Under 21 with Guardian

Silverada
Evolution.
It's what keeps the best bands afloat — song after song, show after show, record after record. Mike Harmeier was still in his early 20s when he formed Mike and the Moonpies. From the start, they were the definition of a workingman's country band, cutting their teeth with five-hour sets on Austin's dancehall circuit before spreading their music to the rest of America.

By the early 2020s, they'd become global ambassadors of homegrown Texas music, flying their flag everywhere from Abbey Road Studios (where they recorded 2019's Cheap Silver & Solid Country Gold with help from the London Symphony Orchestra) to the Grand Ole Opry.

The growth was remarkable, but all that momentum left Harmeier and his four bandmates — drummer Taylor Englert, guitarist Catlin Rutherford, bassist Omar Oyoque, and steel guitarist Zachary Moulton — looking for something new. After all, their music had decidedly changed. Why shouldn't their name do the same?

Silverada marks a new chapter in the band's history. It's not just the title of the boldest release of the group's critically-acclaimed career; it's also the name of the reinvigorated band itself. "Back in the day, all we wanted to do was play the Broken Spoke," says Harmeier, nodding to the hometown honky-tonk in Austin, TX, where Silverada began sowing the seeds for a sound that mixed timeless twang with modern-day dynamics. "We had different aspirations back then. We were still figuring out what kind of band we were gonna be, and that took a lot of time and a lot of records." A lot of records, indeed.

Silverada marks the group's ninth release, and it balances the strengths they've accumulated along the way — sharp, detailed songwriting that bounces between autobiographical sketches and character studies; gorgeous swells of pedal steel that drift through the songs like weather; a rhythm section capable of country shuffles, hard-charging rock & roll tempos, and everything in between — with a willingness to break old rules and open new doors. "Radio Wave" is a roots-rock anthem for the highway and the heartland, peppered with Springsteen-worthy hooks and War On Drugs-inspired atmospherics. "Eagle Rare" launches the band into outer space during its explosive middle section, which the band improvised in the recording studio.

"Stay By My Side" showcases Silverada's road-warrior credentials — the band recorded the track live during a tour across the American Southeast, capturing it in a single take at Capricorn Sound Studios in Macon, Georgia — while "Wallflower" blends the organic with the otherworldly, finding room for harmonized guitar solos, driving disco beats, and 808 percussion.

"Going into the studio, everybody in the band felt inspired to do something bigger than what they'd done before," Harmeier explains. "We all knew we were at a precipice, and we wanted to jump. I brought in some songs that were metaphorical and not always straightforward, and that showed the guys that I wanted to take this music somewhere new... so they threw their own rulebooks out the window, too."

Harmeier wrote the bulk of Silverada in his backyard studio, surrounded by dozens of books he'd picked up at a local Goodwill. "We'd been on tour for so long, playing the same set for almost two years, and I wanted to write something that was a departure," he remembers. Jeff Tweedy's books on songwriting were a big help, but Harmeier pushed himself to get weird, too, finding  nspiration in everything from astronomy texts to sci-fi novels. "I would read some, work a little bit, read some more, and work a little more," he says of the creative process. "I spent a full month in that studio, going there every night, making word ladders and highlighting lines and learning to free write."

Recorded at Yellow Dog Studios with longtime producer/collaborator Adam Odor, Silverada propels the band forward without losing sight of their roots. "Stubborn Son" — a loving, unsparing sketch of the family patriarch who set Harmeier's creativity in motion—unfolds like a close cousin to Steak Night at the Prairie Rose's title track, laced with fiddle solos from longtime George Strait collaborator Gene Elders. "Doing It Right" channels the same throwback, slow-dance ambiance that informed 2019's "You Look Good in Neon." "Load Out," which chronicles the grind of blue collar jobs both on and off the road, could've found a home on 2021's One To Grow On.

There's a smart sense of history here — a celebration not only of where the band is headed, where they've been, too. Even so, Silverada doesn't spend much time looking in the rearview mirror. Instead, it keeps its gaze focused on the road ahead. This is a snapshot of a band in motion, chasing down the next horizon, writing the soundtrack to some new discovery. It's the sound of alchemy, of some new metal being forged. And like silver itself, Silverada shines brightly.

"We spent the first part of our career figuring out who we are and what we're good at," says Harmeier. "Now we want to evolve not only the sound of the band, but the dynamic of the live show, too. We're all lifers here. We're in this for the long haul. Silverada is us setting the stage for the next leg of the journey."

https://www.silverada.com/


Kelsey Waldon

In the six years since she signed to John Prine’s Oh Boy Records, Kelsey Waldon has earned wide praise for her “self-penned compositions [with] the patina of authenticity” (Rolling Stone). On her new album, Every Ghost, she confronts addiction, grief, generational trauma, and even herself — and comes through it stronger and at peace.

“There’s a lot of hard-earned healing on this record,” Waldon says of the nine-song project, recorded at Southern Grooves studio in Memphis with her band, The Muleskinners. As she sings in the record’s title track and first song, “Ghost of Myself,” she’s put in the work not only to better herself and leave behind bad habits, but also to learn to love her past selves.

Doing so wasn’t easy, Waldon admits. “It took time and experience,” she says, adding that she can now find compassion for her younger self.

“I think you’ve gotta respect her,” Waldon says, “because she was trying as hard as she could for where she was at, and she was doing a damn good job.”

Compassion is a throughline on Every Ghost, whether it’s for Waldon herself, for the person in the throes of addiction in “Falling Down,” or for a suffering world in “Nursery Rhyme.” The people in Waldon’s songs aren’t irredeemable — they’re struggling.

“You’ve got to have compassion; you gotta stay humble and have gratitude,” Waldon says. However, she’s learned that you also can’t let people take advantage of an empathetic heart. “Comanche” — which Waldon jokes is her very own truck song — finds Waldon grappling with the loss of a loved one, not to death but to boundaries she’s set for her own good. Waldon owns a 1988 Jeep Comanche, and driving it serves as a kind of therapy for her.

“I love the whole aspect of when design mattered,” she says, “and owning your car was an expression of yourself.”

“Comanche” is deeply personal, but Waldon’s most introspective reflections bookend My Ghost. Its penultimate song, “My Kin,” extends the idea of loving yourself in spite of yourself beyond the choices she’s made and the circumstances she’s put herself in, to reckon with both the good and the bad that come from her family tree. Those traits, Waldon concludes, make her who she is.

“As the song says, ‘I’m the best and worst of my kin,’ and I love that for myself,” says Waldon, who was born and raised in a hunting lodge at the end of a dead-end road in the rural, unincorporated community of Monkey’s Eyebrow, Ky. “And I’m also at a point where I’m willing to break these cycles, I’m willing to grow, I’m willing to evolve.”

Among those best parts of her lineage is Waldon’s grandmother, who died in June 2024. “She was a remarkable woman. The women in my family have been rocks, and they’ve all been colorful and full of character,” Waldon says.

“Her garden and her yard, that might have been one of the things she took the most pride in,” Waldon adds, recalling how her granny would often stop to dig up roadside flowers, then transplant them into her yard. A display of tiger lilies, some of which now grow in Waldon’s yard in Tennessee, was a particular point of pride.

“Transplanting is such a tradition — it can teach you a lot,” Waldon says. “Life goes on, beauty can grow from anywhere, and as long as a person is remembered, they’re never gone.”

Waldon honors her granny with the song “Tiger Lilies.” She didn’t want an over-the-top sentimental song, so she instead leaned into the idea of traditions as a way to remember loved ones. “I’m sure Granny would love it,” Waldon says.

Every Ghost concludes with a Hazel Dickens cover, “Ramblin’ Woman.” Waldon covered two Dickens songs on 2024’s There’s Always a Song and had added “Ramblin’ Woman” to their live sets as well. While Waldon didn’t originally intend to include their cover on this album, it served as “a sonic star” during the recording process and has a message Waldon feels is still relevant decades after Dickens wrote it. “Hazel was ahead of her time,” Waldon says. “Our existence is more than just what society expects of us. We’re more than just somebody’s girlfriend or wife or mother, and those are all beautiful things, but we can have our own independence, and we don’t have to do it for anybody else. We’re beautiful, magical, and powerful creatures.”

That’s certainly how Waldon sees herself after completing Every Ghost. “It feels like there’s a spirit of fearlessness throughout this album,” Waldon says, “and I’m really proud of that.”

Waldon’s fearlessness is among the reasons she landed at Oh Boy Records in 2019, as the independent label’s first new signee in 15 years. It’s attracted fans to her headline tours and her festival sets, and prompted artists including Tyler Childers, Charley Crockett, Robert Earl Keen, Margo Price, and Lucinda Williams to invite her on tour. It helped earn her both the title of “Kentucky Colonel” — an honor recognizing goodwill ambassadors of Kentucky’s culture and traditions — and a spot in the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum’s annual American Currents exhibit in 2024.

“True outlaw shit is sticking to your guns, and I feel like I’m doing that,” Waldon says. “I’m not saying I’m unbreakable, but I feel almost unbreakable. I’ve already hurt the worst that I could and lived to tell the story. We can be thankful for our ghosts."

https://www.kelseywaldon.com/