Category: Top Picks

Testimony can be a uniquely powerful thing. Rebecca Porter airs her struggles on her powerful debut album Roll With The Punches, but she’s not looking for pity. Whether Porter is outlining what not to do or expressing raw determination, she’s crafting a survival guide. It’s a portrait of someone emerging from the darkness of abuse who believes she deserves more with the zeal of a convert. It’s also a bit of a reckoning with cosmic justice: few albums have started with a more powerful first line than “God blessed the men who did me wrong too many times.”

The change in Porter’s thinking is most clear if you use “The Devil” as a starting point. 

“I kept excusing things that were happening because I had seen worse or that this isn’t something new to me,” Porter said when we spoke. This darkness included abuse inflicted on her as a child and violence inflicted on her as an adult. Somehow, she never let the darkness consume her. 

“I’ve always had this innate belief of hope,” said Porter. “Even though times could get really terrible, I just felt like on the other side of it was something better.” 

It took a long time for Porter to get from a mental health crisis to making music. Therapy, which hadn’t been much help earlier in her life, finally made a real difference. 

“I felt that I had moved on from it enough that I could use writing and music to further find my voice and keep pushing out of those cycles and away from the triggers that could easily take over an entire day or week,” said Porter. 

Porter’s transformation came in part as a result of her son. 

“Having my child and the journey that I’ve been on with him and needing to advocate for his needs has further enabled me,” said Porter. “I’m actively working to counter those experiences and trauma from my life to ensure his life is different.”

One pattern she sought to break was that of her parents, who got caught in a cycle of payday loans and bad finances. “Life grips onto two stubs in your hands/Interest running through your fingers like sand,” she sings on the album. Another situation she sought to avoid was bad religion. Exclusion and even aggression towards people who are othered is the sort of thing that’s left Porter conflicted on the topic. It led to particularly painful lines about the notion that others do not want her to exist.

“It’s very unfortunate, I was raised independent fundamental baptist. I was the only person other than my sister who looked like me in that church,” said Porter, of Pacific Islander ancestry. “It wasn’t until I went to public school that I really noticed a shift in how I was treated.”

During our conversation, she spoke most passionately when she imagined speaking to someone using their faith to discriminate. 

“What happened to you to make you so hateful and so mean that that is what you see in other humans,” asked Porter, who is non-binary. “There’s a huge demographic of people who are afraid of others because people have been demonized to them. It’s very sad to me. “If God is in control, then why does God let children get cancer? There’s this bigger reason, but queer people existing is not part of that? I just see people as who they are and who they tell me they are. It’s not for me to decide. “I don’t know if I’m in line enough with my spirituality to say if God makes mistakes, but I don’t consider people and who they are mistakes.”

Porters voice is clearest on the title track. She describes how much abuse and pain she swallowed, warning that she “almost died.” 

“Just holding onto the trauma and the cycles of abuse and swallowing everything that’s been handed your way will inevitably consume who are. It’s probably impossible for your self talk to be anything but negative and hateful,” said Porter. She credits therapy with a major change in her thinking. “There are times when I still have negative talk, but I understand that’s not how I should speak to myself. That was a learned narrative. I still have times when I have to remind myself that I am worthy of good things. I don’t have to do anything extra to prove that I am worthy to exist.”

Therapy has even allowed her to react to the blessings men who abused her have received. 

“If I’m focusing on their blessings and all of the good things happening for them, I might be missing things that could be happening for me or things that I could be working on to get out of the situation,” said Porter. “I spent so much of my life wanting an apology or wanting an acknowledgement from those men in my life. I learned that with many of them, that was not going to happen.”

Moving forward, Porter is ready to hold people to standards similarly high to those to which she holds herself.

“Safety is something that is a concern for me, it’s a concern for people I play with,” said Porter. “I’m not willing to chance my own safety or people who play in my band or family’s safety because I ignored those signs.” 

Rolling with the punches has meant Porter knows from which direction they come.

“You’ve been here before. You’ve heard these words from someone before,” said Porter. “Where did this lead in the past? I don’t have to just accept what they’re willing to give me.”

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Rebecca Porter and the songs we discussed, starting with Shadow of Doubt, which shows Rebecca emerging from a mindset in which she accepted poor treatment. 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.rebeccaportermusic.com for more.

On my radio program, I’m always looking for songs that can lead to a good conversation. Rarely have I met an artist who seems to value that aspect of their own songwriting quite like Coltt Winter Lepley. He writes intelligent folk songs that bestow dignity on blue collar characters and understanding to those suffering. A self-described member of the Woody Guthrie/Pete Seeger camp of songwriting, Lepley wants to create change through his music, though on a different scale. He repeatedly mentioned that he felt his job was to capture some sort of “universal human experience” and ease barriers to conversation.

When Lepley saw a good friend’s mugshot on Facebook for a drug-related offense, he decided to write a heartbreaking song about it. I got the sense that the minute he saw the photo, he began to consider a world without his friend.

“I think it’s a very human reaction to start the process of mourning. You try to protect yourself from those things,” said Lepley. “A number of folks I’ve graduated with have passed away from overdoses. I lost a cousin to fentanyl. I think addiction is super common and we should have a base level empathy for folks.”

The Rust Belt-based singer isn’t overtly political in his writing or public speaking, but he’s certainly active in combating addiction. It’s a problem all across America, but especially common in the depressed factory towns of his region. He carries Narcan and helped organize a conference at his college that drew participation from addicts, doctors, and politicians from both sides of the aisle. 

“I don’t know if they finally warmed up to the information or there’s been so many people addicted that you just can’t ignore the problem, but I do think things have shifted,” he said of the elected officials. “They showed up, and that was more than I expected, to be honest.”

Music fits neatly into Lepley’s brand of community building. His songs tell emotional, often personal stories and elicit strong reactions from listeners. Without knowing this, I wound up telling Lepley a bit about the way addiction touched my family. 

“If those songs inspire people to talk about things in a comfortable way, I think that’s the coolest thing in the world,” said Lepley.

Another track he said often leads to quality discussions is “Toilet Wizard,” a tribute to his plumber father.

“If a million people hear Toilet Wizard, dozens of blue collar father/children relationships will be healed,” Lepley theorized. 

The track celebrates his father’s work ethic and willingness to help a customer in distress no matter when he was called. There are hints that they didn’t always get along, but this song is all love.

“I got to see the trope of what a blue collar worker is,” said Lepley. “You go whether you want to or not. You put your nose down and work hard in spite of all those things. My dad was gone a lot of Christmases working on calls. I think my dad is the epitome of what a modern folk hero could be, with the problematic things too. He didn’t like the song at first, but now he comes to shows when I’m close and he asks for ‘Toilet Wizard.’”

The respect Lepley has for his father and his fellow ‘pisser wizard Merlins’ seems to be growing in an age where AI is replacing white collar jobs and making blue collar employment more secure and respectable. “It’s not so bad being a plumber,” Lepley sings.

“It feels like the respect is catching up in a way that’s important. I’m a big proponent of worker’s rights and the blue collar guys,” said Lepley. “Every worker deserves dignity. Every person deserves dignity.”

Lepley is certainly a student of folk music history. As we discussed the reality of AI, he cited the mythical folk hero John Henry and a song from the 1800s about a shoemaker facing competition from a machine. In certain professions, like his father’s, Lepley believes humans will continue to have a place.

“I think it’s going to be really hard to program a robot to diagnose a furnace and then fix it and deal with the customer on what quite often is their worst day,” said Lepley.

Though only six tracks long, Lepley’s debut EP runs nearly a half hour and features high quality songwriting. “I’ll miss the way your laugh was like fine music/conducted by a songbird driven mad,” Lepley sings on “A Tear Addressed To You,” a standout song about love lost. “Bandito should have the most radio potential and tells a dark outlaw story in a way that’s compelling and fun. “Doves and Pine Boxes” proves he knows how to handle a banjo and “Sunflower Creek” is a moment of relaxation on an otherwise intense collection of songs.

Lepley is truly an artist to watch. The songwriting talent is undeniable, and he genuinely seems driven to participate in music for the right reasons. Throughout our discussion, he consistently came back to the theme of providing a service of sorts to his audience. In this time of division, Lepley celebrates the fact that people in his community are still willing to help each other. He clearly enjoys the fact that his shows are a small part of that.

“I’m certain that there’s a lot of folks from both sides that come to shows, and they get along really well and sing together,” said Lepley. “Let’s retain that unity.” 

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Coltt Winter Lepley and the songs we discussed, starting with Toilet Wizard, a profane and loving tribute to Lepley’s father. 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.colttwinterlepley.com for more.

Photo by Adam Parshall

Brittany Davis explores the concepts of sightlessness, beauty, race, and history on her new album Black Thunder from a curious, bold, and blunt perspective: the singer, who was born without eyes, repeats the phrase “you get what you get, don’t throw a fit” often on the first track. 

While it also explores other subjects, “Amid the Blackout of the Night” spends time wondering about the world Davis can’t see. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s really a sky,” she sings on the track. The track, like others on the album, features a rhythmic piano that stays in the background while Davis launches into a magnificently long ramble that sounds almost like she hadn’t planned any of it ahead of time. This works so perfectly on this track. The questions come out so naturally, remain unanswered, and are then compounded by the next observation of moment of wonder.

The notion of cosmetic beauty, one Davis naturally has less experience taking in than most, is particularly of interest on the track. 

“We’re willing to take the initiative to change ourselves, to fit a mold that never existed, to perfect our bodies, our situations, our image, even to the degree of environmental harm,” Davis said. “We’re willing to commit genocide on certain groups of people just because they don’t look or don’t act or don’t function in the way that we see fit.”

Davis does not exclude herself from the criticism:

“There’s many things that I do that can harm the environment myself just so I can look cool and sound dope.”

While Davis never seems to engage in self-pity, she acknowledges that her life is a good deal different than others’. 

“I get treated like somebody that deserves less because I have two organs left than the average man,” Davis said. Still, her goal isn’t to reject beauty. “Image is not bad. To see things that are attractive to you are is not bad… If we can’t see the beauty of our mother’s smile or a friend’s laugh, then the stars will just be little dots of light… It’s how we handle the processing and the intellect that goes into who is or what is or isn’t attractive. That’s how we lose grip with reality because you don’t have this figure or that smile.”

A particularly fascinating concept Davis explores is that of “Mirrors.” Her inability to see may be most profoundly difficult when it becomes her inability to see herself.

“As a blind person, the entirety of how I see myself comes from other people,” said Davis. “For me it’s like a funhouse mirror. No matter what mirror you look in, you never see the same image. Some people will give me glowing reviews and some people will say you’re too fat, you’re too thin, you’re too black. Now my mental image and my spiritual image, and my emotional intelligence, that stuff, that I can work with.”

Davis, a deep thinker and profoundly curious, wonders if most people are also missing access to one of their senses. In this case, it’s one they should be able to find.

“It’s painful to see the depth of perspective that’s missing in modern society sometimes, at least on the surface,” said Davis. “I think all of us know better, but we don’t want to admit it because then a big piece of us would have to change.”

“Sarah’s Song” is a jaw-dropping, painful description of life as a slave that is explicit and over the top. It’s meant to be. Davis changes the way she speaks in the song to a style that’s much less refined. She’s officially stepped away from the microphone; Sarah is performing now.

“I was surprised at what she had to say,” said Davis. “For so many black bodies, minds, and spirits that were broken beyond our imagining, we had something to say in that studio.” 

She explains the change in presentation as both historically accurate and necessary to hear the perspective of someone deprived of a proper education. 

“Ancestrally, we were not given the power to speak in those ways,” said Davis. “We had to be dignified and polished even in our activism. We couldn’t fight if they get rough with us. But there was a need to deliver energy to the brokenness. I’ve never seen slavery in person, but it’s just baked in. Her story is a part of my story.”

Despite everything discussed in that song, and everything she’s hearing and having to comprehend now, Davis has a kind message for our country: “I love you America, and I hope that you learn to see yourself. I hope that you learn to love yourself despite the atrocities you’ve caused.”

“My bible tells me to love my neighbor as I love myself,” said Davis. “America is my neighbor. Despite all of her flaws, I love her and I see her because I know what it means to feel desperate.”

As matter of fact as Davis is about her lack of eyes, she’s just as sentimental about our nation. Of the two, the latter winds up being the more inspiring. If Davis can love and wish well on America, others should certainly be able to. She might not be able to take in the purple mountains majesty or amber waves of grain, but Davis can truly see our country. And she can see hope.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Brittany Davis and the songs we discussed, starting with “Amid the Blackout of the Night,” which wonders and indicts. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Tuesday at 12pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://brittanydavismusic.net for more.

Lily Talmers is a revelation on “It’s Cyclical Missing You.” In both her lyrics and performance, Talmers is intense, intelligent, and confrontational. She’s almost breathless at points. At moments, she’s scathing. Missing someone, some time, something, it’s exhausting. But Talmers shows it’s liberating, it’s revealing, it’s complicated.

We start with Talmers mourning a loss, “floating in a black ocean.” Her vocals are still relatively calm. She’s drawing her emotions from many places. 

“It’s both speaking to romantic relationships and the network of people you have one minute and is gone when you shift lifestyles,” said Talmers.“Having gone through the cycle of teaching in this really intense way and then closing it off, I’ve learned how it feels in retrospect feeling I could’ve done a better job being present with them.”

It’s when Talmers confronts her own role in these past relationships that the album is at its most emotional and compelling. Talmers directly confronts herself on some songs, always to powerful effect. On “I Missed You Today,” she’s waging war with her mental states past and present. “How I changed to earn your love./How come I did that for so long?,” Talmers asks herself. “Read my lips./You don’t miss/anyone at all,” Talmers tells herself, perhaps because it’s not quite true. The regret and the sense of loss are both real.

“You can indulge on either end,” said Talmers. “You can choose to repress the pain of memory by assuming that something was all bad, or you can idealize it and allow yourself to forget the bad parts of it. I think good writing takes responsibility in a way.”

Now when she sings “you don’t miss anyone at all,” Talmers feels she’s “extending an invitation to the audience” to join her in that freedom.

It’s in relatively few songs, “Man of Stone,” where Talmers truly explodes, though only in her mind. “I wanna shake you ’til you’re humble/I wanna sprinkle dust into your eyes/I wanna crack you til you crumble,” she sings. She actually shows him love and makes every effort to open him up, knowing it will fail and knowing she’ll have to leave. 

“How do you love someone who you feel you need to put so much work into educating how to love you back because they don’t even have the tools to even try?,” asked Talmers. “I oscillate between martyrdom and full generosity to that cause and then real anger and frustration.”

“You Can Do Whatever You Want To” is a standout moment on this album and an unexpectedly magnificent protest song. The options she offers at the beginning — a job at a factory, a demanding boss, a low grade hotel room — are less than appealing. There’s some illusion of choice, but it’s always going to involve barely staying afloat. The options she offers to the rich — malleable women, brazen destruction with no one to stop you — may sound more appealing to some while bringing out the moral horror in others. Even those living the American dream are causing someone else’s American nightmare. Between the lyrics and the strained vocals, this is the most cutting track of Talmers’.

“Being an American is a crazy thing full of wild paradoxes,” she said. “A lot of people I love really subscribe to the reasoning of the country and don’t have any grief over the way it behaves. It makes sense for me to communicate in a way that’s a little bit passive aggressive.”

In all the discussions of good and bad love and ways the world is messed up, Talmers produced a gem. “I don’t even know if I can claim to love people properly. But I think we’d be in a much better place if people thought that was a metric of importance.”

An old cliché of her father’s that states nothing is really that bad or that good makes for a sarcastic song in “The Big Idea.” Even after mocking the sentiment in song, Talmers can only manage to partially disavow it.

“Telling yourself anything that’s fundamentally true, you only half believe it,” said Talmers. “In these times especially, some things are really that bad. The song is trying to bring attention in a joking way to how things seem and really are often that bad.”

At the heart of all this missing and stressing, Talmers says there’s a question of faith.

“Do you understand that this moment is meant for you?,” Talmers asked. “Do you accept things as they are? Or are you going to try to force your reality onto it?” 

Based on the lyrics, it’s clear Talmers is still trying to decide. Toward the end of the album, she says that humans at their best are “beautiful and kind.” On the final song, she questions whether there’s truly any meaning to existence. A great, thoughtful album like this concluding with a bit of resolution and a bit of uncertainty seems like a fitting ending, if the album was meant to end at all. Including cyclical in the title of her album was no accident. Talmers intended her album to run in a circle, just like waves of grief that are only slightly more processed.

“Things don’t go away, but they’re going to be different on their next turn,”  said Talmers.

Perhaps this time, Talmers won’t try as hard to change others. Perhaps she’ll manage to change herself. Or, perhaps, she’ll do everything right just to wind up back again at track one. There are stages to this grief thing, after all.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Lily Talmers and the songs we discussed, starting with I Missed You Today, which explores the complicated grief that comes with missing someone who wasn’t particularly good for you. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Tuesday at 12pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.lilytalmers.com for more.

Sean Baker recently won four Oscars and the Palme D’Or for Anora, a tragicomic love story between a stripper and a wealthy Russian heir. He’s gained a cult following over the years for making films about people on the margins and finally broke into the mainstream with his finest work yet.

Willy Vlautin of The Delines was quite touched when I compared his work to Baker’s. Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom is an award-worthy masterpiece that represents the pinnacle of Vlautin’s career. Lead singer Amy Boone takes on the Mikey Madison role as the star giving that makes it all work. She also pushed Vlautin to write a few happier songs, something that made this project particularly special. All tragedy all the time is not as enjoyable to listen to, nor is it the most accurate representation of even most harder lives.

“I want a love story once in a while, I want a song where nothing bad happens,” Vlautin recalls Boone saying. 

In the form of the title track, he delivers. Like most Vlautin characters, Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom have their scars. Unlike many others, they’re treated to copious amounts of sex and happily ever after. 

“I guess it fell apart from there,” Vlautin admits. There are some fantastic love songs on the rest of the album, but always with a tragic edge. And there are songs with happy endings, but the characters have to go through hell to get there. But all the stories feel plausible and lived in. Aside from the villains, all these rough and tumble characters are written with love and respect. They’re meant to be rooted for.

“Her Ponyboy” stands out as the saddest song on the record for just those reasons. The two lovers are given a long, winding back story and a determination to travel together that seems more grand than foolish in Vlautin’s telling. So when one of them passes from an overdose, especially following that happy love song, it’s a gut check.

“A lot of the imagery comes from Portland,” Vlautin said. “Portland has an immense amount of young people living on the streets. You can’t help but to have that soak in to what you’re working on.”

The length and complexity of his characters stories are exceptional even in the world of roots music.

“I write novels for a living,” said Vlautin, who has several books to his name. “Amy will want to throw me out of a window half the time. Heck, my old band Richmond Fontaine practically did throw me out a window for writing such long story songs.”  

Songs like that may not be particularly commercially viable, but neither is country-tinged soul. If The Delines are going to produce a niche sound, they might as well aim for high art in their lyrics. Not many lyricists are more capable.

Vlautin’s devotion to his subject matter comes from personal experience. Many of his friends and the people he worked with in his youth either once were homeless, became homeless, or both. 

“I grew up in Reno,” Vlautin said. “At the time it was a town with a big segment of drifters, a lot of folks living out of motels. It was never lost on me how close it was from where I was living to maybe ending up in a motel. I’ve always written out of both romanticism and fear. I could’ve ended up like any of these characters. I possibly still could.” 

Part of what makes Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom such an enjoyable record is the hard won victories many of its women achieve. In “Left Hook Like Frazier,” a woman who’s survived a lot gives advice to younger women on the types of men to avoid. “JP and Me” shows a relationship that slowly soured, but the woman manages to get away and he begins showing signs of instability.“Nancy and the Pensacola Pimp” puts Nancy through a lot, but she certainly has her revenge. Same with the main character in “Sitting on the Curb.” “Maureen’s Gone Missing,” a song in which Maureen would certainly be in mortal danger, comes across as comparatively lighthearted and fun.

“I did that for Amy,” said Vlautin. “We both grew up with grifter movies. There’s a lot of grifters in this record. She said ‘Can’t a woman just get away with the money? Like really get away. And don’t kill her.’”

Vlautin did a great job not killing the women of Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom, but he was right not to listen to Boone too much about those happy endings. One character gets two songs and a story that’s less exciting than unjust. Somehow, it hits the hardest.

The tone of “Don’t Miss Your Bus Lorraine” doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the album. Oddly, this is a good thing. It’s the one song where the empathy and straight up storytelling Vlautin has shown himself to be capable of vanishes. In its place is the voice of society treating a released felon harshly. It’s telling her she can’t or shouldn’t make it. It’s emphasizing the pressure of every little action for a person on parole. In speaking to Lorraine that way, Vlautin gives his listeners the chance to be spoken to that way. It’s a completely brilliant detour that generates sympathy from a lack of showing it. And somehow the track also shows the life of a marijuana convict coming out to discover the world has had a complete change in attitude toward the drug but not her.

A few tracks later, when it comes time to close the album, The Delines revisit Lorraine’s story. “Don’t go into that house Lorraine” are the only lyrics. The music is slow and forbodding. Boone’s voice is exhausted and hopeless. After a few stories where the woman comes out unscathed, Vlautin throws us back into the harsh realities of life on the margins. 

“You’re not sure if she’s going to go in or not,” said Vlautin. “Amy’s voice kind of hints at what’s going to happen. She’s like an actress in a way. But it leaves that hope.” 

At that point, Vlautin started speaking to his character: “Lorraine I know it’s hard, just don’t miss your bus. Maybe you’ll get a raise, maybe you’ll get a better job, maybe you won’t end up living by a freeway your entire life.”

Despite having written the album, Vlautin insists he’s not sure of the outcome.

“You don’t know if the women in any of these situations make it through,” said Vlautin. “Half the characters will give in and will go into that house, you’re just not sure which ones.”

Ultimately, for Vlautin and his characters, it’s not clear whether it’s life imitating art or vice versa. 

“If she makes it, I’ll make it,” Vlautin said of Lorraine. “And if she doesn’t make it, then that means I’m not doing so good in my personal life.”

Vlautin thinks it’s quite possible Lorraine will walk into that house but immediately realize that it’s not the right place for her. Perhaps Boone isn’t the only one in the band hoping for the Hollywood ending. Together, they’re worthy of the Oscar.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Willy Vlautin and the songs we discussed, starting with Her Ponyboy, which Vlautin picked as his favorite on the album. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Tuesday at 12pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.thedelines.com for more.

A few years back, a broadway production claimed to modernize a revival of Oklahoma with a more fitting Americana sound and grit. Naturally, Kaitlin Butts went to see the musical she’s so fond of when it came to Tennessee on tour. She wasn’t a fan.

“I was excited to see how they modernized it, I was excited to see how they include a non-binary person and a person in wheelchair, but I was so disappointed,” Butts said. “They didn’t change the script at all but they were wearing graphic t-shirts. They were husking corn and spewing beer onto the audience. I felt like they were mocking it.”

“Roadrunner” is her own attempt at reimagining Oklahoma, this time with mostly original songs and a truly country sound with a few cinematic touches of rock and, yes, musical theater. The result for Butts is a classic that includes gorgeous romantic duets, a strong and slightly dangerous female perspective, and perfectly placed Kesha cover that ties it all together with profanity, threats, and unbelievable charm. More than anything else, Butts succeeds at imagining a country sound that trades in pop impurities for more natural influences and character driven story telling. 

Roadrunner is my pick for album of the year and should serve as a roadmap on how to update some of the richest sources of material in American culture without losing anything by adding a feisty new perspective.

“Come Rest Your Head (On My Pillow)” should be considered a new country standard. The bonafides are absolutely there. The song rests on a foundation of fiddle and steel guitar with just a hint of more modern instruments. While Vince Gill provides the backing vocals, Butts carries the song with a performance that’s beckoning and just a little sad. Butts explained she intended the song for her husband, but wrote the lyrics to be open to interpretation; the song works just as well as an invitation to a “midnight flavor piece.”

Getting Vince Gill to contribute to the magic and give it his stamp of approval was the result of a magical night at the Opry. Though she didn’t notice as it was happening, Gill was on the side of the stage watching Butts’ performance closely. Afterward, he introduced himself and offered a hug. The fact that she secured such an impressive duet partner and fan still stuns Butts. 

“It’s weird to say, but I opened my Spotify Wrapped to see that song was one of my top songs,” Butts admitted. “I listen to it so often because hearing his voice on it catches me off guard every time. Just to remind myself that I had Vince Gill sing on one of my songs. That’s not real. That’s a hallucination.” 

Yet most of the magic of Roadrunner comes from songs that don’t sound like country classics. A cover of “Bang, Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)” encapsulates Butts’ rock influences in a way that makes it sound like it’s playing at an arena or on the big screen. “Other Girls (Ain’t Havin’ Any Fun)” sees Butts arguing that she’s better off going after what she wants in a way that might not be considered lady like.

“There’s nothing I’ve ever gotten in my life that I haven’t charged for myself,” Butts said. “That sometimes includes men or job opportunities. I think if you go after what you want, you control your own destiny.” 

Tracks like “Hunt You Down” and “If I Can’t Have You” show a more dangerous side of Butts. Nothing shows that this update of “Oklahoma” has a thoroughly modern attitude than Butts declaring “If you fuck around, boy I’ll hunt you down.” The words were penned by none other than Kesha but sound more like a country song than you’d believe if you’ve only heard her hits. Butts said her lyrics about murder may not come from experience, but they’re a healthy expression of her genuine thoughts.

“The best way for me to get anger out is for me to write a song about it,” Butts said. “Then I get to profit off it. I’m gonna let God sort it out, because if I sort it out, I’m going to jail.”

“It’s the most fun thing that I can imagine to do is to just be passive aggressive in a sweet, southern way,” Butts added of her character’s tendency to have edge even when she wasn’t threatening murder. “You can say things delicately, but with a sword.” 

The final element that makes Roadrunner so uniquely charming is the way Butts mastered the spoken word. Whether it’s her snarky asides on “You Ain’t Gotta Die (To Be Dead To Me)” or the genuinely laugh out loud “Baby, I love you so much, don’t make me kill you” on “Hunt You Down,” Butts makes it clear she’s mastered the acting part of musical theater. She mostly uses her spoken lines for humor and making her characters feel more authentically sweet but tough, and it’s just one more reason that a musical makes for an amazing country album. 

“The humor is what I have always loved about theater and the story telling,” Butts said. “It’s such a weird comparison, but country music — they have so much in common. The way they express a sad song in a dramatic way. I definitely draw from musical theater when it comes to expressing that cheekiness.” 

The album closes with a song called Elsa, much like Oklahoma features a conversation with an older woman towards the end of its script. The story behind Elsa comes from actual experiences Butts had singing country classics at nursing homes.

“Whenever I would play old, classic country songs, their eyes would light up,” Butts said. “There would be people who weren’t quite necessarily in the room with us and they would wake up. It was so incredible to see that and how powerful music is.” 

Other tracks are worth mentioning on their own merits. “Spur” reminds us that people do better being respected and having self agency, especially in relationships. “Wild Juanita’s Cactus Juice” is full of fun alliteration and the sort of half-spoken singing that every musical needs. “Followed You To Vegas” is a shockingly sweet and tender happily ever after song. And “People Will Say We’re In Love,” the lone song from the original musical to make it onto the album, is sweet as ever with touches of folk.

If Oklahoma! was a romantic vision of what’s possible in the American West, Roadrunner is a charming vision of what Western music could look like borrowing the right touches of modern attitude and sound. Butts has produced great music before this, but she gains something extra from the winking relationship a musical has with its audience and the way 17 tracks allows her to expand the narrative and development of her characters. Roadrunner is a reminder that the mere presence of graphic tees or underrepresented characters doesn’t make for a modern story. Shifting perspective to a unique and independent woman with agency and confidence, however, makes for a beautiful work of art that both honors the spirit of the original and upends the norms of 50s culture. And not a single person needs to be drenched in beer.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Kaitlin Butts and the songs we discussed, starting with Other Girls (Aren’t Having Any Fun), which feels a little more school of rock than broadway musical. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Tuesday at 12pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://www.kaitlinbutts.com for more.

One For Jackie is a hard listen. It covers a suicide driven in part by childhood sexual trauma and the guilt and pain a surviving daughter is left with. It’s the type of raw and brave album few songwriters even have the opportunity to write. Unfortunately for Rett Madison, the material was all there for her to make the most of. 

Make the most of it she did. Madison’s writing gives flashes of what her mother was like in life, shadowy glimpses at a villain that may have been the primary contributor to her mother’s death, and an extraordinarily honest look at her own guilt and heartache. The fact that the stories are so well written and performed makes them all the more touching. For Madison, it was a unique form of therapy.

“After I lost my mom, as you can imagine, it was a really complicated grieving process,” Madison said. “My mom had struggled for a long time with addiction, with mental illness, and I think some PTSD from some trauma she had survived. I really leaned into songwriting as one of the most instinctive ways I process my emotions.”

Jackie was, according to Madison, a diva in sunglasses and leopard print, chain smoking and laughing her way through life. One of the most relatable moments on the album involves Madison seeing a leopard print shirt at a “Flea Market” and wanting to purchase it for her mother who at that point had passed.  

A less common but equally understandable song is “One For Jackie, One For Crystal,” in which Madison dreams of traveling back in time and killing her mother’s abuser. The violence is graphic and justified. The decision to put out such an intimate and heartbreaking track came down to Madison’s desire to support her mother even though she was no longer alive.

“I think after I unearthed that information I felt a lot of pain for her,” said Madison. “I felt a lot more compassion for her and the struggles that she went through even just raising me. I think less about my extended family when I write those songs and put them out. I think more of giving a voice to my mom’s truth and her story. I don’t want my mom to be silenced. Even though I have my own rage about that situation it’s more about giving power to my mom through performing those songs.”

Almost the entire album focuses on Jackie’s life story or Madison’s reaction to her loss. “Ballet” is the one exception. It’s a joyful tale of falling in love and flourishing under that gaze. 

“The experience of grieving my mom but also falling in love for the very first time happened to be happening simultaneously,” Madison said. “And also my partner played a massive role in helping me work through that grief and also healing me in a lot of ways just with their love.” 

A feeling of guilt is often mentioned, although Madison realizes now that she was not responsible for her mother’s death. Ironically, it was the discovery of her mother’s abuse in old medical records that both brought on a fresh wave of pain and set her free from an existing one. 

“I would say to anyone who’s lost a loved one that way: it isn’t your fault,” said Madison “I think a lot of us are left with no closure or no answers and the thing we do in the moment is turn the pain inwards. Unearthing that information that she was a survivor of childhood sexual abuse released a lot of guilt from my shoulders because I finally realized that my mother’s pain began much earlier than my arrival of her daughter. Obviously it was painful learning that my mother went through that but also having that information freed me in a lot of ways.” 

There’s really no easy way to explain or understand what Rett and Jackie went through unless you’ve experienced some form of it yourself. But for those of us who have, One For Jackie is an essential listen that can help provide closure in a way that few other works of art can. 

https://youtube.com/watch?v=videoseries%3Fsi%3DK1e7JCtB2hp0XsXu%26list%3DPLW_tTmGpyyHIFNB3LQ2e4Gbp4jqGZAmW9

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Rett Madison and the songs we discussed, starting with Flea Market, which might tell the story of the most emotion anyone’s ever experienced over an ugly shirt. 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.rettmadison.com for more.

If tragedy and struggles make for good songwriting material, it’s no surprise that J.D. Graham’s album A Pound of Rust is stunning. It opens with the title track, fulled with confessions and unsure thoughts he’s still having in his seventh year of sobriety. It lists crimes and insecurities big and small and the terror that comes with admitting them.

“I always knew back when I made this album that this would be the first song,” Graham explained of the highly confessional first track. “I wanted the listener to know exactly who they were listening to for the entire album. I bare my entire soul.”

Leading with “A Pound of Rust” is a practice Graham has extended to his shows and even speeches in front of recovery groups.

Graham was imprisoned for a DUI that resulted in another man’s death. It was an event that sent him to prison for five years and began his journey to faith and sobriety.

“My sobriety came through my faith in Jesus,” Graham said. “My recovery program is faith-based and I also have an accountability group that I talk to at least biweekly.” 

Some of the album is written from the perspective of a man still in the throws of addiction, others tell stories of users spiraling from a third person perspective. But nothing is as powerful as “Letter From My Conscience,” an extraordinary conversation between the part of Graham that hoped for better and the part that gave into temptation. 

“It came easy because it was the truth,” Graham said of capturing that internal conversation. “I’m constantly evaluating my next move and the choices that I make in real time. My sobriety and my clean living, it’s not something that I just think about a couple times a day. I hold myself personally accountable for every choice I make. Looking back I had every chance to make those changes and for some reason it took a long road to make those changes.” 

Graham credits his recovery to his Christian faith. He  mentions religion briefly in a few songs, though he never fully dives into the topic. He very much lives his faith and his dedication to the recovery community. 

“At shows I always put it out there that if anyone is struggling or needs a ride or just want to talk,” Graham said. “My phone number is on the internet. I never know who’s going to call. So I will answer my phone no matter what the number says on it because it may be some guy I met two months ago who let some of the things I was saying sink in. Maybe he’s got a couple weeks of sobriety and is thinking about picking up again. I was to be there as much as I physically can, even a stranger.”

Graham addresses loss in ways both inspired and direct. “West Virginia,” a song about two people involved in a missed connection missing each other again, is absolutely gorgeous. The story doesn’t have to be true to realize that regret and wondering what could have been with relationships he torpedoed were among the thoughts swirling through Graham’s head as he sobered up in prison. 

“Her Memory” is a touching song about being haunted by loss and “Growin’ Old” is a well-written look at a man who’s seeing himself age and degrade while watching the world around him change in ways he doesn’t understand. Long time listeners will probably guess based on my politics that I don’t share Graham’s nostalgia for when public schools led students in prayer, but it’s not hard to sympathize with him as a man who is getting more out of his faith right now than any other subject he was taught. English composition probably checks in at a close second.

Luckily, the news is not all bad. Graham seems genuinely happy with how life has gone since he’s sobered up and gotten out. 

“I’m a different person, so thinks I normalized back in the day make me feel uneasy now,” Graham said. “Coming out of prison, sober for the first time in my life, it’s almost like being reborn. Doing a lot of touring, I’ve been to some of these places before but I have no recollection of them. I’m seeing things that I’ve already seen before but for the first time in my life. It’s a beautiful thing.” 

He’s especially happy with how well making amends has been going and the progress he’s made in relationships with his family. 

“Every single one of them is better,” he said of those connections. “I had a lot of amends to make when I got out of prison. I went down the list and called them up and met up with some of them for lunch and apologized and continued my real life confessional. Now I have healthy relationships with boundaries.”