Country Pocket

Few songwriters are truly at expressing strong emotions with powerful and specific words. Few singers in roots music can sell those lines with the flare of a rockstar and the sincerity of an actor. Jett Holden seems born to do both.

The fact that we even have The Phoenix is a bit of a miracle. Holden had stepped away from music before deciding to give it one last serious try.

“I didn’t want to, but at the same time I knew I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t take the chance at least,” said Holden. “I’m grateful. I’ve gained a lot of community over the last four years since Black Opry was incepted.”

Holden’s debut album is a display of powerful, emotional songwriting on both the political and the personal. It features the unapologetic perspective of a queer Black man from the American South. It deals with both trauma and inspiration. He rhymes corpses and forceps. It even has lines like “if you think karma is a bitch then the truth is you may be a bitch yourself.”

When we spoke, Holden was pleased that I zeroed in on so many of his lyrics, describing them as his favorite part of the songwriting experience. He spoke as though sharing intense feelings and trauma was an easy thing for him.

“Writing’s the way I got through so much of my life,” said Holden. “Sharing it helps me feel like I’m helping someone else.”

The album can be divided between the fun and the intensely personal. “Karma,” featuring one of Nashville’s most visible allies in Cassadee Pope, is catty pop perfection. “Necromancer” and “Scarecrow,” which has fun with Wizard of Oz characters at an opportune time, get a serious point across but are more clever than impactful.

Then there are the tracks that hit like a truck.

Holden chooses to lead the album with “Taxidermy,” one of the most defiant political anthems in recent history. He calls out racism, police brutality, homophobia, and the empty posts of so-called allies before a pivoting to a third act sung directly to the sorts of people who are impacted by the hurricane that is American culture in the Trump era. 

“There was a lot of talk,” Holden said of our social media feeds in 2020. “There were a lot of faces on Facebook walls, but there wasn’t a lot of action behind those words.” 

He went on to explain that many people who posted a black square for a profile picture went on to vote for someone determined to stamp out Black history. 

“It felt like it could’ve been me at any moment,” Holden said of “Taxidermy.” “I was living in Northeast Tennessee at the time, which isn’t always the best to queer people or people of color. There was like one gay bar I could go to and I would hear the n-word out the window just trying to walk to the grocery store.”

The words of inspiration at the end of the song and the verse about a queer teen committing suicide are painful reminders that it’s not only the bigots who need to be convinced that other groups deserve to exist. 

“It’s kind of heavy handed, but it felt appropriate,” said Holden. “It felt like a cool opportunity to say something, but also leave people with a hopeful message at the end.”                                                                        

There are songs that go to even darker places. And yet, they’re all strangely hopeful.

“Perfect Storm” is Holden’s description of being in an abusive relationship and needing to get out before it ended in violence. He describes being struck with fists and discovering a gun. Incredibly, he admits contemplating an act of violence himself. “I am not a lamb to the slaughter/I have heard the banshees cry his name,” he sings.

“I had been in a controlling relationship and I feared for myself a lot,” Holden said. “It was the first time I saw what it was that kept people in abusive relationships and I was the person who couldn’t escape it. That song was me trying to pull myself out of that mindset.”  

As painful as the experiences in “Perfect Storm” are, it could be vital for someone else in the situation to hear how Holden managed to escape.

The song became a rock-laced piano ballad that saw Holden’s most powerful vocal performance. When it comes to emotional performances, Holden is as sincere as they come. 

“A lot of these songs are lived experiences,” said Holden. “It’s not difficult to pull from that in that sense. It’s more so about getting comfortable on stage. That was the difficult part.”

“When I’m Gone,” featuring Emily Scott Robinson in another stellar backing vocal performance, also came into existence for a tragic reason: Holden lost a friend to suicide and decided to write the note that she hadn’t. Holden experienced depression himself, so this had to be a difficult song to write. The result is almost unimaginably comforting for the reader of the note. “I know you believe in Heaven/but I believe in souls/they all have to go somewhere/and mine’s tethered to yours,” wrote Holden. Graces like a happy hereafter and a continuing love story are extended to the dead and their partner. It’s no happy ending, but anything that can dull the pain at that point is welcome.

The last truly spectacular song on the album is the title track of sorts. “West Virginia Sky” literally tells the story of the sun and a dying phoenix, but it’s truly about a husband losing his wife. The natural imagery is stunning and Holden’s soaring vocals match the moment. My only criticism is that it’s almost too gorgeous to register as the only truly bleak song on the record.

“I used to help my mom take care of my grandma,” said Holden. “She has Alzheimer’s and I watched that process. People deal with that all the time being caregivers for their family.”

It’s the perspective of the husband that makes the song so difficult to stomach. He’s watching his wife fade. He’s watching his relationships with his children fade.

“Soon he’ll reach supernova and his time will come, but what will be left of everything after he’s gone,” Holden asked. “A lot of times people say life is short, but life feels so long sometimes. Especially when they’re dealing with trauma or loss.” 

If one phoenix is the dying wife, and another is the title of the album, Holden admits to feeling like a third. His return to music was more than a career choice. 

“It was not just about giving up on dreams,” said Holden. “It was about not giving up on yourself. Your life is precious. The best thing you could do is fight for yourself and fight for other people following in your shoes.”

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Jett Holden and the songs we discussed, starting with “Taxidermy,” which is both a scathing protest song and a love letter to the marginalized. 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.missingpiecegroup.com/jett-holden for more.

Photo credit Kai Lendzion.

Progressive bluegrass is a genre all its own. The arrangements and movements are dazzling, complex, and imaginative. The lyrics, on many songs, feel like an afterthought. 

John Depew has the movements and the picking talent required to swim in the deep waters of the genre. He also has existential questions and hard won convictions about a few simple things that are important in life. His racing mind and the busy instrumentation swirl together on Bell of Hope. The result is strange and beautiful. It’s an album that features dozens on questions and maybe a handful of answers that somehow manages to satisfy. Phones ring. Eons pass. The natural world reveals its secrets. 

Put simply, Depew’s first full album is a magnificent high point in a genre that’s been too long stagnant and in awe of Chris Thile and jam bands. Depew’s voice sounds a lot like Thile’s, and the mandolin work isn’t quite at that level, but he thinks so much more deeply. 

“I’m maybe pathologically philosophical,” Depew explained when we spoke.

His first track, “Whale,” is about diving deep into his art as a way of life and a means of him supporting himself. He described the biblical imagery as familiar in his midwestern surroundings and said that while he tried to get on the phone with God in the song, his spiritual beliefs are more complex than the lyrics would suggest.

“When I use the word God, I’m talking about something quite a bit vaguer. I’m talking about whatever the creative force in the universe that makes everything happen,” said Depew. “There’s a certain idea in Christianity of God being this bearded dude. This person in the sky looking down on us with human-like thoughts going through his head. That’s not really what I mean, but I don’t really know what I mean.”

Regardless of who answered, Depew decided to climb inside the metaphorical whale. 

“It’s kinda freaking terrifying to leave a stable life and try to be a musician instead,” said Depew. “It’s a stupid thing to do. There’s a huge unknown, but I feel like I have to do this thing. There’s a place for me in this world, but I’m going to have to throw myself into it.”

Depew’s theory of life slowly becomes more apparent throughout the album. Nature is a source of inspiration and grounding, while natural history is proof of a greater plan.

“Anywhere you are in nature you can have a spiritual experience just by looking around,” said Depew. “I think it’s really important to recognize that although in a lot of cases it doesn’t always feel like it, humans 1000% are part of nature.” 

Birds in particular symbolize something important. He borrowed a concept from a Mary Oliver poem when he sang “They claim ownership of nothing/that’s the reason they can fly” on “Lesson.” 

“It’s very difficult for me to relinquish the concept of ownership as a white midwestern man from an agricultural society,” said Depew. “I really liked that idea when I read that in her poetry. The idea that freedom comes from letting go of the baggage that is our dominion over the world and letting ourselves exist.”

The swarming questions fade in the title track as some kind of answer emerges. Over the course of 12 minutes, Depew takes us through the history of the universe from the Big Bang to the emergence of human life. In the face of such a massive backstory, Depew feels as though ringing the “Bell of Hope” is all humankind can do. That can take several forms.

“The only thing I think I can really do is treat my wife and my kids with reverence and make meaningful connections with other people,” Depew said. “I think sitting in my bedroom thinking on these questions isn’t really going to do anything.” 

And yet in my case, it was all that questioning that sparked the connection. Depew saw our 40 minute conversation on topics ranging from the fabric of the universe to the strange rationals for genocide as another ring of that bell. 

“I could’ve written a 12 minute song about chasing tail in the bar and we wouldn’t have had this conversation,” said Depew. “In some ways ringing the bell of hope is just getting up every morning and trying to be a nice person.”

The last track, a celebration of good roots music, is a fitting way to close an album like this. “Joyful Sound” remarks on the way music can help us through hard times. Times are hard, but art like this is a powerful medicine. And the way Depew arrives at fairly traditional values through complex questioning of the world around him is decidedly refreshing. Even for radically different minds, time with loved ones is a common salve.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with John Depew and the songs we discussed, starting with Whale, which is one of many songs on which John respectfully uses Christian imagery despite having more complicated beliefs. 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://johndepewmusic.wordpress.com for more.

Most of the musicians I’ve interviewed on this show spend significant portions of the year on the road. A recent guest noted she played 160 shows in 2024 and immediately acknowledged it was a bit much. Bryant Roses is not one of those musicians. He works a day job and wouldn’t trade the road for the time he gets to spend with his three kids. 

The result is the type of album few touring musicians could produce. He dives fully into the small world of his home. Gardening takes center stage on a few songs. He documents the internal struggles and joys associated with raising kids like only someone fully involved in doing so can. 

“I like my domestic life and if that means sacrificing some of the potential success I’d have, I think that’s fine,” he said. 

He’s always enjoyed writing music and has used social media promotion as a way of sidestepping the touring. On his song “Small Star,” he celebrates the time he gets to spend with his wife as a result of his choice. He acknowledges that few will hear his music, but prefers that to being a bright shooting star. “We won’t burn out that easily,” he says.

“There’s a whole sea of small stars thanks to social media,” Roses said. “Anyone can make a song and have a million people listen to it and that’s more accessible to more people. Aside from all the pitfalls of social media, I do think there’s something beautiful about being able to make more artists.”

Artistry is something important to Roses, who has always been something of a songwriter. He started posting covers on social media and releasing new music in part to promote the idea that anyone can participate in something beautiful. 

“One of the reasons I started to pursue it again is for my kids,” Roses said. “It’s something that’s always been a big part of my life and it had taken a little bit of a back seat. But I really wanted to show my kids that you can pursue a creative life if you have a day job or aren’t living the life of a touring musician.”

The day job doesn’t get much mention, but the time with his kids certainly does. They’re the center of his world and he’s looking to make the most of his time with them. 

“Being a parent, you’re confronted with these moments of meaning that are so deep and so profound, but at the same time so fleeting,” Roses said. “The day to day life that may seem mundane are actually the kind of moments I want to stand in front of more fully and not just let them slip by.” 

“Hallelujah” is the closest he comes to complaining. There’s still plenty of appreciation, but the little difficulties get mentioning here. The title praise comes at the notion that eventually, he’ll get some sleep. This album is so noble and pure when it comes to parenting and love, so a little humor and realism goes a long way in making it relatable.

Gardening is a major part of the album, though the songs aren’t quite about maintaining a garden. In “Baby Redbud,” Roses is marveling at the experience of watching something under his care grow. It’s gorgeous to hear him sing about helping the tree through the winter and heartbreaking when he arrives at the eventuality that comes with being a parent: “I don’t want to leave but I got to.” In his telling, nurture is like watering a plant and pruning is a bit like stepping in when the kids are acting up.

“Exactly when it crosses the line gets pretty blurry when you have a bunch of boys laughing, and then wrestling, and then it gets a little too much,” Roses said. 

Echoing his father’s words, he noted that his role was changing as his kids got older: “As your kids age, the problems require a little bit less immediate attention but they get more complicated.”

The gardening metaphor extends to the internal struggles. Roses compares the early childhood years to a winter inside. 

“You’re focusing on keeping this small baby safe and fed and you just turn inwardly for an amount of time, Roses said. “When they grow up you slowly start to emerge into the world.” 

It’s not a coincidence then that he ends the album on a song called “In The Weeds” that marks going back into the world and the need to work on himself again. But that neat ending comes with a bit of a catch. At the time of our interview, the Roses had just brought their newborn third child home.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Bryant Roses and the songs we discussed, starting with Baby Redbud, which turns gardening into a bittersweet reflection on parenting. 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://bryantroses.comfor more.

Lou Dominguez is a folk musician who hungers for the type of folk musician he grew up listening to. 

“Let’s go back to the 60s/the village beatnik scene/when heroic writers still mixed politics with song,” he sings in “For Steve Earle.”

Lou Dominguez also happens to be that kind of folk musician. He didn’t expect to be writing for such dark times, but he seems more than up to the challenge.

“Barack Obama became the president of the United States and I thought maybe, maybe we were done with this,” Dominguez said. “Clearly we’re not.”

While he praises Steve Earle, Ani DiFranco, and Tracy Chapman in his music, he’s struggling to find a prominent folk artist who is at their most relevant today for writing protest songs. 

The key word here is relevant. Folk as a genre has faded in popularity and while some Americana stars have found mainstream success, songs about love, loss, and substances have driven them there. Adeem the Artist may be releasing some of the most brilliant political material ever released, but they’ve gained relatively little attention beyond the No Depression crowd.

Dominguez believes that this is due in part to algorithms deciding too much of what we listen to. 

“It becomes about the numbers and computers,” he said. “Companies are companies and companies are in business to make money. They’re less concerned with people’s feelings.”

This hasn’t deterred Dominguez from releasing his own protest music over the past decade and a half. Hangin’ at the Luna Star is one of his more varied works; it features a few love songs and happy stories along side the more characteristic protest songs, which Dominguez knows how to write well. His deep knowledge of the issues is made all the more impactful by the way he makes it clear how these problems can impact his listeners.

“Our Maldives” advocates for action on the climate to rescue low lying islands but raises the stakes for his home state listeners when he points out Miami might not be far behind. “The United States of Debt” makes brilliant connections. He illustrates how the working poor are bringing their little government support in the form of food stamps to the same superstores that are underpaying them in the first place. He also nails the comparison between what’s going on now and the company stores of days gone by, a system most roots music fans know of thanks to “Sixteen Tons.” 

“It was a problem then and it’s a worse problem now,” Dominguez said. “We have another version of it. You still owe the company store at the end of the week, you just owe it on your credit card.”

His most audacious act on the album was writing a new verse to Chapman’s classic “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution.” It’s a little more about cultural issues than the financial topics covered in the original, but it certainly captures the topics that most animate progressives today. 

“It’s no disrespect in any form,” Dominguez said of updating the classic. “I felt like that song was written in the 80s and we are almost 40 years from there now. I felt like there were new issues. It wasn’t me feeling emboldened to think that I can write something better than Tracy Chapman at all. I was feeling that there was new stuff going on and putting that into the song would make it more interesting.” 

Less expected for Dominguez was the inclusion of a few love songs, something he’d avoided throughout his career. They’re more melancholy than passionate but detailed and classy.

“When it comes to love, I’ve never come out on the side that wins,” Dominguez said. “My love songs are going to be a little bit sad. I’m probably guilty of part of that.”

“Eddie Went to Nashville” is an inspiring heartbreaker in which death isn’t the end of the joy a relationship brings. “The Runner Up” is a highlight for how emotionally intelligent the man is. When he finds out his first love is divorced, he leaves the bar and looks at the sky. The song might seem like it’s preparing for him to take another chance at love, but he ultimately just says a prayer for her. It’s gorgeous and somehow much more satisfying than a happy ending.

“That’s not real,” Dominguez said. “The real story is he knew that it was over years ago so he gave up on it, but he doesn’t have any less love for her. I think it’s a nice way of saying goodbye.”

Interestingly enough, he had originally written a song about a failed relationship where he did not come off well.

“‘Just Anyone,’ when I started writing it, I was just broken up with a woman who had a son,” Dominguez said. “I wrote it from my perspective. I was lucky enough to have a woman friend who didn’t smack me in the face, but she might’ve well.” 

He changed some details and instead sang from the perspective of a father and husband who felt like his wife held him low on her list of priorities. Suddenly he was more sympathetic.

Dominguez also tells two different stories of religion on the album. On one, he protests against a faith healer of sorts who profits handsomely from her work. On the other, he calls the words “thank you” his “Simple Little Prayer” and shows he doesn’t need a church in his life to feel blessed. Taken together, they’re a roadmap to a healthier relationship with faith than the most public advocates of religion tend to have.

An amusing highlight of our interview was Dominguez introducing me to the term “Trump Load.” As in, Dominguez has parents who a Trump voters who he loves very much. But as a result, he’s uninterested in letting other Trump voters in his life. He already has his Trump Load. 

Dominguez knows that things will be rough for a little while, but he said he’s optimistic. He said the next two years will be rough, not the next four, so he’s expecting strong results in the midterms. Even if Dominguez is right, I suspect there will be material for a few new protest songs.

Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Lou Dominguez and the songs we discussed, starting with For Steve Earle, an appreciative call for more protest songs in these difficult times. 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://loudominguez.com/ for more.