Photo by Lily Shea Long Mama doesn’t ask for your attention — the songs demand it. Stark and searching, cinematic and punk at heart, the music rides the tension between beauty and blunt force like it’s born from both. If you’ve ever had your heart cracked open by a stranger’s voice on the radio, there’s a good chance you already know what Long Mama sounds like. Or at least how it feels. Behind the name — both the band and the moniker — is Kat Wodtke (pronounced “Wood-key”), a Riverwest-based songwriter, vocalist, and storyteller whose music glows with both candlelight and wildfire. Wodtke (they/them/she/her) is Long Mama — and Long Mama is a vessel for the kind of truth-telling that doesn’t blink. “It was always just me and whichever group of friends I could cobble together to play with me,” Wodtke says of the early days, playing solo in Milwaukee and Alaska bars and cafés. “Our name was always changing.” But something shifted when the current band began to take shape with collaborators Nick Lang and Andrew Koenig. “We started to feel like something special was going on in the room when we played together,” Wodtke remembers. “They are such good listeners and patient, open collaborators.” So came the name — unearthed, fittingly, from a night spent researching cactus varieties. “I spent a whole night looking at common names for different cacti and learned that a ‘long mama’ cactus prefers shade to sun and can survive cold weather. It felt right for an alt-country band from snow country,” they say. “The cactus itself also looks like a very prickly/angry piece of human anatomy, which resonated with me in particular. I am not a songwriter who is afraid to provoke or ruffle feathers. It is a musician’s job to make people think and stir the pot.” That blend of toughness, dark humor, and survival threads through everything Wodtke writes. On Poor Pretender, Long Mama’s debut full-length album, songs crackle with stories that are as lived-in as they are literary. No wonder. Wodtke’s roots are steeped in books and storytelling as much as in music. “I am such a nerd and proud of it!” they say, laughing. “I can’t thank my cool parents enough for instilling a love of reading in me and also a deep appreciation for the arts and the outdoors. They gave me a lot of freedom to run around in the woods as a kid and cultivate my imagination and curiosity.” While Wodtke studied Theatre Arts in Minneapolis and grew up in a home spun with Carole King, Aretha Franklin, and Bach, they found a love for the unvarnished poetry of punk and country in high school. “A bunch of my friends played in punk bands that would perform in basements or garages,” they say. “No one I knew played in a country band, but we started listening to the old (good) stuff and also discovered newer artists like Caitlin Rose, Rachel Ries, Bright Eyes, Mountain Man, and Jolie Holland.” What drew them in wasn’t just the sound — it was the shared ethos. “I think I was excited to find folk and country music that sounded great and had the subversive ethos of punk,” Wodtke says. Long Mama’s genre-bending songs — gritty and graceful, punk-rock and twang-tinted — come together not by planning, but by following instinct. “It’s very organic. We experiment, play, and arrange until it feels right,” they say. “We try not to think about genre and let the song lead the way. My musical collaborators do an incredible job of underlining certain lyrics or capturing a setting or feeling with the way they play.” The way Poor Pretender was recorded reflects that approach — live, in the same room, in the middle of a snowy weekend, with just enough warmth and grit to feel like an attic session shared with friends. “Our co-producer and engineer Erik Koskinen has a great studio for live recording,” Wodtke explains. “It also feels like a cozy, northwoods cabin inside, so we felt right at home there… I think the album captures what we sound like live, which is really cool and an increasingly rare way to record. It doesn’t sound overproduced. It sounds like us.” You hear it in the breath between notes. The banjo that sneaks in late. The laugh that nearly breaks mid-verse. These are not pristine, polished songs; they’re lived-in — wrinkled, bruised, tender — exactly how Wodtke intends them to be. “I find tenderness to be gritty and brokenness to be really beautiful,” they say. “Life is messy, and hard things can be equal parts excruciating and hilarious. So it’s not tension for me. I think these things co-exist in the human experience.” Much of Poor Pretender was shaped in the wake of loss — a dear friend’s passing that shifted Wodtke’s songwriting from cautious to candid. “I think I became more willing to be open and vulnerable about mental health in my writing,” they share. “My friend who died was battling depression, and I found myself struggling with that a lot in the wake of losing her… I think a commitment to music became more deeply rooted in me. Not necessarily as a career path but as something I will always need to experience and make.” Grief and joy don’t exist separately in Wodtke’s writing — they collide. And in that mess, Long Mama finds its voice. “Grief and joy are so interconnected. Each deepens the other,” they say. “I just try to be honest and plain-spoken about it in my songwriting. No human is just one thing, and no song needs to be just one thing. We can be many beautiful, broken, tender, gritty things at once.” That philosophy pulses through every Long Mama track, whether it’s the ballad of a busted romance or the imagined voice of a ghost wandering a prairie. Wodtke builds characters and sketches scenes like a playwright with a steel-string guitar, unafraid to drift from the autobiographical to the fantastical if it means hitting something true. “With my songs, I like to experiment with inhabiting characters in the first person (see ‘The Narrows’) or making a semi-true story larger than life (see ‘Badlands Honeymoon’),” they say. “I also like taking something really mundane and mining it for beauty or meaning.” In the hands of a lesser songwriter, it might all fall apart. But Wodtke makes it stick — not by smoothing the edges, but by sharpening them. “I just love taking in any kind of art — it cracks open my brain in the best way possible, and I feel like I can’t not riff in my own work on whatever it made me feel or think about.” In Riverwest, not far from the Milwaukee River where they grew up, Wodtke writes in the drafty attic they’ve made their creative home. They rake through notebooks, seeking not perfection but presence — songs that feel like showing up, again and again, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Long Mama’s music isn’t background. It’s the kind of sound that sits with you — when the fire goes out, the friends leave, the whiskey hits, the silence closes in. It knows what you’ve lost, and what you still have to give. And maybe that’s why it sticks.

“It’s been an interesting year,” says singer-songwriter Jack McKeon, who, just a few years back, hitched his Honda Civic to a five-by-eight U-Haul trailer and headed to Nashville in pursuit of getting his songs heard. Armed with a talent for storytelling, he left behind his small hometown of Chatham, New York. Three years later, McKeon self-financed his debut album, Talking To Strangers, earning praise for its song lyrics, musical arrangements, and blend of bluegrass, country, and folk-rock. To keep things afloat, he works as a carpenter while balancing his schedule with writing, touring, and, more recently, playing with other artists. “I kind of stumbled into playing in other people’s bands,” says McKeon, who just finished a string of shows on the West Coast. “I was out there [California] for a week playing guitar and singing harmony for Fancy Hagood. It’s crazy because in the middle of the tour, I flew to South Carolina to do one of my shows. “It’s tough playing in a bluegrass band,” shares the Nashville resident. “This is not a dis on Americana or country, but the bar is so high for instrumentalists in bluegrass. I kind of left that door closed,” says McKeon, who also plays mandolin. McKeon is grateful for the invitations. “I was like, ‘I’m gonna say yes and if I blow it, then that’s that.’ I can learn how they run their band, how they book their shows and how they book their tours,” shares McKeon. “All these opportunities are coming from artists who I really respect and appreciate.” Being independent has its ups and downs. “I’m as independent as they come these days. I think it’s difficult to grow as an artist when you are juggling so many things. It’s a rite of passage for so many artists, though. Honestly, I’m not very good at it,” explains McKeon about being his own booking agent. “It’s one of the hardest things for an independent artist.” McKeon says he benefits from house shows. “Those shows are so important, especially when you are at a [lower] level. I was down in Kerrville, Texas, playing the Kerrville Folk Festival when I met a guy who hosted me at a house show in Austin.” Going on, “There was a lady at the show who really loved it, and she ended up inviting me and another Austin songwriter to perform at her house show. It was only fifty people, but it was a great way to connect to a new audience.’” The songwriter says he is always welcomed in Texas when traveling around the country. “I’ve always done decent in Texas. They love songwriters, and I have always had a receptive audience there.  I have done a lot of songwriter contests in Texas, like the Kerrville Folk Festival. Texas is just one of those states that cares about live music in general—especially anything country or country-leaning.” McKeon’s storytelling lyrics and rural North American accent combine to create his unique style; something he admits that he never worried about. “I think it’s more intuitive to let the songs that you are writing lead you to your style. The first record, Talking to Strangers, has straight-ahead bluegrass moments, stripped-down singer-songwriter moments, and songs that probably could have had pedal steel and drums on them. “I want my style to be defined as something that remains fluid,” shares the independent artist. “This batch of songs that I hope to have finished in the next month is a departure from my first album. It has a wider range of influences.” McKeon cites John Hartford as a major influence on his music. “My best friend’s parents were hosting a picking party, and there was a band there that played the John Hartford song, ‘Up on the Hill Where They Do the Boogie,’ and it blew my mind! The music was rooted in a history I knew nothing about.  I would listen to John Hartford’s Aereo-Plain  album and hear Norman Blake, then find out that Blake made a record with Tony Rice. It was amazing!” The native New Yorker doesn’t regret moving to Nashville. “If you expose yourself to other writers, you are going to get better by osmosis. I am so grateful and lucky to fall into the group of songwriters I met here in Nashville.  I took the same crappy Honda Civic I’m driving now and moved my whole life down here. It’s just an amazing place!”

The Appalachian Mountains come alive each year with festivals that reflect the region’s deep cultural traditions and creative spirit. From music and storytelling to agriculture and harvest, these gatherings highlight what makes Appalachia one of the most distinctive cultural landscapes in the country. Here’s a guide to uniquely Appalachian festivals worth planning a trip around in 2026. Spring: Big Ears Festival — Knoxville, Tennessee (March 26–29, 2026) Spring in Appalachia begins with a celebration that has earned an international reputation while staying true to its mountain roots. The Big Ears Festival transforms downtown Knoxville into a citywide stage, filling historic theaters, churches and intimate clubs with sounds that range from traditional mountain ballads to avant-garde jazz and experimental compositions. What makes Big Ears uniquely Appalachian is the way it embraces innovation while honoring tradition, echoing the creativity that has long flourished in the mountains. For four days, Knoxville becomes a cultural crossroads, welcoming visitors from around the world while shining a spotlight on the region’s spirit of artistic exploration. Summer: Nelsonville Music Festival — Nelsonville, Ohio (June 18–20, 2026) As the Appalachian foothills turn lush and green, music lovers gather in Nelsonville, Ohio, for a festival that blends nationally known acts with the sounds of the mountains. The Nelsonville Music Festival, held at the Snow Fork Event Center, offers four stages surrounded by forests and open fields. Festivalgoers can camp under the stars, wander through artisan markets, and savor food from local vendors while discovering both established headliners and emerging Appalachian voices. With its balance of national reach and local authenticity, Nelsonville has become a summer tradition that captures the community spirit of Appalachia. Late Summer: Appalachian Fair — Gray, Tennessee (August 24–29, 2026) The Appalachian Fair in Gray has marked the end of summer for generations, offering a weeklong celebration of agriculture, music and heritage. Now more than a century old, the fair combines carnival rides and midway games with a strong emphasis on the traditions that define mountain life. Livestock competitions, agricultural exhibits and craft demonstrations connect visitors to the skills and practices that have shaped Appalachian communities. Each evening, music takes center stage, often featuring bluegrass, gospel, and country performers whose songs echo the region's stories. The Appalachian Fair is a reminder that these roots remain vital to life in the mountains today. Fall: National Storytelling Festival — Jonesborough, Tennessee (October 2–4, 2026) As the leaves turn and a chill enters the air, Appalachia turns its attention to the art of storytelling, a tradition deeply embedded in the culture of the mountains. The National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee, is the pinnacle of this celebration. Since its founding in 1973, the festival has drawn thousands to Tennessee’s oldest town to gather under tents and listen to tales that range from folktales and ghost stories to personal narratives. Though the festival now attracts tellers from around the world, its Appalachian heart remains strong, honoring the voices and cadences that have echoed through the mountains for generations. Fall: West Virginia Pumpkin Festival — Milton, West Virginia (October 2026) Autumn in Appalachia would not be complete without a harvest festival, and the West Virginia Pumpkin Festival delivers with community pride and seasonal charm. Held in Milton, this event showcases giant pumpkins, vibrant displays, and contests, but what makes it distinctly Appalachian is its focus on local artisans, traditional crafts and bluegrass music. Families flock to the festival to enjoy homemade foods, watch craft demonstrations and celebrate the bounty of the season. For many, it has become an annual tradition that captures the warmth and beauty of fall in the Mountain State. From the first notes of a fiddle in the foothills of Ohio to the towering pumpkins of West Virginia, Appalachian festivals in 2026 offer more than entertainment. They provide a window into a culture that has been shaped by mountains, rivers and generations of artisans, musicians and storytellers. Each event captures a different facet of the region’s identity, whether it’s the experimental sounds and international artistry of Knoxville’s Big Ears Festival, the harmonious blend of local and national music at the Nelsonville Music Festival, the enduring agricultural traditions and bluegrass tunes of the Appalachian Fair, or the timeless art of oral storytelling in Jonesborough. The West Virginia Pumpkin Festival adds yet another layer, celebrating harvest, craft and community spirit with a distinctly Appalachian flair. Together, these gatherings offer travelers and locals alike a chance to experience the heart of the mountains firsthand, to immerse themselves in traditions that continue to thrive and to connect with communities that welcome visitors with warmth and pride. Planning ahead ensures you can attend the events that resonate most, from the small-town charm of a pumpkin festival to the city-wide spectacle of Big Ears. In 2026, Appalachia is ready to share its music, stories, and heritage — each festival a living reminder of why this region’s culture remains vibrant, authentic and unforgettable.

Elephant Revival has always carried a certain mystique. Their music—often called “transcendental folk”—is a blend of Celtic reels, Americana grit, bluegrass tradition, and ethereal tones that drift into indie rock territory. This audience connection stems from the band members’ intention to create not just a set of songs, but an experience. As for the band name, the story begins not with a stage but with elephants in a zoo. “Our bassist, Dango Rose, was busking at the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago in front of the elephant cage,” said Bonnie Paine, the band’s voice and main soul. “He told me about two elephants that had lived together for 16 years. One of them was bought by the Salt Lake City Zoo, and sadly, it died during transport for unexplained reasons. The other elephant also died shortly after, and Dango’s theory was that it was from heartbreak. They’re tribal creatures, not meant to be kept in cages, and especially not separated once they bond.” That story was followed by a simple text about an “elephant revival concept” with dates and venues. “I thought, that’s an interesting name, and we’ll just put it in as a temporary name for those shows. And then we never changed it.” Finding the Fearless Sound The official first show came at the Gold Hill Inn in Colorado in 2006, where everything clicked into place. “It was beautiful, exciting, and so different from anything I had ever played. I had just started singing more and really felt my place in the music with my voice. It felt fearless, which was such a change for someone who had always been pretty shy.” Bonnie’s influences reached back to her family home. “I grew up playing music with my sisters. We used to back up this old fiddle wizard—people called him the Jimi Hendrix of the fiddle—Randy Crouch. He definitely influenced me. My dad also had this phenomenal record collection with Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Muddy Waters, Joni Mitchell—anything I wanted to listen to. That was really inspiring.” Those sounds mixed into the musical bouillabaisse, along with Radiohead, African drum troupes, and the Celtic tradition brought in by fiddler Bridget Law. “I love percussion instruments—it’s fun to sing with them. And the musical saw adds its own little effect on the music, of course.” Songs as Ceremony Elephant Revival’s concerts are famous for their atmosphere, which is a quality Bonnie likens to ritual. “We want to create an enveloping experience. I’ve played music at a few births and a few deaths, and it’s a similar feeling of setting a tone, having a little ceremony together, and letting music be the conduit. I try to stay open to how the music wants to move through the room. There’s this reciprocated energy between the audience and the band that can grow and grow throughout the evening, almost becoming tangible by the end of the night.” That sense of fragility came into sharp focus after a near tragedy in 2016, when the band’s bus caught fire before a show. “I kept having this recurring dream on the bus while we were driving. So, then we’re driving along, and I hear this hissing sound from my bunk, and I realize it was fire at my feet in the bunk below me. It was an electrical fire. I woke up and we all ran off the bus. Most of our instruments burned because our driver wouldn’t let anyone go back on board.” With the bus still smoking outside the Hickory, North Carolina venue, the band borrowed instruments from fans and even an antique store. “I found an old washboard in a shop since mine had burned, and somehow my musical saw survived. With that, we were able to play the show that night. We were a little shell-shocked, but we did it.” Petals,  Cello, and Storysongs The band’s last album, Petals (2016), carried a deep vulnerability. “That album was a very different kind of opening up for me. It was the first time I performed on cello in front of anyone. Until then, I had only ever played it alone, and it felt almost impossible to imagine playing it in public. It was my first melodic instrument in the band, instead of percussion, and it gave me a new way to convey songs.” Those songs, she says, were part of a much larger cycle she has been crafting since childhood. “I’ve been writing a story-song cycle since I was a little girl, and there are now 28 songs in it. Three of them ended up on Petals. The main character is Raven, and part of the story is about a selkie—a water spirit—who falls in love with a human. It’s a long saga that begins there.” Rain at Red Rocks, and What Comes Next Perhaps no show sums up Elephant Revival’s magic better than Red Rocks in 2017, played in a downpour. “It was so beautiful. One thing I love about the rain is that everything suddenly feels more connected, almost like an electrical current that runs through it all. There’s a palpable awareness of being in it together, and at Red Rocks, with water on the stones and that many people sharing the moment, it was just gorgeous.” After a hiatus in 2018, the group reunited in 2022 with guitarist Daniel Sproul replacing Daniel Rodriguez. “The other bandmates’ enthusiasm for the music was so strong and sweet. When we got together, it just fit beautifully, and we remembered the love we had for playing together.” The band has been back in the studio with producer Tucker Martine, a dream collaboration years in the making. “Recording with Tucker was seamless, playful, and very beautiful. We’d wanted to work with him for a long time, and it was such an honor.” For Bonnie, the future feels wide open. “The most amazing things that have happened in my life weren’t things I could have dreamed of exactly as they turned out. You just never know. The new songs we started recording are going to be beautiful, and I’d love to expand on our collaborations with the Colorado Symphony. We played with them recently, and the sound was incredible—I’d love to have orchestrated recordings of that someday.” Elephant Revival remains a band that turns stages into ceremonies, melodies into lifelines, and hardship into song. As Bonnie puts it, “I feel this effortless connection when we play live. It amplifies the music in a whole other way. The reciprocation between us and the audience is really beautiful.”

Fulfilling her lifelong ambition, Twin Cities singer-songwriter Clare Doyle enjoys the road alongside her friend and fellow Minneapolis music artist, Michael Gay.   “I’ve been focusing on touring,” shares the native Saint Paul, Minnesota songwriter.  “We’re [playing] New Orleans, Birmingham, Nashville, St Louis, Kansas City and a couple of stops in Nebraska.” Doyle was delighted to be among the star-studded performers at The Blue Ox Music Festival. “It’s just a really beautiful experience, and it was a lot of fun.”  Sharing the stage with legends Sam Bush and Peter Rowan along with modern acts Molly Tuttle and Golden Highway was a performance highlight. “I was honored to be a part of the lineup.” Launching her career in 2022, she was named one of First Avenue’s Best New Bands of 2023 and Emerging Artist of 2024 by Music in Minnesota. Doyle, who has an EP and a handful of singles, says many people are unfamiliar with her music. “It takes a lot of footwork to build a crowd. There are a few audiences now that know certain songs, but for the most part, we are playing to crowds who are hearing the songs for the first time,” explains Doyle, who is actively building her following. Most of her fan base is in her hometown. “In Minneapolis, where I started, there is more name recognition,” adding, “Anywhere someone is based is going to be their biggest draw.” The Saint Paul native says she wants to revisit areas. “We are working on coming through the same towns a couple of times a year.”  “You just have to play where you can, " Doyle explains when asked about different audiences. “We play in a lot of different types of rooms. We’ll be in a barbecue joint one night, a listening room the next, and a honkey tonk after that. You have to read the room and go with it.” Doyle reveals that motels are not the only place to stay on the road. “If we have friends who live in the [towns] we’re playing, we will crash at their house,” shares the singer. As a former event coordinator, Doyle is familiar with the traveling lifestyle. “I wasn’t playing out until a few years ago, but prior to that, I was working on the road a lot with event productions. Doyle admits that she needs more time to write songs. “I try to do a little bit of writing consistently. It’s been a busy summer, so I haven’t done as much as I’d like to. I’m going to slow down in the fall and focus more on writing. “It’s tough spending so much time in the business side of [music] and have to flip your brain over and be creative.” Doyle says new songs have to fit. “As soon as I finish a song, I will try it out with the band, and if it’s a good fit, we will throw it into the set,” shares Doyle. “Half the set are… songs we haven’t recorded yet. It’s exciting to bring a new song to the band and hear it come to life!” Although she released her EP Stranger in 2024,   Doyle is not ready to record an album.  “We currently don’t have anything else recorded. It takes a [long time] to get a record together. I am looking at being able to do it at some point. My goal for the next record is to be really intentional about it. I want it to be cohesive.” Doyle, whose struggle with self-doubt caused her to quit music in the past, feels that playing has been a huge help. “It was definitely a stronger presence when I first started playing again,” Doyle recalls about her low self-esteem.  “Playing music has been very healing. I had to confront that head-on. Playing has given me a reason to dismantle those beliefs.” The Minneapolis native shares that the years spent away from music had an effect. “I felt like once I did start playing I had to make up for lost time. “I want to take the next couple of months and slow down with shows. I’m hoping to focus more on writing and being creative as opposed to running a business. “I hope what comes out of it is a deepening relationship with my songwriting—maybe even some good ideas for a record.”

Don’t try to put Mike Savino in a box. He performs as Tall Tall Trees, a name spurred by a tune written by Roger Miller and George Jones. Inspired by the pioneers of experimental banjo music (Rhiannan Giddens, Bela Fleck), Savino is a one-man psychedelic indie-folk orchestra. That box had not been invented until Savino’s experimental nature created it. He plays his music on his “Banjotron 5000,” and has been described as “a new age Cat Stevens with dreamy harmonies.” In other words, while it may be complex, Savino’s music is easy to listen to. “Not fitting in a box has been both a blessing and a curse,” he says. “I’ve always been a bit of a musical explorer, and that tends to make my music unclassifiable. I’m the weird one at the bluegrass festival.” A native of Long Island, New York, Savino lived in New York City for twenty years before moving to Asheville, North Carolina, a decade ago. “I didn’t grow up in a musical family,” he says. “I grew up in a New York Italian family – I discovered music in school. I played the saxophone in elementary school and progressed to playing in the jazz band. The director saw a spark in me and gave me a baritone sax.” Savino says an older kid played the bass guitar, and he really liked it. “I got my first bass guitar when I was 12 years old. That musical training has carried me through life.” After graduating high school, Savino attended a music conservatory in New York, where he played jazz on a double bass. Someone gave him a banjo while he was in college, and he tinkered around on that, playing songs. After college, he traveled and went deep into Brazilian music. “I had an electric bass with me. In the evenings, locals would jam in the town center. It was all acoustic instruments, and I was bummed that I couldn’t play with them, so I bought a cavaco – a four-stringed street banjo.” Finding himself in a “jazz coma,” Savino began writing songs on the banjo for fun. “I ended up playing the songs out of left field in 2004 or 2005, and I began experimenting and pushing sounds, manipulating the banjo to see what I could get out of the instrument.” He began playing with a band called Tall Tall Trees. “I began using loop technology to write music, and we would play happy hour shows for two hours straight. We did that every Monday for a few months and began to draw a regular crowd.” When he lost his drummer, Savino says he used a mallet to lightly beat on his banjo. “I realized I could really wail on it. I could play chords and drums at the same time.” When the artist Kishi Bashi hired Savino as his backup band, it allowed him to tour solo. “It was more affordable, so I hit the road as an ambassador for Tall Tall Trees.” Kishi Bashi did a one-man loop show with violin, and now, 15 to 20 years later, Savino says he is still inspired. Savino's music has a strong psychedelic tone, and his music videos reflect that. “I have had some cool conspirators,” he states. “I’m a pro-psychedelic person, and I attribute my musical curiosity to bands like The Grateful Dead and Phish. They were my gateway drug to jazz music.” Savino says he is also into metaphysics and the spiritual world. “I believe there is a deeper layer to what’s happening around us.” His musical progression was influenced by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones in the 1990s. “I always had strange records and tapes,” he laughs. “I listened to a lot of the Flying Burrito Brothers, Flatt and Scruggs, and the Eagles – “Early Bird” has some amazing banjo playing. I love how Rhiannan Giddens plays clawhammer banjo and brings old time to the forefront, and Bela Fleck is still pushing boundaries.” The name Tall Tall Trees is his homage to Roger Miller. “I was obsessed with him early on as a songwriter. One song could break your heart, and the next made you laugh.” While “Tall Tall Trees” is admittedly not Savino’s favorite song, he likes the name. “I like the alliteration, and I like that TTT looks like a stand of trees. And it’s kind of funny – it’s a plural name, but it’s just me on stage.” Savino is working on a new acoustic banjo record. “It’s a cross between old-time banjo with psychedelic flourishes, with a lot of round-peak clawhammer style playing. It’s something totally different for me.” The album is due out early 2026. https://talltalltrees.com To see Tall Tall Trees play at The Kennedy Center, click herehttps:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIWIOZQBFwY .   Photos provided by Mike Savino.

Photo by Jeff f Daugherty When C.J. Lewandowski was a teenager, he met one of his music idols, veteran bluegrass artist Bobby Osborne. “I got to pick with him, and I was forever hooked,” C.J. says. C.J. worked hard to master the mandolin and was already playing gigs when he enrolled in the Kentucky School of Bluegrass and Traditional Music. “I went because Bobby was teaching there,” he says. “After a few months, Bobby asked me why I was there. I told him it was because he taught there and that I wanted to hang out with him. He told me that I didn’t need to enroll in college to do that, and that the best thing I could do was to get out on the road and play.” When C.J. purchased his 1927 F-5 Fern mandolin, he contacted Bobby. “We compared mine to his 1925 model, and we took photos. That’s what spawned our friendship.” C.J. began going to Bobby’s house once or twice a month, and the two developed a deep friendship. “Then COVID happened,” says C.J. “I didn’t want to risk bringing outside germs into his home.” During that time, Bobby went into a funk, depressed that he couldn’t play at the Grand Ole Opry or other shows. “He did some mandolin video lessons on YouTube, but it wasn’t the same as having a live audience. He missed the Opry so much.” When COVID finally passed, C.J. was able to see Bobby again. “I talked to his son, Bobby Jr., at the 2022 IBMA awards, who agreed that I could book Bobby for a few shows.” A trip to Palm Springs to visit Keith Barnacastle, founder of Turnberry Records, was the spark that ignited an idea C.J. had. “I told Keith I thought it would be cool to get Bobby into the studio. Keith asked if I thought he would do it. I had to get up the nerve to mention it to Bobby.” Bobby was intrigued when he heard a fellow from California was interested in recording him. “We let Bobby pick the studio and the songs.” In January 2022, recording began at Ben’s Place, a studio in Nashville owned by Bill Surratt. “He engineered the project.” C.J. assembled a band for the project that included himself, Lincoln Hensley, and Bobby Osborne Jr. “It was important to surround Bobby with people he was comfortable with, and people who loved and admired him.” C.J. laughs, saying it wasn’t like ordinary Nashville sessions. “Bobby had the set list, and some days we would record three or four songs, then other days we didn’t do any, because Bobby just wanted to talk. We let him set the pace.” One day, Bobby came in and said he wanted to do Rocky Top over again – he wasn’t pleased with his vocals. “None of us realized that would be his last time in the studio.” Bobby Osborne passed away on June 27, 2023. “I went to see him in the hospital before he died, and Bobby was talking about the artwork for the album cover. After we told each other, ‘I love you,’ I told Bobby on my way out to ‘keep on keeping on.’ He gave me a thumbs up and said, ‘YOU keep on keeping on.’ Those were his last words to me.” After Bobby’s death, C.J. could barely manage to listen to recordings of Bobby’s voice. His passing hit C.J. hard. “I spoke at his funeral, and I was a pallbearer. When I got home, I called Keith and said I didn’t know what to do.” At the time, they had eight tracks with Bobby’s vocals and one instrumental Bobby played on. C.J. says that since Bobby’s passing, he has had an intense way of showing up. “I was sitting on my porch, and in my mind, I heard him say, ‘I gave you something, now do what you want with it.’ I figured that the album wasn’t supposed to be with Bobby, but for him.” At the 2024 IBMA awards show, C.J. was asked to be a part of a tribute to Bobby Osborne. After his performance, he went backstage where Del McCoury, Ronnie McCoury, and the Boys were playing “She’s No Angel.” C.J. spoke with Bobby Jr., who suggested that Del be added as another voice on the album. “My idea had been to finish the album like it was, as an album of Bobby’s last recordings, but that opened up a whole new realm of possibility.” C.J. called Billy Strings about adding vocals to the album. “Billy said he knew about the project and thought he had missed the boat on it.” Billy sang along with Bobby’s recording of “Cora is Gone.” Bobby showed up again for C.J. in December. “I make an annual trip to Florida the first week of December, and at that time, I was seriously considering hanging up bluegrass and becoming a realtor. I was listening to Del’s Hand-Picked show on Sirius XM’s Bluegrass Junction. “It was a re-run, recorded before Bobby died, and Del talked a lot about Bobby.” Then came Chris Jones’ show, and he announced he would be celebrating Bobby Osborne on the show because it was Bobby’s birthday. When C.J. returned home, a box awaited him from the Country Music Hall of Fame. Inside, there was a letter asking if he would like to be included in their upcoming “Unbroken Circle” exhibit, which features stars with their mentors. “They did an exhibit of me and Bobby. We had so many things planned, but this wasn’t one of them.” Vince Gill was at the opening and asked if he could do “Lonesome Feeling” on the album. Other stars jumped on board, including Sam Bush, Mollie Tuttle, Wyatt Ellis, Jaylee Roberts, The Osborne Boys, and the Po’ Ramblin’ Boys. “Everything about this album happened naturally. It was not by design. And it took two years to make, but I had to get it done,” says C.J. “We had people who pre-ordered the album who were waiting for it to be released, and I had to do it for Bobby.” The album, Keep on Keepin’ On , was released on August 22. “I’m blessed to have all his sons on the album. Getting to know the Osborne family and being close with them has been a great experience for me.”

The satisfying sound of live music still has a home at Camp Springs Bluegrass Park thanks to North Carolina’s Coswell County resident Cody Johnson. With a heart full of fond memories and hard work, the park is again a thriving venue for bluegrass music. “I grew up going to festivals, including Camp Springs, which we happen to live near,” shares Cody, who says a sense of nostalgia drove him to buy the once-famous stomping ground. “My mom and dad went up and down the East Coast to every festival they could go to. I just miss those good old days.” A retired postal worker who never envisioned himself as a concert promoter, Cody recalls that Camp Springs was in terrible shape when he bought it. “It was really bad, I’m not gonna lie. It was overgrown, and the original stage was falling in on itself.” He was able to salvage a few things. “We rebuilt the stage and were able to repair the original concession stand along with some other buildings that were left.” Originally owned by legendary concert promoter Carlton Haney, the site hosted legendary performers including Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley, The Osborn Brothers, Earl Scruggs, Jimmy Martin, and JD Crowe. It is where guitarist Tony Rice performed his first show in 1971 with JD Crowe & The New South and his last with the Bluegrass Alliance. Camp Springs Bluegrass Park was also the subject of a 1971 documentary titled Bluegrass County Soul  in which Cody’s dad appears. “My dad helped Carton Haney with different things like security,” adding, “A lot of guys from the community helped out. “In 2021, fifty years later, we got to bring the producer of the film back with his wife, along with four musicians who played in the movie. So that was pretty special!” One of the highlights of Johnson’s festivals is airing the documentary .  “I play it every year! I have a big drive-in movie screen. We play that for our campers the night before the festival.” Cody, who noticed the abandoned property during his travels in Caswell County, had questions. “I did some research and found out who owned it, which was Carlton Haney’s family, and that is who I eventually bought it from.” Celebrating his 8 th  festival since reopening the park in 2019, the proud venue owner says his annual Tony Rice Memorial Day Musicfest differs slightly from their other shows. “He wasn’t just bluegrass. He played a little bit of everything. So, we added a little bit of everything to the show. One year, we had the late 80s country band Exile play at the festival.” Although crowds are not as big as in the 1970s, Cody says they grow each year. “We average around two thousand people for the whole festival.” Cody says he’s still learning how to book acts for his festivals. “You can talk directly to a lot of musicians in bluegrass, but with some of the bigger acts, you have to go through a booking agent. I’m not used to that. Honestly, I’d rather go right to the source.” Continuing, “Younger bands who’ve seen the movie Bluegrass Country Soul  are excited to play at Camp Springs. I think that’s a really cool thing!” Cody hopes that Billy Strings will play one of his festivals. “The year before the last, I got to meet Billy Strings at one of his shows. He announced our first Tony Rice festival from the stage. I would definitely love to have him—I would say he tops the list!” While praising his wife, Donna, and Brother Chris for their support, Cody owes a great deal to the award-winning radio DJ Cindy Baucom. “She helps out with her knowledge of bluegrass. She has been our MC from the start.” The festival organizer is excited about upcoming plans. “We have a Camp Springs non-profit organization called The Camp Springs Music and Historical Foundation. Our goal is to build a museum that includes a hall for winter performances. It was always Carlton’s dream to build a museum, and I have so much memorabilia.” Cody shares that Camp Springs has brought folks together over the years and has been a special place for the local community. “It’s been a part of this area since 1969, so it means a lot to people. It’s a place where you can find your fix of bluegrass music!”

Enda Scahill started playing music at an early age in rural Ireland.   “Where I grew up in Galway, on the west coast, most Irish children played the tin whistle in school from age five or so,” he says. “When I was about nine years old, a wonderful music teacher called Bernie Geraghty came to my school. She asked if anyone would like to play the banjo, and my hand shot up into the air. I don’t know why I was instantly attracted to the banjo, and I don’t have a clear memory of where I first heard it. But I remember that day. I was the first-ever banjo player in our village.”   Bernie taught Enda for a few years before Cepta Byrne began teaching music at his school. “Cepta played accordion, but she was one of those beautiful humans who wove magic and joy into music and just inspired me to be creative, brave, and innovative in my approach to Irish music,” Enda says. “She didn’t believe in musical boundaries and thus, neither did I. Cepta is in her 70s now, and almost 40 years later, she’s one of my closest friends and confidants.”   In addition to his music education at school, Enda grew up in a musical family. His older brother, Adrian (who now has two master's and a doctorate in Irish music and lectures on Irish music at a national university), was a huge collector of Irish tunes, even as a young teenager. So he would sit for hours at the piano transcribing tunes he had recorded at local music (jam) sessions. I learned most of my tunes by osmosis from him. Hence, I am still terrible at remembering tune names.”   Enda admits he is not great at studying. “Sitting and concentrating has always been a struggle for me, so I soak up music by listening, experimenting, and lots of playing.” His biggest musical hero was Gerry O’Connor (the first Irish winner of the Steve Martin Banjo Prize, incidentally). “Gerry was so incredibly inventive in his playing, drawing from many different genres and pushing the technical boundaries of the instrument. As a teenager, his music drove me to be better, faster, cleaner, and even more musically experimental.”   A four-time All-Ireland banjo champion, Enda was presented with the prestigious Steve Martin Banjo Prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass in 2022. “It came at a difficult time as We Banjo 3 was winding down, and my musical future suddenly looked very uncertain. I’m a firm believer in a higher power or “the universe,” and that felt like a giant cosmic reassuring hand on my back.    He performed with numerous groups before founding “the hottest group in Irish music,” according to LiveIreland , We Banjo 3, with Martin Howley, David Howley, and his brother, Fergal Scahill. “We started We Banjo 3 in my kitchen in 2009 because I was inspired by a photograph I saw of Kris Kristofferson on stage with his head thrown backwards, laughing deeply. Irish music can be very serious, and I desperately wanted to have fun. I also wanted to be a little controversial and poke at the establishment. What better way than a band with three banjos? I was determined to stand out from the crowd. Every other band at that time was some Celtic-sounding word, and I knew we had to be very different. But it was only ever supposed to be a bit of fun on the side. Who knew so many people loved the banjo? People came out in droves. At first, we didn’t have enough music to fill a 90-minute show, so we told lots of jokes and stories to fill the gaps. And audiences loved the show! Looking back, we were running to catch up from 2012 to 2019. It took off like a juggernaut. I think we had reached a level of stability in 2020, having taken on management and all of the support systems that brings. But we know what happened in 2020.”   Over the years, Enda says he has been blessed to play with so many amazing musicians. “Even thinking about it blows my mind. I’ve traded solos with Bela Fleck, Alison Brown, and Jake Workman, and I recorded an album with Ricky Skaggs, Aubrey Haynie, and Bryan Sutton. I could go on and on. Sierra Hull, Sam Bush, Ron Block, even Billy Strings. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”   A career high happened a few years ago, when Enda stood on stage in the Sumida Triphony Concert Hall in Tokyo with two of the greatest Irish music bands of all time - Dervish and Altan. “There were 1800 people in the audience, clapping and smiling, and I realized that these bands were the late night, walking home from the session, headphones in (Walkman cassette tape era!) soundtrack to my youth. And here I was sharing a stage, music, laughter, and friendship with my heroes. That moment on stage, my heart swelled and I had tears in my eyes with gratitude for all the gnarly twists and turns of life that had led me there.”   Enda also shared another funny tale: “Way back when I didn’t know anything about bluegrass music, I inveigled myself (through pure brazenness) onto the mainstage at a big bluegrass festival in Ireland. I managed to nab a 10-minute slot between headliners. We went up, blitzed the set, scarpered off stage to a standing ovation, and ran back across the road to the pub where we were hired to play our own gig. What I never realized is that Earl Scruggs and his band were the headliners that night, and after their show, they came across the road and watched the rest of my gig.”   His inspiration changes all the time and many times. “Right now, Bela Fleck is a huge inspiration for this reason - he has constantly innovated, seemingly without any fear of limitations of genre or ability. So, when I’m feeling musically humdrum or technically stuck, I think of Bela. And it lifts me to try different runs or ornaments in the music. I’m probably unusually annoying in an Irish jam session context as I’m then wandering way off the melody of the tune at times.”   Martin Hayes, the Irish fiddler, has also been a huge inspiration. “He communicates something profoundly moving with deceptively simple playing. And a jazz pianist called Kenny Werner. He wrote the book Effortless Mastery . I watched a seminar of his a few years ago. He sits at the piano, and before he plays, he always says to himself, ‘This is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard anywhere in the universe,’ and then plays. Goose bumps every time.”   Now Enda spends time teaching. “I love teaching. I only do things that I’m wildly passionate about. Otherwise, I get wildly bored very quickly! Irish banjo can be a tough instrument. Chris Thile once said that the mandolin is an incredibly inefficient instrument. Well, tenor banjo is that by ten. So I formulated a method of playing that simplifies and describes in detail a pedagogy that works for the banjo. And I’m inspired and excited to help other people become better banjo players and all-round better musicians.”   Enda has a vast online community of students on every continent. “Over 700 currently, and I interact with many of them on a regular basis. Essentially, what I do now is create bespoke high-level, high-tech, multi-camera angle banjo and mandolin lessons . Every lesson is tailored to all levels of ability, from absolute beginner right up to advanced players. I focus on all the various aspects of technique, constantly challenging students to learn new ideas, ornamentation, harmony, and variations. It’s very immersive and comprehensive.”   But there is plenty of music in Enda’s fingers. “I’ve just released the best album I’ve ever made. Bearing in mind several Billboard #1 albums and many Album of the Year awards, I think that is saying something! The Dark Well  is a collaboration with a Swedish harmonic player called Joel Andersson, who incidentally is the number one customizer of high-end harmonica in the world. The album title is a play on the phrase ‘Drinking water from an ancient well’ - the concept of the deep and sustaining heritage of Irish traditional music. However, the banjo and harmonica are new interlopers. We don’t fully belong in this ancient well. We need to dig our own well. It’s dark and sonorous. Full of texture, drones and gravely banjo sounds. It’s truly unique and different.”   Guests on the album include Grammy winner Francesco Turrisi, Ross Holmes from Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Andy Thorn from Leftover Salmon and many more. “I’m also touring for the last year with an Italian band called Gadan,  who, if you can believe the irony, now have three banjos in the band. They play a high-energy blend of Irish and bluegrass music. It’s a ton of fun and I’m really enjoying playing with the guys.”

In the four years between albums, a lot has happened for the idiosyncratic, boundary-pushing bluegrass/roots band Nefesh Mountain.   “It's hard to pick up the phone and not just feel constantly affected by this world and this growing tension and divide in our country," says guitarist/banjoist/singer/songwriter Eric Lindberg, who fronts the band with his wife, vocalist and songwriter Doni Zasloff. “There's global things going on and there's wars," he laments.   But the state of the world has not driven them to despair or hopelessness. Instead, it inspired an honest, optimistic, multi-genre double album that showcases top-tier bluegrass musicians and Lindberg's and Zasloff's poignant songwriting.   " Beacons is the name of the album, and the songs are supposed to be 18 little candles," Lindberg explains. "Little beacons of light that are reminders for my wife and I to stick to our own path and to see the bright side and to be grateful.”   Zasloff says Beacons came together quickly in early 2024, though it was a long time between albums.   “Eric looked at me right after New Year's Eve and said we're gonna do this album, and I said ‘Are you crazy? We have three kids. How are we gonna make this happen?’ And then I would say by April we were in the studio making this album, so Eric was on fire and inspired for those three months.”   While previous albums have featured Lindberg’s striking banjo playing, Beacons also allowed him to play the electric guitar, his primary instrument before bluegrass. The musical palette on Beacons  is wider because one disc features bluegrass and the other features Americana music.   “We just decided that this album was bigger than the genre or anything specific and that we were gonna throw out the rulebook,” Lindberg says. “We decided that these songs would really live together on two separate things, paying homage to both the bluegrass that people know us for and that we love, and then also this new direction on the Americana disc that is sort of a blues jazz kind of jam direction.”   Zasloff says she grew up hearing all kinds of music and toured extensively as a performer of children’s music. “I would say meeting Eric really opened the floodgates of bluegrass, and I fell in love with the genre, and fell as deeply in love with it as I did with him, and we started this journey together.”   Nefesh Mountain’s bluegrass music is rooted in the couple’s background and heritage as Jewish Americans. “Nefesh” means “soul” in Hebrew, as Zasloff explained at a recent concert. “We’re just trying to create a little Nefesh mountain universe where everyone is free to be themself and loved for exactly who they are,” she continued.   “On our first album, we recorded some songs that are actual prayers,” Lindberg continues. “We want to do something good for the world. And it sounds a little corny, but when we walk around and when we travel, you can tell people are feeling lonely and a little heartbroken and divided. It's a lonely time, and it's my responsibility to not just write music that is self-serving, but to really try to give something back. And I really feel that's something that being Jewish has always taught me. It's not about us. It's about giving back to our community.”   The bluegrass cuts on Beacons  include A-list musicians Stuart Duncan, Rob McCoury, and Mark Schatz. Lindberg says that over several projects, Jerry Douglas and Sam Bush have become especially cherished collaborators.   “I love those guys with all of my heart,” he says. “I write some challenging stuff at times, and they're always up for it. One of the huge gifts of my life is getting to know them. It's amazing.”   For Nefesh Mountain’s ambitious, year-round touring Lindberg and Zasloff have assembled a collective of gifted musicians who rotate in and out of the band as schedules permit. They’ve recruited instrumentalists who can play all the kinds of music featured on Beacons . It’s the music that they want to play and that their fans want to hear.   “My dream for the band is that there's sort of this kind of blues band rhythm section that on a dime can switch and we’re a bluegrass band,” Lindberg explains. “And then we really get to explore all of those things that I love, and I'm finding that a lot of folks out there really love, too.   “The 18 songs on  Beacons  are about remembering that this life is just yours and that there's no rules,” Lindberg says. “Just follow your own flow of the river, and good things will happen. And for us, it’s been really super exciting to play in this kind of multi-genre format. We're just gonna keep following the river and following our hearts because that’s what’s going to make us happy.”

Bluegrass came along as a new calling for career musician and classically trained upright bassist Trish Imbrogno. She'd already spent 25 years with her instrument, performing with classical ensembles and symphony orchestras and gracing the stages of prestigious venues such as Carnegie Hall.   Even after all that, the allure of roots music caused her to take an unexpected turn.   "I don't think I knew what I was missing until I found it," Imbrogno explained. "When you're in the classical world, the path is very prescribed – hours in a practice room with Simandl and Flesch, mastering solo rep and excerpts, all aiming for that orchestra job with steady weeks and a salary. That was my world for a long time, and I didn't really question it. I didn't even realize there was another way to make music professionally."   That started to shift after Imbrogno began playing with her partner, who's a fingerpicking guitarist in the style of Mississippi John Hurt and Blind Blake. She explained, "We were gigging regularly as a duo, and through that, I found my way into the broader Americana scene."   She was invited to bluegrass night at The Park House, a tiny bar in her Pittsburgh, Penn home base. She said it was so small, she had to lift her hand-carved, one-of-a-kind bass over people's heads "just to squeeze in the back corner." It was a scene of "no mics, beer flying, people jumping around inches from us, and no idea what I was doing…but it was electric and became a weekly thing for five years."   Over time, she started booking so many roots gigs that her calendar was already full; the orchestral work was crowded out. She preferred the more enjoyable bluegrass events.   "I didn't feel burned out preparing that material," she said. "In fact, I was excited about it. Meanwhile, every time I pulled orchestral music out of the folder, I'd sigh. That's when it hit me: Maybe I don't love this the way I thought I did. Or maybe I never really did – I just didn't know any other path existed."   What she found in bluegrass and Americana was connection. "In classical music, you're making this beautiful, intricate art, but the audience is silent, reverent, hands in their laps. In roots music, the audience gives you energy in real time," Imbrogno summarized. "You feel it. They clap, laugh, yell, and come talk to you after the show. It's not always about perfection; it's about people. And I realized I'm someone who needs that."   In addition to her gigging with Pittsburgh-based Sweaty Already String Band, she's just released her debut album, Bluegrass Love Songs, Volume One.  She said it is "built around a bit of an inside joke I've made for years."   Calling something a bluegrass love song is kind of an oxymoron, Imbrogno said. "The melodies might sound sweet, but the lyrics usually tell a darker story. I started saying onstage that I only sing 'Volume One' love songs – the ones where everybody stays alive at the end…these are the heartbreak tunes…getting dumped, cheated on, left behind. Still sad, but nobody gets murdered."   It is with this humor and clear love for bluegrass that Imbrogno was guided in selecting numbers for the EP, which includes songs such as the locally beloved tune "Cherokee Shuffle" and what she described as the "love-hate" song "Clinch Mountain Backstep."   The experienced team Imbrogno assembled for the record includes Murphy Henry (banjo and vocals on one track); Dede Wyland (guitar and harmony vocals); Rainy Miatke (mandolin); and Becky Buller (fiddle). Christopher Henry recorded and engineered the album, with additional recording work by Ben Surratt and Mark Raudabaugh, and mastering by Will Shenk.   Imbrogno is really excited about this deeper new step into the bluegrass world.   "I didn't make this record because I want to be a front person or start my own band. I love being a side person, and I've been fortunate to play on a lot of records across different genres," she said. "But most of those don't show up when you search for me. So, part of this project was about visibility – making sure people can actually find me if they're looking for a bluegrass bass player. And part of it was proving to myself that I could do it."   She acknowledges the inspiring examples set by others and credits her main mentor in the classical world, her bass teacher, Jeff Turner. Imbrogno said she has found inspiration and mentorship in Missy Raines, whom she described as "an incredible player, teacher, and human." She also cited other women of roots music, including Dede Wyland, Becky Buller, Vickie Vaughn, Shelby Means and Molly Tuttle.   While she believes women performers of all stripes are a powerful bunch, Imbrogno attempted–quite thoughtfully–to explain the unique features of being a female bassist.   "The upright does have something special," she explained. "You're basically wrangling a full-sized human when you play it. There's a physicality, a kind of grace-meets-power. And when someone really plays the upright – when their technique is dialed in, especially with a bow – it's like a dance. It becomes an extension of the body. That instrument moves with you. It breathes with you. And that's something you don't get with a fiddle, or a guitar, or even an electric bass."   She said when people see a woman onstage wrangling a bass, they see a "powerful visual of a woman completely in sync with an instrument that takes up space…unapologetically."

After many years on the road—she was with the circus, he hopped freights—husband and wife Keith Josiah Smith and Sparrow Smith, who perform as The Resonant Rogues, have put down roots.   "We live in Western North Carolina," says Sparrow. "It's one of the most beautiful natural places in the world. People can come here from all over the world to experience nature here. We're so lucky to have it in our backyard.”   But as The Resonant Rogues, Sparrow and Keith—sometimes performing as a duo, other times fronting a larger band—maintain a busy tour schedule, playing many songs from their two latest albums, The Magnolia Sessions and the eponymous The Resonant Rogues .   “We love touring for the most part," says Keith. “Like everything else there's things that are not enjoyable, but that's just life. We like traveling and playing music. I feel like going and playing the shows is the easiest part. Everything else is kind of more of the hard work.”   Sparrow plays the banjo and accordion, and Keith plays guitar and percussion. Both sing and are prolific songwriters. Old-time music associated with Western North Carolina is a big part of their musical identity, and being on the move is in their DNA.   “What brought Keith and I together was our love of adventure and our love of travel,” Sparrow explains. “We've done a lot of international traveling through the years. We're really hoping to get back to Europe to tour. We toured Europe three different times pre-pandemic. We also toured Australia, and we’ve been to Alaska four times. We just really love traveling.”   Last winter, Sparrow and Keith made a bucket list trip to South America to explore the music there. Living in the mountains, they feel a kinship with folk music from other countries tied to mountain culture.   “One of my life dreams is to spend more time in Cusco, Peru, up in the mountains and do kind of a musical exchange where I learn music, teach and share music. There's a lot of similar instruments, especially with the accordion and the fiddle. And the people are just so friendly and kind, and the music is so great.”   Much of The Resonant Rogue’s material is either old-time fiddle tunes or original compositions, but the songs may get a widely varied treatment. The Magnolia Sessions album was recorded with just the two playing and singing as they sat under a tree.   “It was right during the pandemic, so it was kind of a neat time for trying new things,” Keith remembers. “And the whole point of it was to do a stripped-down, intimate, simple acoustic set of songs. It was all one take with no break. So essentially, it’s a live album in the backyard.”   On the other hand, their self-titled album has a fuller sound, with electric guitars, percussion, fiddles, and guest vocalists, including Sierra Ferrell.   “That was a really special thing to get to do, and we are really happy with how that turned out sound-wise,” says Sparrow. “We love to dance, we love to make people dance and so being able to do that with full bands and to get drums in there was really a good time. And I'd say that that's true of our shows as well. We go from kind of a string band to a country dance band feel.”   This fall, Sparrow released a solo banjo album, Carolina Mountain , which Keith produced.   “I write a lot of songs, and I had a vision for a banjo-focused record that was about Southern Appalachia and Western North Carolina. It had a very strong sense of place,” Sparrow says. “Honestly, all of them would feel at home on a Resonant Rogues album in some way, but this record was my vision and was all my songs.”   Don't expect to find them there just because they’re firmly attached to their adopted home (Sparrow grew up in Colorado; Keith in Wisconsin). The road beckons.   “We have a pretty big year of Resonant Rogues touring mostly around festival dates, and then we’re going to do a big national album release tour for the Sparrow Smith record,” Sparrow says. “That will be billed as Sparrow Smith and The Resonant Rogues, so Keith will be on the whole tour. We’ll have some other musicians join us for sections of it. We’re going across the South, going up the West Coast and popping down into Colorado. And then probably touring the rest of the country throughout the year with the new record.”   While this pair of seasoned travelers enjoys many experiences touring offers, Keith observes that the bond between performer and audience member drives them.   “I feel like live music shows can be therapeutic for people with our modern lifestyles,” he says. “What probably feels the best to me when I talk to people at the end of a show is when they get something out of it in that human way of connection. I think that's something that you can't get on your phone. You can't get that on social media. You can't get that anywhere else. It really is one of the very few places where you can get that level of connection.”