Country Pocket

As Donald Trump transforms America with overwhelming backing from the Evangelical population, a new more tolerant voice in Christianity is gaining strength. Pope Leo is the most visible example, regularly preaching kindness toward immigrants and respect for democratic norms. As churches have been stormed by ICE, clergy are trying to preserve their sanctuaries. Reverends David Black and Jorge Bautista were shot in the face with chemical irritants while protesting ICE but continue to speak out. James Talrico, a minister himself, is running for Senate in Texas on a platform of biblical love. It’s not quite the majority of Christians in America, but their voices are growing louder and the progressive teachings of Jesus are seeing more press coverage than at any time in recent history. 

My latest guest, John Francis O’Mara, is both a musician and Episcopal priest. He’s been spreading that progressive message through rural Virginia to congregations that at times walk out on his homilies. His album features an image of a brown Mary on the cover. The “Forbidden Hymns” he writes are spiritual battle cries with a political edge.

“The zeitgeist and the horror and the xenophobia and the brutality and the cruelty largely is coming from a MAGA Christian white nationalist agenda,” said O’Mara. “What it’s doing for me is putting in stark terms as never before that my role as a Christian and a priest is to embody and do the things that demonstrate that there’s another kind of expression of Christian faith and justice. There’s another world full of people who are deeply troubled by what’s going on and moved to action. I’m one of those kind.”

“Walking in Babylon” captures the surreal feeling of being a Christian in a nation that justifies killing and persecution in the name of the Lord. Meanwhile, he’s focusing on building community and supporting the marginalized. “In the shadow where the empire spreads/Me and my brothers are breaking bread/It’s blue and white, but I’m seeing red/Democracy’, is that what you said?” O’Mara sings. 

“It’s making my job as a person who believes in justice and empathy and the dignity of every human person, the thing that Jesus and spiritual people have been proponents of, it makes my job easier in that I’m called to not cower,” said O’Mara. 

Is O’Mara a bit radical for a priest? Perhaps. Jesus was very much a radical in his time. O’Mara’s alarm at the situation in America and his desire to fight it is building. “There’s a holy fire inside of me/Hotter than the barrel of your gun,” sings O’Mara on “Mighty Power.” He sounds like a man ready to flip some tables.

“I’m called to be bold,” said O’Mara. “This is a time when people like myself who have a claim of believing the red letters, this novel idea that maybe he meant what he said, this is a time for us to be courageous.”

He’s not at all surprised that the administration is taking aim at protesters and creatives. 

“They have always feared the artists, especially the artists who have convictions and are willing to die for them,” said O’Mara. “More and more, I’m not pulling any punches. I believe that a better world is possible.” 

The album is much more than a collection of protest songs. O’Mara prays and converses with holy figures including the Blessed Mary. He laments the state of things and tries to draw strength from their spiritual relationship.

“I was born on the feast day of St. Juan Diego. He’s the Aztec peasant farmer who received the vision of Our Lady of Guadalupe, so I have a deep affinity for her,” said O’Mara. “Mary is an archetype of the divine feminine. Protector, nurturer, life giver, the womb of creativity. That feminine presence in our spirituality, our narratives, in our hierarchy, it’s still so unbalanced.”

O’Mara is trying hard to rebalance. He doesn’t have a set parish and often visits other churches that don’t have full time priests. He offers his congregants stern words and stands up for his principles. When a church invited him to lead a service that featured military fight songs, he told them to change the program or find someone else to preach it. 

“Celebrating the machines and mechanism of war is different than honoring soldiers, especially wounded soldiers or families of soldiers who died,” said O’Mara “I want to live in a world someday, and I believe it’s possible, that we won’t need those fight songs and we won’t have to go to funerals of dead soldiers because war will be no more. I firmly believe that’s possible. I have to. That’s the promise of the gospel: to let it be on Earth as it is in heaven.” 

O’Mara finds himself in a difficult position trying to share a different interpretation of the gospel than most American protestants are familiar with. At a time when many evangelical faith leaders openly support and even lay hands on Trump, O’Mara is trying to draw attention back to basics like ‘do unto others.’ 

“The heart of the gospel is love. It’s a universal and unconditional love,” said O’Mara. “And that includes the people in the pews. It requires of everyone to extend that same unconditional love, especially to those that are other than them.”

There are calls to action on forbidden hymns, at times quite explicit.

“Do you have the courage to share what you’ve been given?” sings O’Mara on “No One Gets Out Of Here Alive.”

“It’s an invitation to people listening to my record to take this shit personally,” said O’Mara. “It’s the beginning of the end of any society when the pain of others doesn’t register with the whole.”

Perhaps my presence in Europe inspired O’Mara to speak on the topic of emigrating, but he brought it up unprompted.

“I thought about leaving. My family got here two generations ago from Ireland. Sometimes when I have that imaginary or not so imaginary conversation with my ancestors, I imagine them assuring me that it’s okay to come home,” said O’Mara. “But at the same time, the disenfranchised and disinherited people of America, those are my allies, those are my kin. My intention is to make choices about who I spend my time with and my money for.” 

An idealist, O’Mara believes in bringing messages of anti-racism into even parishes that might be hostile to it. He’s perfectly content to preach through walkouts or groans and questions whether some congregants understand that coming to church is about more than spiritual affirmation and checking an attendance box. 

“I’m glad you’re in the building, but that’s not why you’re here,” said O’Mara, recounting the scenario. “We’re here to make a better world a reality.”

Still, O’Mara is at his most powerful when he’s earnestly praying for a better tomorrow on “Let It Be So.” It’s not as pointed a song, but it gets to the heart of his beliefs: “Yes, another world will come/another world, I swear/Where the wars we’ve been wagin’ for ages and ages/Will finally refrain to an end,” he sings. 

It’s this kind of faith, whether in God or the constitution, that is required to stand up in times when the price for speaking out is so heavy. O’Mara seems like he’ll be particularly difficult to silence. Beyond being determined to be bold, O’Mara seems ready for the new role of progressive spiritual warrior.

“I want to have eloquent anger,” said O’Mara. “I want to have decisive outrage and an impatience with injustice.” 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with John Francis O’Mara and the songs we discussed, starting with “Walking In Babylon,” which finds our society in a state of biblical disrepair. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live alternate Wednesdays at 8am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://johnfrancisomara.com for more.

“Where Do You Come From” is the simple question posed by the title of Glen Peters’ latest album. As it’s posed in the song itself, the question is loaded. It’s an act of exclusion from British society. Peters delivers a far more complex answer to the query, arguing that he comes from India, his birthplace; Britain, his adopted home; the human race; and most poignantly, the sum of his experiences. “Home is my echo/my last refrain,” he sings on an earnest track.

“Most people regard home as something physical. At any point in time, it probably is,” said Peters. “But for me, home is a journey and it’s the trail that we’ve left, the memories. In a way, those things are more important to me. A lot of wonderful things come to mind.”

Peters has been embracing the UK folk music tradition for half a century now and sees in it a bit of the harmonies of the Northern Indian Roma people. In a world that increasingly wants to categorize and exclude people based on skin color or birthplace, Peters presents a powerful argument that identity is a multifaceted thing based on ancestry, experience, and the others around him. Both India and Britain are important to him.

“One is a physical place and the other is a spiritual place. I think the two move in and out of each other,” said Peters. “I was born in India, I went to school in India, and a lot of my early vivid memories are in India. People, family, music, and my early childhood.” 

Of course growing up doesn’t stop there. On “When You’re Sixteen,” Peters recalls the experience of becoming more independent and exploring a new homeland for the first time. London “set me free,” he sings on the autobiographical track.

“Going from one environment to another, also within myself going from a teenager to an adult, was a very exciting time to be,” said Peters. “The conflation of those two made quite an exciting time for me.” 

Peters does more than sing about his complex identity on the album. He also plays with it, switching from singing in a fairly standard British accent to emphasizing his Indian roots on songs more deeply rooted in the traditions of his homeland. In “Oh To Be An Aries,” he explores concept of astrology, extremely popular in India, through the lens of what would have happened if moving to a different time zone would have changed his sign. 

Peters’ discussion about having to conform like a Pisces rather than be outgoing like an Aries mirrors the idea of moving countries quite neatly. A big fish (or tiger, so to speak) in newly independent India may seem less impressive in a big pond like London. Peters admitted he had to take actions to conform in his new home.

“There’s a certain level of excitement in which I would have been brought up to speak. I felt I had to moderate some of that,” said Peters. “So yes, I did change the way I interacted with people.”

As a recent transplant to Britain myself, I couldn’t help but knowingly laugh at some of his confusion back in the 70s.

“In Britain it was quite common for someone to ask you to do something. ‘Would you like to move box A to room B?’” said Peters. “The ‘like’ wasn’t an expression in terms of giving you an option, it was asking you to do that. Initially I found that quite confusing. ‘No, I wouldn’t like to do that.’”

Today Peters is very much a roaring Aries in Wales. He owns a solar plant build in an estate that also hosts artistic events, including the debut of this album.

“Music, very broadly speaking, is an important part of my life in terms of entertainment, having fun, making friends, reaching out to people,” said Peters. “But it’s also very therapeutic. It wasn’t the main focus of my life. It wasn’t something I dreamt about all day long. But it was woven into the texture of being me.” 

Musician and businessman. Immigrant and successful Briton. Peters comes from there, but also here.

“I will use [the] two parts of me when I feel I need to,” said Peters. “You can only make good use of these things instead of trying to be one person.”

Also woven into the album are episodes of British history that somehow involve people from the crown jewel of the old empire. In “Sepoy’s Lament,” he reflects on decisions to defend the imposed social order in India. Far more inspirational is “Kahn Of The Wire,” which tells the story of Noor Inayat Kahn, a brave young British woman who shared a skin tone with Peters. He marveled at Kahn’s ability to confront the teachings of her faith when presented with a threat as serious as the Nazis.

“Sufi is a Muslim sect that’s very mystical and strongly pacifist in their beliefs. The war started, she became aware of some of the nastier sides of war, and decided to put aside her pacifist tendencies and became a radio operator,” said Kahn. “She was a spy. She was airlifted into France and was the first woman to be a spy in Nazi occupied Paris and she passed vital troop movements in the days before the D-Day landing.”

She was captured, escaped, captured again, tortured, and killed without giving up any information. Peters learned about Kahn when Prince Charles dedicated a statue to her and has since pondered about her deeply, even wondering how that pacifist faith might have helped her during her darkest hours. 

“Every time I sing it I’m quite moved,” he said of the song he wrote for her.

Peters believes that current Britons don’t necessarily learn about the role subjects of the empire played in shaping the strong nation the UK is today.

“I think there is a lack of understanding,” said Peters. “Even I wasn’t aware that there were 1.5 million people from the Commonwealth who played a huge contribution in both WWI and WWII. But that’s changing right now.”

Identity is a complicated thing, especially in a country that once laid claim to one quarter of humanity. Candidates standing for election in Britain today have gone so far as to say that even some people who were born in Britain may not actually be British. Others in territories still controlled by the UK can argue their families became British simply because a ship landed on the shore and the men inside declared themselves in charge.

Peters’ concept of identity on this album feels more fair as it takes into consideration the experiences and opinions of an individual as they identify themselves. He sings on this album about being the “wrong shade of brown” in an accent you might not associate with someone his shade of brown. It stands out as a wonderful example of how judging someone by their birthplace and appearance may not give you anywhere close to enough information to understand their story, values, and experiences.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Glen Peters and the songs we discussed, starting with “Home Is,” which goes on for a few minutes because the answer is not so simple. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every other Wednesday at 8am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check this site to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://rhosygilwen.co.uk for more. Peters doesn’t have much of an online presence as a musician, so I included his arts centre instead.

Heather Aubrey Lloyd has learned to write her own hymns. Panic Room With A View is very much an artifact of the pandemic, but the focus on hope, resilience, and faith is just as relevant in 2026 as political issues loom large instead of a virus. Lloyd’s cries for hope are sometimes gritty and bleak. Sometimes they come out like a whisper. They are among the most believable tracks of their kind as a result. The inspirations are strange and specific, but the messages apply to just about anyone listening. 

Looking at a music festival’s FAQ page, Lloyd stumbled across the fairly literal question ‘are you lost?’ Sitting in the very found location of her home, Lloyd was still floored by the question. Yes. In a way, she did feel lost.

“Every song I’ve ever written that sounded resilient or optimistic was the prayer I only half believed. I was writing my own hymns long before I expected anyone else to buy it,” said Lloyd. She has mixed feelings about the fact her pandemic song hits hard today. “I long to be made irrelevant, but I guess I’m on some level I’m grateful the lessons and maybe the hope transfers.” 

Lloyd has tried her hand at journalism and teaching. A chat with her about songwriting and the deep thought she puts into the ethics and deeper truths of each song makes me realize she’s in the right business now. Lloyd sees other benefits.

“I get down,” said Lloyd. “Thankfully I’m a folk singer so no one expects me to be happy.”

Both teaching and having step children did lead to a serious change for Lloyd. Her personal doubts had to take a back seat to the needs of the young people around her. “I found the way and I made it through/to pass it down to you/And you will too,” she sings. Eventually, that changed Lloyd’s outlook. 

“Whether you have opt to your own or not, time spent in the education or uplifting of children in your community not only forces you to care or have investment in the future, it will also heal up things in you,” said Lloyd. “I made vows to my step kids. First, I would never lie to them. Second, I would never ask them to do anything I wasn’t first willing to do myself.”

Her time as a journalist in Baltimore also deeply shaped how she treated songs for a time. The experience also reminded her that people are more alike and resilient than she imagined.

“I was going into parts of the city where people said you should be afraid,” said Lloyd. “People are people and for the most part they’re just trying to not die in some stupid way. I went into a neighborhood where they had given up hope that they were going to control the drug dealers in the area, so they had gone to public works just to ask for speed bumps so they’d at least slow down and stop hitting their kids.”

She soon was approaching songs with the fact checking attitude of a newswoman. Sometimes, like when she learned details about the settings of one of her songs, the instincts served her well. Other times, she had to remember that songs are meant to reflect a slightly more complex version of the truth. 

“Where journalism and folk songs have an interesting intersection is that when I first started writing song, I was very uncomfortable not writing the absolute truth,” said Lloyd. “Songwriting says if you can find all these truths and bind them and unify them, that’s the greater truth born of the stitching of stories.”

Her new outlook allowed her to tell the story of graffiti in Aleppo, Syria without researching the people behind it. The graffiti read: “To the girl who shared the siege with me, I love you.”

“The journalist in me had to look certain stuff up because I don’t live there. Your brain says that’s a desert people, they haven’t seen the snow, and thank God I did look up the weather because they do get snow. That’s a thing journalism and folk singing both demand: I need to alter my assumption,” said Lloyd of the song. As for its deeper truth?  “When we are facing oblivion, and there may be nothing else we can do, what else is there but turning to the person next to you?”

Lloyd eventually discovered that her song had a happy ending: the author of that graffiti survived, and he’s still with that girl. The raw emotions of fear and human connection remain in Lloyd’s song. It doesn’t have a clear happy ending because its greater truth was to remind listeners that it’s human to root for love and safety. “Though we would have never been so bold/between the bombs she slipped her hand in mine,” she sings. 

“The songs are the way I tell myself I’m engaging in those conversations in a sneaky way. The Girl Who Shared The Siege With Me is the definition of show don’t tell,” said Lloyd. “The fear of siege for no reason other than other people’s conflicts is a universal thing. Folk songs look to tap into the universal thing to jar people who think that their problem or feeling or hatred or bias is somehow unique.”

Being an activist and a musician is a tricky line to toe. Lloyd doesn’t want to overestimate or underestimate her power. 

“I don’t want to walk around like a song can change the world, but every once in a while, a song has changed me,” said Lloyd. “People are stubborn. You can talk and talk and talk, but deeply held beliefs are not easily dispelled even by logic. Music attacks the feeling. If you can get into somebody via a pathway that seems neutral enough, [they] might have to address other things within [themselves].”

The most fascinating song on her album, The Stove, is based on a dark fairy tale. In it, a girl with a secret she cannot tell is encouraged to unburden herself in a stove. A benevolent king listens through the pipes and starts working on a way to help her. For Lloyd, this bizarre setup was akin to religion or therapy.

“Years after I stopped going, I held the room in my mind this invented place I could access. I pretended sometimes that he wasn’t even real and he was always a figment of my imagination,” Lloyd said. “The unburdening of yourself is desperately important, especially in these times. I find rage eats me now. I never knew I had so much rage. I had sadness, I had anxiety, the rage is new. The stove is meant to be this place of peace, this place of lack of judgement. A place where you’re allowed to be selfish and express all of these things.” 

In asking if the stove is like God, or if God even exists, Lloyd decided to explore some profound questions about the nature of religion and its utility even if it’s not true. Rather than answer questions about what she believes is out there, she focuses on how faith in something is an important salve. “I know mercy is uncertain here/but how the world it burns us,” she sings. 

“If more people were vulnerable with their God, we would probably do a lot less evil in this world,” said Lloyd.

The second half of her album is more optimistic, focused on love, and is more ordinary than her skilled spelunking into the darkness of the first half. Still, one great message comes across. In her song “Hum,” Lloyd argues that sometimes it’s wise to do a little less in order to stay strong in the long run. It certainly fits nicely with some of the tougher ideas on her album. Some days we can think about the lovers under siege and scream into the stove. Others, humming along is what we can handle so we can care for ourselves and loved ones. Just as with her songs about profound pain, the relatively sweet “Hum” is an important part of healing.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Heather Aubrey Lloyd and the songs we discussed, starting with “Are You Lost?,” which comes from a hilariously literal inspiration. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.heatheraubreylloyd.com for more.

Paul Armfield is a folk musician who has been an independent bookseller for more than 30 years. Both of those creative passions meet on Between the Covers, an album full of original and recycled songs about books. 

Yet this isn’t simply a love letter to the written word. Armfield’s originals show a deep knowledge of how creatives and readers think. “Bookmarks” is about the stories that shape us, “the ones where we find ourselves,” as Armfield sang. 

“They exist deep in our psyche, these books open doors for us when we are younger,” said Armfield, describing seeing picture books at an exhibition that he remembered from his childhood. “The books that as a young teen opened my heart were the books that I shouldn’t be reading.”

Later in life, Armfield feels as though we are more likely to be drawn to art that affirms our beliefs.

“There are poems that appeal to you at certain points in your life that either come as a salve to a wound or an inspiration,” said Armfield. “Something that makes you feel that your experience is shared and you’re not alone.” 

These days, Armfield is not bothered by seeing one of his albums for resale. Earlier on, it stung. “Paperback” takes the point of view of the creatives who put out their work only to see it receive minimum interest.

“There are other books we still enjoy that we are keen to get rid of. These are the books that if you go to a second hand shop that you’ll see in abundance. These are the books we devour but don’t treasure culturally,” said Armfield.“How it must feel to go into a charity shop and just see your life story thrown away for pennies.” 

Armfield doesn’t have the sort of views you’d expect from a songwriter and physical seller of books. For one, he loves audio books and discounts the notion of physical ownership.

“I’ve read more books this year as an audio book than I’ve read in many, many years. It’s fantastic. I love it. It’s a revelation I’m not precious about books or music,” said Armfield. “This is the worst thing to say as a musician who also sells books, but I wrestle with the idea that we need the physical format. In a society that is concerned with waste, they are two items that we don’t need to have physical copies of.” 

One of his more interesting takes is that creatives shouldn’t expect to make much money on their art and should have a day job. Money, he says, should not be at the center of it.

“I just wonder if that’s the best motivation to make the best art. People who are creative would be doing that whether they were being paid or not,” said Armfield. “The artist who is created the product is quite often at the bottom of the food chain. The publisher is getting paid first. For the majority of the people creating, they’re not making as much money as the industry that sells the product.” 

“The Books Beside My Bed,” at first, seems like only the confessions of a book hoarder. Deeper down, it’s a tale of time management and unrealized goals. “Each book a good intention,” he sings.

“The books and the records on our shelves, I’m not sure they reveal much about us as people other than the people we want to be. If you want to know what a person’s really like, you look at their browsing history. 

The song ends with Armfield fantasizing about have infinite time to read, even after death. It’s something he said he resonated with his audiences who can relate and tease each other over it. 

There’s something comforting in hearing that a career bibliophile falls behind in his readings and even falls asleep trying to enjoy art. It makes it just a little easier to admit that I’ll often pass out listening to an album while searching for a song to play on air. 

Armfield didn’t view his songs in terms beyond books, but they certainly have more applications. All of us have those to do lists, those moments that have shaped us, and those times we’ve put ourselves out there. One thing he agrees the songs show is how precious time is. 

“I love the idea of waking up and reading for an hour in the morning, but I wake up in the morning and think of all the things I have to do that day and I go out and do them,” said Armfield. “I think of reading as a luxury. If I have one day a year to just sit and read I consider myself lucky.” 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Paul Armfield and the songs we discussed, starting with Bookmarks, which for Paul involves both the gingerbread man and King’s horror. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://paularmfield.com for more.

Josh Fortenbery wrote “Heaven’s Above” as a “eulogy for nihilism.” He’d spent most of his life seeing a broken system he couldn’t fix and living for himself. Now, seeing a new generation spring forth from his friends and family, he’s decided he has to at least try to improve his community despite knowing full well he doesn’t have any of the answers.

“At some point it becomes impossible to stand on the sidelines and watch things fall apart without recognizing that you’re somehow complicit,” said Fortenbery. “I’m not sitting here on a cloud above it all, I’m in the middle of it.” 

Fortenbery’s album Tidy Memorial, with songs titles such as “Is It Me?,” grapples with current and pandemic era politics primarily through self examination and calls for understanding. There are a few songs on the album, “Steven,” for example, that show Fortenbery is not neutral in any discussions over justice. But he tends to focus more on structural problems and individual solutions. “I could argue with a statue and still think I won,” he sings in “Groundhog.” 

“I think we all intuitively understand that it’s becoming more difficult to talk about meaningful things without devolving into name calling,” said Fortenbery. “Worldwide, we’re all dealing with the same information bubbles and same social media algorithms that push us into these media diets that are tailored to our own suspicions and biases.”

“Nobody cares like I do/But I’m pretty sure you think/that nobody cares like you,” sings Fortenbery in “Heaven’s Above.” It doesn’t seem like he’s calling for a change in viewpoints on behalf of either party, rather a little bit of empathy and recognition of similarities. He’s smart enough to realize nothing will change until those bubbles and silos start breaking.

“Is there a world in which enough people realize they’re being lied to? Maybe that makes folks start to ask more questions,” said Fortenbery. “Maybe this is all very optimistic, but I’ve found it more difficult to lean into complete hopelessness because it’s harder to get out of bed that way.”

If “Tidy Memorial” calls for greater dialogue between opposing sides,“Poppy’s Waltz” is a recognition of both how easy and difficult that can be. On the one hand, Fortenbery had a good relationship with his grandfather and found many admirable traits in the man, as the lyrics suggest. Still, they disagreed on the topic of Israel and had to avoid the topic. “Love can’t bridge all gaps,” Fortenbery admits.

“Most American Jews his age came to view the foundation of the state of Israel as destiny and a safe haven. I’ve grown up with a different set of life experiences. I’ve always viewed it through the lens of apartheid, separation, oppressive state control, treating people the way you don’t want to be treated,” Fortenbery said. “It was less of a disagreement and more of a taboo in that household because there was no way to see eye to eye. As some of the lyrics give away, I’m prone to think I’m correct; I still think I’m right about this one. That doesn’t mean that he was a bad person. I still think you can live your life in a way that shows you’re compassionate, kind, caring, while holding some beliefs that I might find difficult to accept.” 

Years into a tragic situation that saw more than a thousand Israelis kidnapped and murdered and tens of thousands of Palestinians killed and Gaza flattened, the topic remains extraordinarily difficult to address. The Trump administration has essentially taken partial control of universities on the basis that they didn’t do enough to protect Jewish students from those protesting Israel. Support for Palestine, or at least opposition to the Israeli government, is now a mainstream view in the Democratic Party. Trump takes credit for having secured a ceasefire in the region, but American bombs are still landing in Gaza. It’s difficult enough for me to talk about situation this fraught and complex, but I’m not being asked to weigh in. Fortenbery is.

“It feels to me like a tricky conversation to enter in the regular world as a Jewish person. There certainly has been an increase in antisemitism, though I don’t equate anti-Israel sentiments with antisemitism,” said Fortenbery. “It’s not like I have any particular set of skills that would fix anything, but it seems like there’s an expectation of you just because of your born identity.”

Fortenbery passes some judgement on local police on “Steven,” which describes a tragic confrontation between them and a homeless Alaskan. But he’s mostly asking questions, sharp as they may be: “Is that life?/Is that it?/Something you can take away and say he deserved it?” 

“He was a pretty quiet, gentle guy, but like many people who are homeless had mental struggles. He had this big beautiful malamute dog who always wanted a pet,” said Fortenbery. “The police wanted to question him in conjunction with some alleged assault that happened downtown. He was having an episode and always carried a knife with him. They claim he took a step toward him and he was shot and killed. This is not a unique story to Juneau. This happens everywhere. I don’t know what the right answer is but certainly we’re not doing enough.” 

With tough questions like this, with political conditions worsening throughout the world, with Alaska quite literally entering perpetual darkness, Fortenbery admits he may be spoon-feeding himself positive thoughts. But he’s forming them through positive actions and involvement in his local and music communities. Even the negatives he focuses on in his music aren’t representative of all his thoughts.

“We can make people feel. We can make beautiful art. We have a nice afternoon together. We can go out and provide food to people who need it. It’s not hard to go out and volunteer at a shelter for the afternoon. There’s a bunch of little human interactions that are available to everyone. If I just read the news, then I’d be sucked into that pit of despair that if you just listen to my songs, you’d think I’m in all the time,” said Fortenbery. “But music is my way to process the things that upset me so that hopefully when I venture out into the world, I’m not a miserable bastard all the time. Hopefully, I’ll find a little bit of beauty and joy because this is the only chance we’re going to get at living.”

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Josh Fortenbery and the songs we discussed, starting with “Heaven’s Above,” which seeks self improvement in an increasingly absurd political environment. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.joshfortenbery.com for more.

Trust Fall is a mature record from an up and coming artist. Hannah Delynn’s first track, “For The Record,” is a goodbye song that’s part apology, part affirmation of the decision to leave. There’s very little bitterness about a situation that had to have been fairly difficult. “I want the best for you,” Delynn sings of someone who hurt her enough to cause the singer to end something that could at times be beautiful. 

There are folk albums that paint scenes with such detail you can practically see what you’re hearing. Trust Fall perhaps the exact opposite of that. There are breakups, fallings out, and other strains but we never get a clear picture of what’s going on past the notion that one song might be more about a family member and another focused on romance. Somehow, that’s a good thing. There’s a universality to songs heavy on feelings and concepts and light on specifics. There’s also a little dignity and privacy for the artist and subjects. An artist may choose to put her life on display, but those around her probably haven’t. When she says she wants the best for someone, it’s easy to believe her. She’s providing them with the room to achieve whatever that looks like. Delynn’s message of understanding is “a learned practice,” but it certainly feels genuine.

“I have realized over time that most people are trying to do their best with the tools they have,” said Delynn. “I think something that’s been really helpful for me is to try to assume goodwill and good intent and recognize everyone’s humanity. It has not been an easy journey by any means, but I think it grants myself a lot more peace.”

The best part about an album like this is the measured quality of Delynn’s assessment. She’s not lashing out or beating herself up. She’s on her own list of people she wants the best for. 

During our conversation, I decided to stick with the spirit of Trust Fall and respect the privacy of Delynn and those involved. I was happy to ask her to explain what she meant, but reluctant to push for details on what happened. If she had wanted to air those parts of her life, I suspect she would have addressed them under the optimal conditions of being able to write and edit the stories. 

“Talking about things that have hurt me was a very new experience and I felt really scared about doing it,” said Delynn, who added that some of the subjects of her songs have heard what she wrote. “I’m trying to infuse talking about difficult things with some grace. A lot of this record is beginning to realize my own part. Being human is hard sometimes, and I’d rather go into this record stating that I acknowledge that.”

Delynn has had to get comfortable with a lack of closure. Many of the situations she sings about on Trust Fall are unresolved in some way. Just as there are details missing in the stories we’re hearing, there are pieces missing for their author.

“So much of my experience of healing has been being able to sit with that discomfort and uncertainty,” said Delynn. “You might not get the conversation that you still hope to have with a friend, a family member, an ex. I think the way we can help ourselves is to get comfortable in discomfort, or at least find tools and ways of coping that create more peace within ourselves and therefore ripples out into our lives.”

Many of Delynn’s difficult conversations on the album are with herself. She’s questioning her past actions. She’s unsure how she let others get her into bad places.

“It’s painful to reckon with time lost. There’s so much up to that point where [I wonder] why didn’t I see this sooner,” asked Delynn. “We can cultivate gratitude. You wouldn’t have gotten to the good place if you hadn’t had messed up. You’re only becoming the best version of yourself because of that hardship.”

It’s a muscle she describes as having to develop slowly as she learned how to speak to herself in a different way.

“How would I talk to someone else I love if I don’t want to talk to myself this way,” Delynn asked. 

“Leaf on a River,” the album’s most gorgeous song, is about recognizing that she needs to relax and let things be. She came to understand that she can’t control others and can’t change the past. 

“If I can forgive her/I might reach the sea,” she realizes. 

“I feel like you can catch glimpses of it,” she said of her sea. “I think I’m getting better at creating my own internal peaceful sea. But it certainly can be stormy weather in there sometimes.”

The name Trust Fall comes from Delynn making vital changes to heal, even if it meant stepping onto unsteady and new ground. Her sense of having lost time and not lived to her fullest it at its strongest on the serene but agonized last track “Waiting.” 

“I don’t feel quite finished yet/When this sun sets/maybe I’ll get another,” Delynn sings on waiting.

“I had been experimenting in my life by instead of waiting for the conditions to be right, acting and hoping a net will appear,” Delynn said. “Almost testing the universe in a way by leading with the kind of life I want to have and seeing what responds.”

Delynn has learned to readjust her expectations in all kinds of relationships and to change what she values.

“When someone shows you what they’re willing to give you, I think it’s learning to read that and accept that and begin to set your expectations accordingly,” Delynn said. “Reciprocity has become a huge gauge.”

Trust Fall is a gorgeous and calming record that covers all kinds of awareness of self and awareness of others. It’s mature in both wanting the right things for others and learning to accept what might be best for yourself. While I tend to prefer albums rich in detail, this one in particular works with fairly little: it’s probably best to fill in the gaps with details from your own life.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Hannah Delynn and the songs we discussed, starting with For The Record, which extends grace in a difficult situation. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://hannahdelynn.com for more.

For the last several years and few albums, Maia Sharp has been starting over. She left a decades-long marriage and her home state. It hasn’t always been an easy process, but Tomboy is an excellent window into someone embracing change and opening herself up to life. The title track, which explain one thing that’s remained consistent about her since childhood, is the only song to suggest things can be constant.

“I was pretty resistant to change, or afraid of it. Now it’s a theme,” said Sharp. “I want to always be changing. I want to always be looking for the next thing. I welcome things that are a little scary. After doing this for 30 years, I don’t want to be too comfortable.”

Sharp had initially resisted taking the big swings needed to make her changes. Part of that was being unsure how or when to start. Sharp also was hesitant to get divorced or move across the country until she could make sure she didn’t lose her connection to her now ex-wife. 

“We worked hard. We spent a year redefining who we were going to be moving forward knowing that we were no longer going to be married,” said Sharp. “That was what made it possible for me to make the changes. It was very important for me to keep her in my life. It was very important for me to keep her close.”

The process has paid off after a few difficult years. 

“Even when I left, I still wasn’t sure, but I knew I wasn’t going to see it from the inside. I had to get into another situation to realize what had to grow,” said Sharp. “Three albums ago I’m still in the storm. My last album I’m on the edge of it. This one I feel like I’m pretty much out of it and have a clearer view looking back and hopefully looking forward as well.”

Sharp’s openness to looking forward can sometimes come with difficulties. On “A Fool In Love Again,” she seems to realize that a new relationship might not come with the same magic associated with falling in love in her 20s. She describes the recklessness and thrills as “drowning out the truth in my desire.” Now in her early 50s, Sharp is looking again and finding it difficult to embrace anyone wholeheartedly. 

“I want to fall in love from this new vantage point in life,” said Sharp. “Is it the same? I don’t know what it’s going to feel like. I don’t know if [I will] either. I see red flags from a mile away. It can’t possibly feel like it did when I was 25. Hopefully it will be its own thing.”

One of the funnier songs on the album is “Counterintuition,” where Sharp essentially admits she needs to start doing and thinking the opposite of whatever she’s been doing to have success in the dating world. A lot has changed, most significantly the introduction of dating apps, and Sharp is recognizing the sorts of things that works in a marriage don’t do nearly as well there. 

“I think I came out of the gate being too open. This is how vulnerable and real I am. I think it scared everybody away,” said Sharp. “It felt like for the first three months or so, everything I said was just the wrong thing. Everything was attracting exactly what I didn’t want. At first it was really frustrating and then it was just hilarious.”

As an artist, Sharp has benefited from her openness and ability to express herself. She also talks about benefiting from not wanting to be famous or chase any huge amount of financial success.

“Here’s the real me. Hopefully you like it, but if you don’t, it doesn’t change anything,” said Sharp. “The more that I settle into that idea and the less that I’m concerned about how other people respond, the better they seem to respond.”

As the changes have come, Sharp has been careful to make sure she’s being authentic to herself, especially as someone living in the public eye. 

“I knew to be careful to check myself at every point along the way that this feels right,” Sharp said. “If you start to go down a path that isn’t entirely you, if you start to represent yourself as even something that you are slightly not, you have to keep on backing that up and doubling down.” 

“Nobody survives a good conversation/nobody survives a good song/whoever you were before the transformation is gone,” begins “Any Other Way.” The lines are Sharp’s strongest on Tomboy and give the listener an idea of just how complete her process of change has been. She points to her work with Songwriting With Soldiers as the inspiration for the thought.

“I walk out of those rooms every single time – and it’s been over 100 times now – and I know that I’ve been changed,” said Sharp, who believes change comes fairly easily with if one is “just not resistant to it.”

Songwriting, in addition to a source of income and an outlet, is a way of measuring change and making it permanent for Sharp.

“Very often for me a song is a reminder of something I learned. I don’t want to forget it,” said Sharp. “Having that song out there, every time I hear it, it will help me to make sure I don’t lose any ground.” 

Sharp mentioned that the most satisfying part of her career, especially post Covid, has been interacting with fans who perhaps felt they hadn’t survived her songs unchanged.

“In the past few years I’ve come to really enjoy the live shows and the hang afterwards. I get to real time, first hand, see the reaction and hear what the songs meant,” said Sharp. “Sometimes there’s a meaning in the song that I didn’t intend. But they heard it because that’s what they needed. It’s overwhelming. It fills me up.”

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Maia Sharp and the songs we discussed, starting with Asking for a Friend, which, as you might expect, is not about a friend. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.maiasharp.com for more.

On Clever Rabbits, Ann Liu Cannon went down some truly mythological rabbit holes. Her album documents thousands of years of folk tales and religion, 25 years of living, and an era gone by. Cannon’s intense love songs, a few years after the fact, don’t always make sense to her present day self.

“I think at that point in time I experienced love in a very innocent, naive, wholesome way, but it meant that I was very prone to losing all sense of my orders and dissipating internally,” said Cannon. “I felt very messy and very lost in where I ended and where other people began.”

If Cannon wasn’t able to experience healthy love, she was at least able to experience biblical emotions over it. “Jealous God” is a hurricane of emotion and sound formed around the suspicion of a partner cheating. Cannon justifies her jealousy by matching it with that of God, who is many times over stated to be jealous in the Bible. “He made us in his own eyes,” she sings. 

“When you’re in that jealous space, you play God in a way. It’s not an ideal thing to do to other people and yourself,” said Cannon. “I grew up around a lot of Sacred spaces. My schooling was through the Church of England and my father taught Sacred architecture. It didn’t mean that I was partaking – I’m not religious in a straightforward manner – but those environments mean a lot to me.”

The stories mean a lot to Cannon too. She said that she often compares events in her life to myths and proverbs. Speaking with Cannon, it’s clear that she sees just about everything on multiple levels. One line about smelling the fear of London was meant as both a reference to how the nose clears during moments of intense anxiety and how rabbits are always twitching their nose. When she identifies with characters in myth, she examines the implications that might have for her true desires. It’s a web of thought that’s nearly impossible to follow from an outsider’s perspective and yet genuinely fun to hear Cannon explain. 

“These are some of the oldest texts we have and I like to root everything I’m doing in the past,” Cannon said. “I naturally want to draw on these myths and legends to help me tell my story.”

While Cannon’s father came from England, her mother came from China. That means another few thousand years worth of myth have followed Cannon to the UK and reside within her. The album title is based on the proverb that “clever rabbits need three burrows,” or it’s smart to have backup plans. In one of the more surreal moments in the interview, Cannon described historic stone carvings depicting three rabbits that appear both in China and England. They hold a special place for Cannon, who identifies with both cultures and the fact that she was born in the Year of the Rabbit. 

“I got around in life a bit like a rabbit,” Cannon said at one point. “It’s very keen on burrowing away, very keen on the home, very sensitive to danger almost to the point where it gets very startled and at the very last minute they bolt. I think other people find the bolting quite jarring.”

Cannon described her own album as self-absorbed. She’s someone who often examines her own work critically, right down to her words during our conversation.

“To exist is to be angry,” she said at one point. “Did I say that? Oh my God I’m so dramatic” immediately followed.

To some extent, Cannon has a point. Others who feature on the album, most prominently her ex, don’t get a chance to share their perspective, she noted. While that’s not usually how albums work, the fact that Cannon is noticing limitations to her work shows she’s expanded her point of view since.

“There are things that are actually happening that you think are happening and there are things that are happening that you really have no idea,” Cannon said. “I was living in this myth land where all these things made sense to me. I feel safest in the written word.”

The surreal “Gobbleknoll,” a song about a myth about a hill that eats people, shows the way Cannon moves from myth to realization. In the story, a rabbit saves the day by ripping out the hill’s intestines. Her first reaction to the story was as a fan of interesting stories. (“This is fucking awesome,” she said.) Then she began identifying with the rabbit, as she tends to do. Before long, it was time to make a change.

“Perhaps if I want to kill my home then perhaps I’m not meant to be here and I’m not really a rabbit at all,” Cannon said. “Maybe you’re beyond the story you’re telling yourself. I can move beyond this story.” 

On “Mên-an-Tol,” which references a historical site in the UK, Cannon wishes to “love like humans do.” It seems telling that she’s asking this of a rock formation instead of an elder or peer. Being lost in Cannon’s head is a truly interesting experience, even if only for an album.

There’s one song on the album about someone she loves that is beautiful and thoughtful beyond anything she wrote about a partner. “I held him like he held me once,” she sings of her dying father on “False Hope.”

“I was visualizing forward what that death was going to be. I wanted to write a song that was very joyful,” Cannon said. “The process of watching someone die gave me so much joy. He was there at my first moments in the world and I was there in his last breaths.”

Cannon described it as more of an honor than a typical feeling of happiness and pointed out that a lot of meaning in our lives comes from the fact that they are temporary.

“When you’re confronted with death in that way, every other emotion gets so much more precious,” said Cannon. “The terror and the pain in that situation meant that when I did feel joy, that joy was so much more appreciated.”

It’s here that Cannon’s grasp of large time scales and the patterns of human stories benefits her most. If myth helps Cannon to process loss and to outgrow an old self image, it may just be a more healthy lens through which to view the world than she realizes. It’s strange, but it works.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Ann Liu Cannon and the songs we discussed, starting with Jealous God, which kicks things off with a fire and brimstone intensity. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.annliucannon.co.uk for more.

Trapper Schoepp’s first encounter with the worst disease he’d ever face came at a doctor’s office. Schoepp was dealing with chronic pain as a result of some BMX injuries and surgeries that had left him feeling a bit like “Frankenstein” and his doctor had decided the best course of treatment was a steady supply of pain pills. “You ain’t gave me nothing but a loaded gun,” Schoepp sings of the encounter.

Osborne is an album that traces addiction from first contact to recovery. It documents highs, lows, freedom, hopelessness, and searing anger. In our discussion, Schoepp admitted that it was difficult for him to talk about the issues that he faced. Addiction still isn’t an easy subject despite the overwhelming number of people who have faced it.

“There’s a mental health epidemic in America and an addiction epidemic in America. We’ve come a long way in terms of mental health and normalizing it, but I think addiction’s another thing,” said Schoepp. “There’s a lot of shame and isolation and guilt attached to it. What people need is acceptance and community and love. They don’t need more shame. A lot of people feel great shame for their addiction and it creates this vicious cycle.”

Schoepp sings on the album that he likes to do what he feels. BMX biking seemed like a good outlet for that. 

“It felt artistic at times. It was a cool way to express yourself as a kid,” said Schoepp. These days he expresses himself through music after injuries derailed him in more ways than one. “[It was] some pretty gnarly stuff for a kid to go through. The spinal decompression surgery was a tough one.”

Schoepp was given opioids by a doctor who seemed like he couldn’t prescribe enough pain pills to the young man, who was suffering from conditions like sciatica. While the album suggests the doctor should be classified as a criminal, Schoepp took a more nuanced approach in our conversation. 

“I think a doctor is influenced by an environment much greater than themself,” said Schoepp. “At the time, the environment was to put bandaids over pain that was deemed chronic or incurable. In some instances they’re warranted, especially in clinical settings. They’re dangerous. There needs to be more guardrails. Those medications have a way of tricking and training your brain.”

The environment Schoepp described had to do with an aggressive marketing push by Purdue Pharmaceutical, run by the Sackler family. There’s a little less nuance here and on the album, where Schoepp sings “Satan is a Sackler.” 

“The Sackler family really popularized the idea that chronic pain had to be treated forever,” Schoepp said. “They were really responsible for the opioid epidemic in America. They created this empire of pain. They were evil geniuses for creating the illness of chronic pain. They knew what they had. They knew it was highly addictive and they promoted it anyway. They blamed poor people in rural communities for getting addicted to their substances and they didn’t take responsibility.”

The judicial system decided they should take responsibility and forced them to pay $7.4 billion for their malfeasance. 

“There’s no amount of money for the pain that they caused, but it’s something,” said Schoepp, who said he’d be uncomfortable holding a bottle of pills to this day. The opioids served as a gateway drug into other substances for Schoepp, much like they did for many other Americans who became addicted by following their prescriptions.

“Osborne” isn’t a bleak album. It gets its name from the unit of a standout rehab facility Schoepp attended in Minnesota. It also happens to be the same facility Ozzy Osbourne recovered in. 

“If Ozzy can do it, I can do it,” Schoepp remembered thinking.

The process of recovery involved letting go of some hard feelings and developing willpower.

“It came in a couple different waves. I white knuckled getting off pain killers and it was absolute hell,” said Schoepp. “I came back into some other substances that I thought were not as addictive but ended up being just as much as an issue for me. I kind of went mad and I ended up at the Hazleton Betty Ford Clinic in Minnesota where you address the whole person.”

The approach has paid off. Schoepp moved past the attitude on display on the tragic and gorgeous “Tomorrow’s For Quittin’” and stuck with it. It certainly wasn’t a linear process, he explained, but by the time we spoke, Schoepp was wearing a sunhat and sitting in a field of sunflowers, speaking soulfully about what he went through.

“I think you need to follow your nose and follow your heart. Do the best you can and don’t be too hard on yourself That’s a big thing in recovery,” said Schoepp. “You go in trying to fix everything and you get this analysis paralysis. There are just little things you can do to get through the day.”

Schoepp says he’s still growing and considers himself and his art a work in progress. He chose to end the album on a note of encouragement. “Suicide Summer” is seemingly addressed to other addicts with much the same message he felt Ozzy was sending him: if he can make it, “so can you.” 

“I think it’s easier to not deal with something and move on,” Schoepp said. “The brave thing is to go head on into the storm.”

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Trapper Schoepp and the songs we discussed, starting with Loaded, which introduces us to his first encounter with prescription painkillers.. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://trapperschoepp.com for more.

Anna Ling is in tune with something much bigger than herself. It’s natural, scientific, and spiritual. Carefully considered and instinctual. Anyone who listens to Light will understand that Ling has a unique connection to the world around her. She describes the human condition as being part of a mycelium, after the wide-reaching interconnected underground fungi. 

What’s remarkable is that even other creatures sense her respect and love for all that’s alive. Sitting in a barn, Ling received a visit on her shoulder from a butterfly.

“The tips of its wings had gotten caught up with cobwebs,” said Ling. “I brought the butterfly onto my hand and spent awhile just taking the cobwebs away from the butterfly’s wings and I managed to take enough of them away that they opened back up again. I took the butterfly outside and it flew away.”

It’s a serene and joyful moment. For Ling, it led to a beautiful piece on love and the interconnectedness of every being. A chance event became an opportunity for her to reflect: “I’m not really good at asking for help. I think that’s part of our hyper-individualized culture. The experience was such a huge gratitude. I felt like this butterfly had trusted me with this huge task.” 

It was Ling’s line about mycelium that really drew me in. It’s an obscure bit of knowledge that is only acquired through actively seeking more information about nature. Evolution, the Big Bang, and plenty more ideas more at home in a textbook show up on this fairly artsy folk album. 

“I love the imagery in science,”said Ling. “I love science as a creative way of understanding the world. I’m less into the nuts and bolts and more into the way these ideas make me feel.”

On “The Moon,” Ling addresses a relative so distant that she was among the first to leave the ocean: “Daughter of sea/

Grandmother tell me/Did you long for the land/What old song drew you up from the deep?”

Again, Ling starts reaching across the mycelium for connections.

“There are cultures around the world where they know the stories of their ancestors for numerable generations,” said Ling. “I don’t really know my grandparent’s grandparents. That’s kind of where the cutoff is. There’s this incredible mystery that goes all the way back to oneness.” 

She describes our one earliest ancestors as prone to kindness: “Some cell that decided to integrate its fellow cell rather than kill it.”

While most would agree that sexuality is part of the natural world, Ling writes as though the natural world is part of sex. On “Limerence,” she writes I am blood I am grit/With my thighs around your hips/I am the waves crashing cliffs/I am tectonic shifts

“Is sexual connection not one of the most intriguing and strange and wonderful part of this human experience?,” asked Ling, who said she often writes in moments of overwhelm. “Most of my most intense experiences have been romantic sexual relationships.”

A standout moment on the album compares a dead seagull tangled in plastic to Jesus Christ. One died for our sins, the other died as a result of them. The fact that we’re aware that life will eventually end is what Ling believes sets us apart from other life forms. Part of wondering about humanity and the natural world is contemplating death. 

“The structures that we’re living within will end; I can’t see how they won’t,” said Ling. “But we don’t know what’s on the other side. I feel like we’ve got everything to play for. We don’t have to necessarily nosedive into the sea.”

Ling’s spiritual beliefs, while unconventional, share a foundation with that of many other religions.

“I firmly believe that the core of this being is love and peace and light, said Ling. “We do tend to cover it up very successfully, but I have a great faith.”

Don’t let the lyrics distract you from some absolutely gorgeous sounds. Ling’s vocals range from airy to throaty on “Inevitable,” which would’ve made a sonic impression anyway its African folk instrumentation. The remaining nine songs are mostly rooted in English folk, as one might expect from a Devon artist. There’s something slower and softer about this music, though. The light Ling named this album for is not a harsh sun on a hot day, but one that illuminates and soothes. It’s gently penetrating the canopy on a walk through the forest. It’s just strong enough to see by and lasting enough to keep searching. 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Anna Ling and the songs we discussed, starting with Butterly, which demonstrates that even nature understands Anna’s connection to nature. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.annaling.co.uk for more.