don’t hear the bass, but it’s the grounding of the whole sound.
So that was a big thing, I guess. Bill Reynolds, one of our producers, is a bass player. He had a vision for the bass parts. So that’s probably a lot of what you’re hearing in terms of a tonal difference. And that’s something that gave us all some confidence along the way.
Makes sense.
“Heartbroke Syndrome” was the first single released from the new record, a song about someone who’s been through a crushing personal loss. You dealt with the loss of your parents in the final stanzas of “Wild Birds” on the last album.
Correct.
I wonder if you’d elaborate a little on the story behind “Heartbroke.”
Ah…it’s a little…a little hard. It’s a friend of mine whom I’ve known…40 years? Anyway, she’s my age-ish. And she had a granddaughter die at 2 ½. Just overnight.
Oh, man.
Literally overnight, one of those things, and there was just no reason. I still think they don’t know the reason. This little girl just died in her sleep. It was one of those losses that was so huge for my friend…her body didn’t respond for a while and she ended up in the hospital. She was so shattered. And that’s how that song came about.
It’s a song that’s hard to write. And I tried…I tried to end with an uplifting feeling.
Yeah.
Sort of, we’ve got each other, we’ll get through this together.
“But everything will flow right, we’ll gather back home. Lay down the dirt, our bodies renewed.”
Yeah. A semi-uplifting note, anyway.
There are several songs about heartbreak and loss, and some tragic – but not necessarily well-known – events. Would you say there’s a theme, or a common thread that ties the record together?
Hmm. It’s hard to find a common “theme” for the way we write our music, because we do so much of it in isolation. Those guys live in Seattle. I live in New York. So we only see each other when we’re going out on tour, or recording, or other special events or whatever.
There’s no intention, I’d say, in creating a thread. If there is one, I’d say it’s the times we’re living in. That’s such an overwhelming part; you can’t really get away from it. And I think that’s partly what you’re sensing. I have these “topical” songs. I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it…
Oh, we’re gonna get to that, in just a second, I promise.
Ha ha. But Cahalen did, too and Ethan did, too. We all did. But I attribute that to the crazy f*cking times we’re living in.
Y’all touch on some heady issues in your songs this time around: social/cultural, religious and political. I know this because of the detailed liner notes. What’s cool about it, in my opinion – and as someone who probably doesn’t share a lot of the same views – is that…Ihad to read the liner notes to get the full depth of it. There’s a level of nuance and subtlety that a lot of artists forsake these days, in favor of a skillet-to-the-face approach. (Other than “Space Force.” You don’t really hide the ball on that one.)
Well, the three of us really like that. Because the subtlety of the songs makes you have to listen to them a few more times. You’re not necessarily going to get it the first time around. And I think that’s cool.
It’s very cool. I’m just wondering if the nuance is a byproduct of the quality of the songwriting, or if there’s ever an intra-band discussion about the need for subtlety. You know, “Maybe we don’t need to hit people over the head with this?” Or is it more of an organic thing?
I guess it’s more organic. It’s more organic. And I think the music we all listen to has more of a subtle message. And our music comes out that way because that’s what we listen to. The stuff that smacks you in the face, it doesn’t last very long. Some songs, you may have a heck of an impact in the short term, but those songs don’t hang around very long. And all of us have quite an appreciation for music that’s been around for quite a long time. So that’s the hope.
Except for “Space Force.” I like that one because I hope it will be gone soon. Hopefully, we’ll never have to play it again, you know?
We’re getting to “Space Force” here directly.
Ha. But you know what I mean? Your favorite music, it doesn’t matter when it was written or what it’s about! You just know that there’s some emotion in it that you’re drawn to. And it could have been written in 1963 or 2013. It doesn’t matter. And that kind of approach, I’d say we emulate.
Topical, but not exactly temporal?
Exactly. I like it.
Let’s talk about “Space Force,” my favorite track. Jim Lauderdale sings harmony, then lead on the final verse – in addition to singing harmony on “Heartbroke Syndrome.” What’s the connection between you and Jim?
Many years ago when I was in Donna The Buffalo, we had played the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island. He was on tour with Lucinda [Williams] for the Car Wheels record. And we were there just drinking vodka from the bottle and throwing a Frisbee, and Jim walked over and said, “Who are you people?” [Laughs] And somehow or another he just latched onto us. Out of that grew a friendship, and I’ve been friends with him throughout.
That song is funny because after I’d written it I thought, “This sounds like a song Jim Lauderdale could have written.
Yeah.
And so as we were recording it I got the idea of calling him up and saying, “What do you think about maybe singing on it?”
He had never heard it before. But Jim is like super-pro studio guy. He’s unbelievable. He shows up, hears it three times, you hand him the lyrics, and he does his part. You’re like, “That’s very convincing!” [Laughs]
Well, we’re trying. We need to do that. You know, those shows are harder to get on than you would imagine. Even though we know them, it’s weird. I think that show is done out of Buddy’s home studio.
Uh-huh.
And Buddy Miller, he doesn’t know us; he’s probably never heard of us. And Jim is doing so much stuff it’s unbelievable. So getting in to focus for something like that, as much as we’d love to do it, is difficult.
The concept of a “Space Force” is low-hanging fruit for a timely, satirical song, but it works like a charm. It’s cartoonish – I kept thinking of “Space Ghost.”
Yeah!
There are references to 2001’s Hal and Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” Did this song write itself? It sounds like it just poured out of you.
Yeah, it sort of did. If any of my songs on this album wrote itself, it was this one. And I don’t have songs like that. I wrote it in – what are we in, 2020? – yeah, I wrote it in 2019. And the concept of a Space Force – it’s such a joke. I’m like, “This isn’t even real.”
And I’ve become such a news junkie that when I read about it I say, “Space Force? What is the freaking job description for that?” So I started writing this thing down – and the other part about it is…Well, I was in Donna The Buffalo for a long time, and I liked the way that they wrote songs based on a chord progression that just keeps rolling. You know what I mean?
Oh, yeah.
So that was the other part of it. I wanted to write a song based on a chord progression that just keeps going and going and going, which is super- Donna The Buffalo-ish. So, those are the two things that came together. And the words just popped out. But it’s not a song, I think, that’s timeless or anything. But hopefully there won’t be an actual Space Force, and the song will just freaking go away!
But at least it jams.
It does jam, yes.
And it does sound like a Donna song, now that I think about it.
It does, and that’s cool. We’re not Donna, we’re Western Centuries, but we succeeded in turning a live song that jammed into a studio song that jams. The thing about Western Centuries is, we want to be a really good live band. And we’ve got a lot of room to grow in that regard. I think it’s a lot of fun to go see a band and not really know what’s going to happen. When I go see a band, I don’t want to see them play it like the record; I already have the record! That’s what’s fun about being risky.
*So, yeah, Dr. Miller is the only lepidopterist we know. Bet your blog doesn’t have one.
