Category: On Air

Thin Places begins with a moment of release. The ashes have been scattered and a storm washes them away. Jason Hawk Harris lost his mother six years ago, but the pain is still fresh. 

“I’d say that the moments where I’d just lose it, those moments are now few and far between,” Harris said. “But I don’t think that that’s an effect of the grief fading, I think that’s just me learning how to live with the loss. You just learn to live with the pain and in the process your heart grows a bit.”

His album is magical. It mixes spirituality and autobiography to detail a long, painful process of making peace with death. From the unexpected but beautiful bass drop on “Jordan and the Nile” to the dancing skeletons on “White Berets,” Harris excels at using unique spiritual imagery and sounds to tell his story. The bulk of the album is autobiographical, taking the listener from a painfully awkward funeral to his finding a reason to move forward in true love. The unexpected decision to fast forward to Harris’ own death and resurrection completes a narrative that may not ever come to a satisfying conclusion and opens a window into some deeply considered spiritual beliefs.

“I love to speculate about this,” Harris said. “I think it makes sense to me that if there is an afterlife, it has to be infinite powers better than the best possible thing that occurs here on Earth. We’d get to hang out for endless hours and talk and chat and smoke and drink and wake up without a hangover.”

“Bring Out The Lillies” is a standout moment in the narrative. It captures the otherworldly awkwardness of losing a close family member and the absolute failure of comforting words and gestures to fill the void. The funeral would almost play as a comedy if not for the depth of the pain.

“Anytime I say that my mother passed, I can tell immediately if this person knows what it feels like or they don’t.” Harris said. “If they don’t, they’ll say a very well intentioned ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ and kind of talk and flop all over themselves. I appreciate it, but at the same time it’s very different if I go up to someone who’s lost a very close family member, because I’ll say ‘I’ve lost my mother’ and they’ll just go ‘Damn. Yeah.'”

“The Abyss” is about an experience relatively unique to Harris. He was able to read his mother’s journals and understand the pain that led her to the addiction that claimed his life. It could’ve easily dragged him into an emotional spiral as well, though it’s all halted by a woman’s smile and presumably love. 

One of the beautiful things about Thin Places is that a grieving listener can find true connection at different points in the album. “Shine A Little Light” is experiencing loss at its most raw and destructive. “Roll” is the beginning of acceptance. “I’m Getting By” is a transition from pain to a hopeful future. “So Damn Good” is the point at which existing relationships begin to fill the spaces left by the loss. A well-chosen cover of “Keep Me In Your Heart For A While” and “White Berets” turn death into an inevitable, beautiful process.

The fact that the jubilant “White Berets” ends with a callback to the start of the album somehow works as more than just a neat ending. Grief comes in waves. You’ve made peace with death and the afterlife and then the pain hits you all over again. And while thinking about a future where your dead body joins the greatest dance party in all of eternity is a nice way to soften the fact that we’re all going to die eventually, there’s still the concern of the here and now for even the most fervent believer. 

As for how to cope with death, I suspect the answer is somewhat like how Harris wrote “Jordan and the Nile” without having a clear understanding of what he was writing.

“It’s something that I’ve never really wanted to fully explain to myself,” said Harris. “I think I want to sit in the mystery of it rather than have a dedicated notion of what it means.”

Dig into the well of religion, philosophy, science or all three, and find something beautiful to hang onto, even if pinpointing the exact rationale and history behind it might dampen the magic.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Jason Hawk Harris and the songs we discussed, starting with Jordan and the Nile, which doesn’t have to have an exact meaning. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://jasonhawkharris.com for more.

Mikaela Davis may have been playing with members of her backing band for the better part of a decade, but “And Southern Star” is the first album they’ve recorded as a group. It’s why she named the genre-defying album for them.

Davis, a harp player, brings something special to their blend of sounds. The harp can be beautiful or haunting, or content to be a little of both as it does on “Cinderella.” But it’s always otherworldly when compared to the average mandolin, piano or guitar found on American roots albums. Starting the album off with those plucking sounds was a fantastic decision that lets listeners know they’re in for something different before the first words are spoken.

“It adds some different textures that other instruments can’t,” Davis said of the instrument she’s been playing since age eight. “I can’t really explain what made me want to play this instrument but I felt connected with the harp pretty much right away.”

Davis studied harp classically in college but wields it more fascinatingly in a popular context. Combine that harp with a whining slide guitar and near constant backing harmonies and the whole album feels like a hazy folk-pop dream. Until it doesn’t. “Don’t Stop Now” is a bit too anthemic to be dreamy and “Leave It Alone” is straight up progressive rock with a significant electric guitar solo. 

“It’s not something intentional,” Davis said of the variety of sounds the band blends and explores on the album. “It’s something that happened because our influences are so vast.” 

As intriguing as the band’s sound is, and it certainly is the most apparent and fascinating part of And Southern Star, the lyrics are also thoughtful collaboration. Two themes emerge. The first is that, for better or worse, there are people and places we’re regularly drawn to, usually based on our formative experiences. It’s both beautiful and a curse according to Davis.

“In my experience everything comes back to your childhood; those are your most informative times in life,” Davis said. “Things that I went through in my childhood, you always come back to those moments.” 

That almost gravitational bond to people and places from the past presents as a struggle to overcome in “One of These Days” and takes on a melancholic form in “Far From You,” even if a glimmer of hope is allowed to exist. In “Promise” it’s a bit more frustrating and even comical as an unfulfilling relationship proves hard to shake. 

The second theme is one of future sighted optimism. Davis is rarely declaring that everything is great, but so many lyrics reflect her belief that it will be. “One of these days I’ll be fine.” “The sun is coming out.” “You will find somebody new.” Even “Don’t Stop Now” looks at long odds as no reason to quit. 

“In life, you just have to have hope no matter what’s happening,” Davis said. “You have to believe that there’s something that’s going to change or how are you going to convince yourself that something you’re working on is worth it?” 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Mikaela Davis and the songs we discussed, starting with Cinderella and those magnificent first harp notes. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.mikaeladavis.com for more.

Press Photo by Jamie Goodsell

Brian Kalinec is perhaps as close to the definition of a traditional folk singer as you can get. His songs are earnest and lyrical with sparse accompaniment aside from guitar and a piano. In an increasingly hostile and cynical climate, his reflections on racial progress and his friendship with his neighbor Henry seems downright quaint. But sometimes, especially in these times, it’s nice to hear a thoughtful piece about moving in the right direction.

“I was born into the change, but there was a lot of resistance to that change,” Kalinec said of watching the Civil Rights Act become law. “We’ve come a long way, but there are people who would like to see us go back to what they consider to be the good old days.”

Kalenic doesn’t exactly have his blinders on. He’s well aware of some of the regressive trends in education and muses on another track as to whether it’s possible for this country to become less polarized. He doesn’t answer the question except to say making improvements is worth a try. Speaking with me, a younger millennial, Kalenic indicated that he holds out hope for my generation. 

“My daughter went to school with kids of many different backgrounds and cultures and colors and she doesn’t see herself as special,” Kalinec said. “But when I was a kid, that demarkation was there.”

Much like finding hope in this news cycle, many tracks on The Beauty of it All are about extracting the joy from life, even if it is at times “aspirational.” The title track, in particular, shines with optimism despite recognizing that the singer has lived more of his life than not.

“As I get a little older, I recognize that I need to be a little more aware of everything, especially be more present,” Kalinec said. “I always want to be more present for family and friends, but also appreciate the beauty of the world.” 

In addition to the title track, Fix-It Man provides a particularly endearing look at an older man appreciating life despite some of the hardships that come with age. Big Hearted continues the trend of aspirational thinking and learning from younger, kinder viewpoints. Breakfast at Midnight is, if not the healthiest idea, then certainly a joyful one. 

If most songs deliver those messages in a simple, positive way, Two Roads provides the gut punch. A young woman with big dreams dies young after guiding an alcoholic neighbor to sobriety. Part of making the most of life is understanding it could end at any moment. Kalinec provides narration that he, like most people, aren’t trying to save the world or numb the pain. We’re just managing money and time. 

“We all think when we’re younger that we’re [going to save the world] and I guess some people are a little more successful at that than others,” Kalinec said. “The important thing is that we save our own worlds. That’s probably the most that we can do.” 

If that sort of reminder doesn’t help his listeners live a little more purposefully, I’m not sure what will.

Scottish folk singer Neev’s debut album “Katherine” is guided by clearly expressed deep thought. Many songs are reflections on relationships and the self. In most cases, those relationships or the character in the song aren’t in the healthiest of states. In some cases, the reflections aren’t the healthiest either.

“Fast Patterns” sees the a character struggling with a friend growing more distant. Instead of making some effort to reconcile, the song is a full on attack and a promise to make that friend change. It’s a last ditch overreaction that seems destined to doom whatever remains between the two.

“When I wrote that song, it was coming from a really ignorant and self centered voice,” Neev explained. “Every single line in the verse starts with ‘I think.’ If anyone’s coming from that point of view, there’s no agreement to be had. It’s me criticizing that voice. You’re never going to hold that person accountable because you’re not even thinking of them.” 

“Fast Patterns” isn’t the only time Neev criticizes unhealthy thoughts by expressing them, though it’s certainly the most effective. Other songs find effectiveness through more earnest expression and analysis. 

“The House” captures a relationship in a place where home no longer feels like a haven e and it seems like every move either party makes is just digging that metaphorical hole deeper and deeper. Neev imagined the central character as a 60s housewife (she’s from the UK; perhaps think 50s for American context) in search of liberation. 

“The character no longer feels home to be a safe place because they now feel it’s a place of repression,” Neev said. “It’s almost too small for them.”

Her observation is quite accurate. Nothing makes a space feel smaller than being trapped in it or sharing it with someone you’re uneasy around.

Neev’s voice is earthy and tender, something her instrumental arrangements match quite well. Both soft strumming and soaring strings work, though the understated sounds are much more common and hypnotic.

One song, “Without Warmth,” is truly special in terms of capturing healthy, rational, but emotional thoughts from the end of a relationship. The vulnerability and reflections on what’s failed are there, but the central character is able to frame the breakup as a gift and easing of burdens to the person their in a relationship with, and perhaps themselves. 

“The baggage that comes with spending time and having experiences with a person is that you feel like you have to hold onto those things in really petulant way even if the way you’re holding onto them might not be useful,” Neev said. “Bottom line, kindness and love are the most important things here, so how do we move forward knowing that?”

The fact that much of the album comes from a less healthy perspective makes gems like this and “Out of the Blue” mean even more. Moments of clarity somehow seem more valuable than clarity itself. Ending the relationship on kind, appreciative terms with well wishes and acknowledgment of the difficulties is the perfect way to end the album. It may be more of a dream breakup than a realistic one, but it’s incredible to experience something so nourishing, even if it may only be possible through well-written songs like these.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Neev and the songs we discussed, starting with Fast Patterns, which toxically describes how another person has become toxic. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://neev1.bandcamp.com for more.

In setting out to tell the story of Newton County, Arkansas, Aaron Smith consulted books, historians, and local legends. In 13 songs, he introduces listeners to generations of colorful characters, historical atrocities on large and small scales, and a folk opera about a man trying to find his lost sister. 

“Newton County seemed like a magical place where big things could happen, a rough place where tough people settled,” Smith said, “As I started to hear stories, they just started to resonate with me.”

Sam Davis’ story was especially prominent. The Legend of Sam Davis plays out over the album’s final six songs and presents most of the story from the viewpoint of the titular character. There are moments of brilliance, like Davis’ desperate scramble to find “Bent Twigs and Hoof Prints” in tracking his sister after her possible kidnapping, and moments that are somewhat difficult to stomach, like Davis’ viewpoint that the Native American tribe took his sister “in the flower of her innocence.” The truth, Smith said, is likely more complicated.

“There’s a lot of reasons to doubt whether that’s a fact or not. There were people who left white society to live among Native Americans and that may have been what Sam Davis’ sister did and maybe it was an effort to save face that they framed that as her being abducted.” 

Smith, a man of mostly white but some Native American descent, said he didn’t feel comfortable appropriating the story of Native Americans during the era his album was set. But he does convey the horrors of the Trail of Tears by singing about Henri Martain, a Frenchman who settled in Arkansas and married a Cherokee chief’s sister. 

“He has Cherokee family and he sees what they were put through as very unjust,” Smith explained. “His family, from the time they settled in Newton County, made every effort to live as white people and be perceived as white as possible.”

While Smith uses terms like “half-breed,” it seems clear that he’s speaking as people then would have and not personally expressing those views. That’s further substantiated by “Looky There,” a song that allows Davis to speak but also contextualizes him as someone viewed as somewhat problematic even in his day. Still, Smith told me he has qualms about the way Native Americans are portrayed in the Sam Davis story even if he did eventually use a version of the story that Davis would’ve likely endorsed.

“It’s not about whether his sister was willingly or unwillingly taken into that life, but it’s really about how Sam deals with a world he can’t control,” Smith said.

Smith also had some worries about the role women played on his album, but he was able to write a couple of extra songs to make their story more complete.

“I realized all the women on this album so far have been kidnapped or murdered and we need to have some other stories,” Smith said.

Granny Brisco more than fit the bill as a strong woman, though Smith had to venture into the 1900s to tell her story.  Brisco was a midwife who travelled on horseback to her clients and worked into her eighties. He also credits another song, “The Snow Child” to having reached out to a local historian for better stories about women.

“Women like [Brisco] have held it together for us for a long time, and she played a really important role and was a respected person in her area,” Smith said.

There’s no shortage of drama to be found in Newton County. “Ab Clayborn” tells the story of a man whose plan to commit a murder of revenge was foiled by the intended victim already having committed suicide. That didn’t stop him from unloading his gun into the body and setting fire to it. “Dead Man’s Hollow” shows a colder side to the community as a noticeably diseased man traveling through town was given no aid and ultimately left to die in the elements. Brothers “Curly and Tom” commit a murder, causing their family to flee to Colorado. 

Each of these accounts are told beautifully. Contemporaneous viewpoints and values are woven into the songs while modern commentary exists in the narration. Even the music aids in the storytelling. “Ab Clayborn” benefits from hard strumming as gunshots. When Curly and Tom are revealed to have grown up rotten, the guitar strikes a decidedly sour note. 

The album as a whole serves as one of the most enthusiastic and thorough local history lessons in existence. Though “Ab Clayborn” may have to be left out, it would be easy to imagine local schools calling Smith in to perform and share some of the rich context he learned in his research. It’s a wasted opportunity if he doesn’t.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Aaron Smith and the songs we discussed, starting with Henri Martain, which came along with a book about the Martain family. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://aaronsmithsongs.com for more.

On her standout song “She Don’t Know What To Sing About Anymore,” Rachel Baiman presents a bright musical character overcome by the weight of the world around her. It weaves autobiographical details into a story with a volcanic apocalypse that captures all the anxiety of the post-pandemic world.

“It came to me in a dream, the idea of the volcanoes, so I’m not sure why that happened but I can interpret it to mean that everything is going on at once,” Baiman said. “That was the summer when there were huge protests regarding racial justice and police shootings and it felt a little apocalyptic with the pandemic. But a lot of the disillusionment also comes with the current state of trying to be an independent artist.”

Unlike the character in her song, Baiman certainly seems to know how to write songs under the weight of a depressing world. Her new album “Common Nation of Sorrow” is another masterclass in political songwriting, a topic Baiman teaches to other songwriters.

“I’m always coming back in in my music stories of how people end up with hateful beliefs or stories of how people are affected by these systems,” Baiman said. “I teach political songwriting classes and a lot of times people get frustrated with me because I think they come to the class wanting to use it as a place to rant about their beliefs and what I’m trying to teach is how to convey something emotionally.” 

“Some Strange Notion,” effectively the title track, describes a world not unlike ours in which people have begun to notice the inequities around them and want to make a change.

“The notion that I’m trying to present is the shared experience of hardship,” Baiman said. “The idea that if you’re just sitting there alone and things are a little bit too hard, you don’t feel like there’s anything you can do with that feeling. But once you realize that everyone around you is feeling the same, then not only do you feel seen and more comforted, there’s also something to be gained from that. If everyone’s going through this together, then that’s an opportunity to make change.”

Baiman admits that perhaps we aren’t there yet as culture wars and tribal politics have distracted many people from realizing that the folks with the power and motivation to oppose their financial interests are the ones holding all the wealth.

“There hasn’t been an across the aisle realization of the way the majority of us are being taken advantage of economically. That feeds into everything. It feeds into anger and racism and misogyny. If people felt that they had opportunity and could build the life they wanted, I don’t think they would need to spend as much time on anger. 

Some of Baiman’s sharpest political songwriting comes on “Self-Made Man,” which effectively asks how many people need to suffer for one to become extremely successful. In the song, Baiman takes aim at the type of woman who’d marry a man who’s proven to be selfish and unconcerned with others. In reality, she sees a slightly more complicated picture.

“I don’t know that it would be as conscious,” Baiman explained. “It would be more that the way that the system are set up, if you have some money it would be very easy to make money. If you have no money, you’re constantly in debt and it’s really hard to catch up. So I think there’s such a thing as a well-meaning billionaire but there’s not a such thing as a system that maintains any fairness, at least in this country. 

One of the later songs on the album captures Baiman’s connection with music and, by extension, the relationship some of her fans have with her best work. Among the lyrics of “Old Songs Never Die” are “you can’t claim and you can’t own/ these songs that live inside our soul/let the money man try to gauge its worth.” Much like the music Baiman makes and sings about, it’s going to take an appeal to higher values to overcome the rules written by the men with money.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Rachel Baiman and the songs we discussed, starting with “She Don’t Know What To Sing About Anymore,” which certainly resonated with some of the darker periods of my life. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.rachelbaiman.com for more.

Jenna Torres crafted an excellent album in Heaven & Hurt with most of the songs falling pretty directly into one of those two categories. The first track, “Godspeed” tells the story of someone letting go of a love when she realizes it’s not meant to last. It’s definitely a song of hurt, but it’s more remarkable for the maturity displayed through the pain.

“That particular song came from a place of wanting so much to take the higher road,” Torres explained. “It’s so easy to feel that we own each other and that if you don’t get what you want that somehow things aren’t right. But at the end of the day I do think it’s important to release and to accept the way things are.”

Torres displays more maturity in hurt in songs like “Your Time to Fly,” a farewell to an ailing loved one, and “Just A Mountain,” a song about persisting in the face of very real struggles.

“I think it’s very important to acknowledge when a mountain is large,” Torres said. “Having lived as long as I have I’ve walked over many mountains. I’ve managed to get over many mountains myself and I’ve been with people whose mountains were so great that even as we attempt to ascend we know we may never get to the top. But what I’m trying to say in the song is that no matter how great the mountain, you still have to climb it.”

The heaven in this album comes in many forms. Prayers Up offers a literal moment of holiness in an otherwise secular collection of songs. But Torres also explores a less pure form of heaven on songs like “Tell Me In Kisses” and “Tennessee Heat.” In both songs Torres is direct about her wants and needs and tastefully sensual. It’s a mindset that she actually finds easier to express on stage than in real life.

“I say things and do things in song that I may not do in person,” Torres admitted. “Song is freedom for me. It’s the place I go to let it all hang out and be more easily seen. To be a fully empowered woman who speaks about her sensuality and desire openly is something I want for myself and all women, frankly.”

The songs play out a bit like fantasies, or at least aspirations.

“It comes very naturally,” Torres said. “Being a person who has a pretty vivid imagination and can direct a whole movie in my head about how I want things to go, I’m pretty good at conjuring up an ideal world in my mind.”

“Talk to the Rain” is a song that asks someone to step into one of those roles that Torres might cast in her imaginary movies: someone who’ll support her through the hard times.

“Being supportive looks to me like good listening,” Torres said. “It’s not so much about giving advice and telling people what they should do. But what a person should do is really up to them. Encouragement, energy, faith, seeing the beauty in someone. I’ve been very fortunate to have several people meet me where I am. Meet someone where they’re at and try to lift them from there.”

As much fun as a country album with typical tales of self-destruction and dramatic breakups can be, “Heaven & Hurt” is a refreshingly mature take on many of those same topics. Even the love songs show that Torres is a woman who knows what she wants and knows what she needs to do. And it’s absolutely to her credit that she can display these traits without sounding preachy about it. And while Torres likes to avoid the word ‘should,’ I have absolutely no problem saying that you should give this album a listen.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Jenna Torres and the songs we discussed, starting with Godspeed, which handles saying goodbye a lot better than I could. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.jennatorres.com for more.

Amie Miriello and Vanessa Olivarez are extraordinary country-rock harmonizers with lyrics and a sound that show off a bit of edge and a lot of heart, a combination that makes their songs feel like honest thoughts shared by a close friend. It’s what makes Boys Club For Girls so worth joining. 

The two spoke with me via zoom for an appearance on WUSB and often had me laughing. Olivarez went with large pink sunglasses and even larger and brighter pink earings while Miriello settled for a black zip-up hoodie. They’d often answer questions at the same time, sometimes differently. Miriello cursed just about as freely as she did on the album, recounting that they almost played their uncensored songs during a live radio performance on a different station. She described their relationship as like they siblings, though noted there’s sometimes confusion.

“People sometimes think that we’re together because when we sing live, I’d say 75% of the time we sing to each other,” Miriello explained. 

“There’s an intimacy about singing with each other and to each other that people sometimes translate as being romantic, but I think we are in love with the songs,” Olivarez added.

The songs range from mournful country to edgy roots rock and from introspective to funny. “The Weatherman,” the album’s most popular single, talks about unpredictable emotional turbulence by comparing it to the weather in Tennessee, which Miriello described as a “complete shit show.” 

“It’s like two seasons in a day here,” Olivarez said. “It’ll be warm and beautiful in the day and it hits night time and the sun goes down and it’s like winter. We really tried to take that idea and turn it into a song about how it’s difficult to control these emotions.”

Closest traces the mindset of someone attempting to engage in a dysfunctional relationship on a piano driven ballad that sounds sufficiently melodramatic for the topic being discussed.

“When I was younger, I didn’t think that a relationship was intense enough and the love wasn’t deep enough unless there was chaos,” Miriello admitted. “I think a lot of people feel like if it feels normal or it feels easy then it can’t be a big enough love. Love does not have to be chaos. It’s always going to be hard, but you don’t have to fight and make up to make things exciting.” 

“Eventually you just settle into a nice, slow kind of love,” Olivarez added. “I think even if you don’t think that’s what you want it’s what everybody wants.”

“Not Just Yet” showcases the duo’s typically great harmonies while also showing how they’re not always perfectly in sync. When I asked if understanding the idea behind the song, that you’ll eventually be okay after a break up, made the process any easier, the two disagreed. Miriello quickly said no, but Olivarez gave a full answer first. 

“It might feel black for a while like you’re never going to see the other side, but eventually there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and I think it’s important to remember that,” she said.

Miriello disagreed. “You know that you’ll be okay at some point, but I don’t think it makes it any better because it feels endless when you’re in it.” 

The two did harmonize on one point though. 

“Some people make it really easy for you to not grieve,” Olivarez said. Miriello laughed and nodded. I couldn’t help laughing along as well. 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Amie and Vanessa and the songs we discussed, starting with Not Just Yet, which is the mid tempo song of the three I play. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.boysclubforgirls.com for more.

Jaimee Harris named her sophomore album Boomerang Town after the town she grew up in. It seemed to have a certain gravitation effect on those who tried to leave and certainly didn’t impress Harris.

“It felt to me like a lot of folks who tried to leave my hometown ended up coming back, and ended up coming back pretty quickly,” she explained. “It’s not small enough to be a small town with small town charm and it’s not big enough to be a city. I think it’s not only common that you might feel stuck, but I think it’s common particularly in areas like this where the Evangelical Christian foot is on your face, that although the concept should be redemption that it’s harder to overcome that.”

The album Harris created is superb and weighty, tackling subjects like suicide, alcoholism, grief, and religion. It’s a reflection of not only her own struggles but the stories of folks from her boomerang town that she was so expertly able to inhabit. The title track is told from the perspective of a friend’s older brother who impregnated his girlfriend at a young age. Another is from the point of view of a mother who lost her young son to a bullet. 

Harris’ own story and that of her family is woven into the album. Though she managed to leave her hometown in her pursuit of music, a family history of suicide and alcoholism inhabits “The Fair and Dark Haired Lad.” The song captures at least three generations of pain, from her grandfather down to her.

“I’ve been in recovery for a little over nine years now, so my understanding of alcoholism is constantly changing,” Harris said. “I was able to see what my grandfather was dealing with and what other people in my family were up against. I’ve been privileged to have less of it, though my biology and mental health still goes there.”

Other standouts on the album include the comforting “Love is Gonna Come Again,” the boozy and hazy “Sam’s” and the deconstructionist “On the Surface.” But no song feels quite as raw as “How Could You Be Gone,” a portrait of grief Harris wrote with her partner Mary Gauthier, who happens to be a fantastic musician and songwriter in her own right. It describes what Harris experienced after losing her mentor Jimmy LaFave.

“Some days I can think about Jimmy and talk about Jimmy and I can hear him sing and I can laugh,” Harris said. “And other days someone can barely mention his name and I start bursting out crying, and her passed away in 2017. There’s several days when I want to call him and tell him that he died. There are all these moments when I physically pick up my phone and try to call him.” 

Throughout the album, the realness and power of Harris’ emotions come through on her well-constructed songs. Longer tracks feel epic in scope rather than drawn out and even the more hopeful tracks feel genuine and possible. Harris seems destined to become one of Americana’s greats after an album like this. 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Jaimee Harris and the songs we discussed, starting with the epic Boomerang Town, which serves as the title track. The interview begins afterward. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.jaimeeharris.com for more.