There are voices that sound weathered because somebody figured out how to make them sound that way.

And then there are voices that have actually seen some weather.

Adam Christoferson has the latter.

There’s gravel in his voice, but tremendous empathy underneath it. His songs carry the perspective of someone who has spent years inside the real creative process, both his own and alongside people using music to make sense of lives that don’t always arrive neatly packaged.

As the founder of New Haven’s Musical Intervention, Adam built a place around a remarkably human idea: that creating something and being heard can matter. He’s spent years putting guitars, microphones, notebooks, and opportunities to create into the hands of people who might otherwise never have them.

But somewhere in all that giving, Adam never stopped being an artist himself.

He recently stepped into Dirt Floor Recording Studios to make a new record of his own. After years helping other people discover what they need to say, Adam is still searching for new ways to say something himself.

There’s no separation between the artist and the mission.
Adam knows music can be messy because people are messy. He knows a song doesn’t have to make somebody famous to change their life.

And he’s built his own life around proving it.

Step into an entirely different atmosphere where lyrical honesty is the language, sonic surrealism becomes architecture, and human connection is not only potent, but essential. The soundtrack to that world is the music of Arielle Silver.

With a vocal that is delicate but never fragile, Silver carries a rare conversational vigor that paints emotional landscapes instead of simply telling stories. Her songs unfold patiently, like memories returning in flashes of color, detail, and feeling.

The magic in the Arielle Silver catalog is that it feels ethereal, poetic, and deeply vulnerable without ever confusing vulnerability for weakness. That’s a powerful kind of hope.

Equally inspired by the traditions of Laurel Canyon and Greenwich Village, Silver creates folk-rooted songs filled with imagery, empathy, and quiet insight, exploring the relationships that shape us between people, places, memory, and the natural world.

Her latest album, Watershed, written everywhere from Venice Beach to the Appalachian Trail, captures moments of emotional and spiritual renewal with the kind of warmth and humanity that lingers long after the songs end. The album spent 18 weeks on the Americana Music Charts while earning praise from outlets like The Bluegrass Situation, Americana Highways, and Twangville.

A Pushcart Prize-nominated writer, teaching artist, nonprofit arts leader, and award-winning songwriter, Arielle Silver creates art that feels less like performance and more like communion.

Bryan Titus is a powerhouse singer-songwriter with the raw soul of Ray Charles and the effortless intelligence of Lyle Lovett and Tim Hardin. A voice that arrives already seasoned, already certain of its purpose.

Whether he’s driving a stomp-and-holler, post-modern barn dance or leaning into a hushed folk ballad, there’s always that same thing underneath it. A sharp mind, an honest heart, and melodies built sturdy enough to carry both.

A humanitarian by nature and a traveler by instinct, Bryan has walked the Appalachian Trail and tended bar in Japan. He’s the kind of songwriter who seems to collect perspective one mile and one conversation at a time.

We first met Bryan at the 2024 NERFA Conference. Since then, he’s become a familiar face around Bigger Beast and 21 Songwriters, earned Falcon Ridge Folk Festival’s Most Wanted Performer honors, found international folk radio success, and continued doing what made us stop and listen in the first place.

Writing really damn good songs.

Some artists chase the spotlight.

Others quietly help build the stage before they ever step onto it.

That’s Christina Meadows.

When we first met Christina, she arrived carrying a guitar, a notebook full of songs, and a willingness to do whatever needed to be done. She led the very first “All Are Welcome” Song Circle we ever hosted, then stayed long after the music ended to help break down the stage.

That tells you just about everything you need to know about her.

At just 23 years old, Christina approaches songwriting with curiosity, humility, and a work ethic that can’t be taught. She writes, performs, learns live sound, helps other artists, and somehow keeps finding another way to make herself useful.

And over the last year, we’ve gotten to watch the artist grow right alongside the person.

Her new single, “Please Pick Up The Phone,” arrives September 25th, another piece of a catalog that continues to find its voice while Christina continues finding hers.

There’s something pretty special about watching somebody who once helped build the stage start to command it.

If John Mellencamp rode with a biker gang but was always late to the meet-up because he’d stayed up drinking red wine and getting lost in Tom Waits records, he might sound like Eddie Seville.

His music lands like a punchline and a prayer at the same time.

Gritty. Soulful. Full of heart.

Eddie has that rare ability to write directly into the uglier corners of being human without ever making you feel like he’s given up on us. There’s rust on the machinery. There are scars on the characters. Somebody probably made a bad decision somewhere around the second verse.

But somehow, dawn is always coming.

His Bigger Beast Records debut single, “S.O.B. Blues,” introduced our community to that contradiction perfectly, and the songs that will follow will continue to reveal a writer who understands that grit and tenderness were never opposites to begin with.

Eddie has lived enough life to know better than to pretend everything works out neatly.

So he doesn’t.

He just keeps searching for whatever little piece of grace might still be hiding in the wreckage.

The purest hearts are often wrapped in soot and concrete.

Elena Foster is an Iowa born
Connecticut based singer-
songwriter. She loves to connect
through music and has been writing
songs for over 17 years.

Multi-instrumentalist Grant Eagleson
elevates performances with his
musical stylings. Soon you’ll feel like
you’re sitting around the fire
swapping stories with friends.

New England’s resident professor of life, love, purpose, poetry, and folk music.

A true Johnny Appleseed of the songwriter community, Frank Critelli has a gift for turning any space where he opens his guitar case into fertile ground for connection, conversation, and song.

When he’s not traveling the country with guitar in hand, Critelli tends the gardens at a quiet nunnery. In a previous life, he spent more than a decade as a literature and philosophy professor. Somewhere in between, he poured drinks at some of Connecticut’s most legendary rock clubs, listening, learning, and living.

Through it all, he’s been a witness to humanity in its many forms. His songs draw from those deep wells: stories gathered on the road, wisdom earned through both loss and joy, and a lifelong dialogue with self and soul.

And for all the places Frank has traveled, Connecticut remains woven deeply into his story. He’s spent decades helping cultivate this state’s songwriting community, creating spaces for other artists to be heard and reminding people that sometimes the most important part of a song is simply having somebody there to listen.

With a voice as lived-in and welcoming as his presence, Frank Critelli is the Velveteen Rabbit of folk singer-songwriters: worn soft by experience, and all the more beloved for it.

Guitarist, vocalist, songwriter, producer and all around energetic and engaging performer, Fuzz has been a successful international touring and recording artist for the past few decades with some of his projects such as Deep Banana Blackout, Caravan of Thieves and Big Fuzz in addition to working alongside acts such as the Tom Tom Club and sharing the stage with The Allman Brothers, John Scofield, Keb Mo, Emmylou Harris, Bela Fleck, members of Phish the James Brown band and many others.

Being a creative visionary, Fuzz has been able to blend a variety of styles in each of his projects resulting in a unique and unified sound and securing his niche on the funk, jam, folk and jazz scenes. His latest endeavor, “fuzz on it” is a culmination of all of these efforts bringing together the best of his funk and soul roots, acoustic gypsy-swing and folk flavors while stirring in some island seasoning for a little escapism… a little funk in the sun.

Jill Thompson:
“If it’s a game, you can deal me in, I might get lucky and win…”

Underneath the subtle melodic scratches of the fretboard and the low-end heartbeat of a beautifully precise yet hauntingly human guitar lives the prophetic, leather-worn voice of Americana singer-songwriter Jill Thompson.
There’s something about Jill’s music that feels like it’s spent a little time out in the weather.

A little Lucinda Williams grit, a touch of Bonnie Raitt’s soulful conviction, and the unmistakable spirit of Laurel Canyon, where melody, poetry, and everyday life somehow become inseparable.

But behind that seemingly effortless musical honesty is a lifetime spent understanding the craft.

A Connecticut-based singer-songwriter, guitarist, pianist, and music educator, Jill has spent years sharing music onstage and through her own teaching studio, helping others discover their voices while continuing to explore her own.

Her album The Sweetness of Release and songs like “Paint Me a Picture” reflect a songwriter who understands the beauty of musical restraint. Someone who knows that a well-placed lyric and a guitar can sometimes communicate more than an entire orchestra.

No trend chasing in Jill’s art, just craftsmanship.

And maybe that’s precisely what makes it timeless.

We’re honored to welcome Jill Thompson to the 2nd Annual 21 Songwriters Music Festival & Conference (Connecticut Edition) on Saturday, October 24th at Small Batch Cellars in North Haven, Connecticut.

Admission is free and includes original music, songwriting workshops, performances, and our signature after-hours song circle.

Donations benefit Musical Intervention and its mission of building community and connection through music.

There’s something wonderfully familiar about Laura Clapp’s music.

It belongs in the car with the windows down, around the kitchen while making dinner, on the late-night drive home, or in those quiet moments when the world finally slows down enough for you to actually hear yourself think.

With a voice that’s taken her around the world and a gift for turning everyday moments into unforgettable pop songs, Laura has this ability to make something beautifully polished without ever polishing away the human being underneath it.

And there’s a lot of life underneath those songs.

She’s a mother of two. An executive. A podcaster. A songwriter. A touring musician. And somehow all of those different versions of Laura find their way into the same place when she sits down to write.

Her Bigger Beast Records debut single, “Rise Up,” introduced a new chapter built around exactly that perspective. Hopeful without pretending life is easy. Resilient without hiding the bruises. Catchy as hell without sacrificing what the song actually has to say.

Now she’s continuing to build toward her forthcoming album, Chameleon, one song and one little piece of real life at a time.

Maybe that’s the thing about Laura’s music. It doesn’t ask you to escape your life for three minutes. It reminds you there might be a pretty good song hiding somewhere inside it.

What can you really say about Lee Totten that hasn’t already been said about Chuck Norris?

Probably not much.

But we’ll say this anyway: Lee Totten is one of the true cornerstones of the Northeast singer-songwriter community, a larger-than-life performer whose passion for music is matched only by his commitment to the artists around him.

Watching Lee perform feels like stumbling into a Tom Waits song at 2 a.m. during a hurricane. The bar is nearly out of liquor, somebody’s telling stories that can’t possibly be true, and somehow Lee is standing in the middle of it all, turning chaos into poetry.

His songs don’t avoid the elephant in the room. They pull up another chair for it, pour it a drink, and make it part of the conversation.

And after more than 1,700 shows, Lee has collected the kind of stories you only get by spending a lifetime saying yes to the next stage, the next town, the next songwriter, and the next strange adventure.

But the thing that makes Lee such an important part of what we do has very little to do with how many stages he’s played.

He shows up.

For the songwriters coming up behind him. For the communities trying to keep original music alive. For the person in the corner of the room who might need somebody to tell them their song matters.

Part folk singer. Part philosopher. Part beautifully unhinged storyteller. Entirely Lee Totten.

Liz Reed:
There’s something wonderfully reassuring about a songwriter who doesn’t feel the need to convince you of anything.

With the easygoing warmth of Jim Croce and the everyday storytelling sensibility of John Prine, Liz Reed makes music that feels like pulling up a chair at the kitchen table with somebody who understands exactly what kind of day you’ve had.

A mother of two, public school music teacher, activist, and community builder, Liz has spent much of her life helping other people find their voices.

And somewhere between raising a family, teaching children, and showing up for her community, she’s found a pretty remarkable way of sharing her own.

Her Bigger Beast Records singles, “Maybe Kind of World” and “The Human Side,” explore the little contradictions of being human. The struggle to remain compassionate when the world makes it difficult. The courage it takes to keep showing up. The realization that kindness isn’t always the easiest choice, but it’s almost always the one that matters.
There’s nothing manufactured about Liz’s songwriting. No unnecessary theatrics. Just thoughtful melodies, lived-in stories, and an understanding that sometimes the smallest moments carry the greatest weight.

When Liz released “The Human Side,” she sold out her release concert the following night.

And maybe that’s the beautiful thing about her music.
In a world constantly encouraging us to be louder, bigger, and more extraordinary, Liz Reed reminds us there’s something pretty extraordinary about simply being human.

We’re honored to welcome Liz to 21 Songwriters on Saturday, October 24th at Small Batch Cellars in North Haven, Connecticut.

Admission is free, featuring 21 songwriters, original music, workshops, and our signature after-hours song circle.
All donations benefit Musical Intervention, a New Haven nonprofit creating opportunities for connection, community, and self-expression through music.

Still Rivers:
If Jeff Lynne wandered into a New England kitchen and decided to produce a record for a singing married couple somewhere between school drop-offs and supper, the result might sound something like Still Rivers.

Chandra and Muddy Rivers make music in the margins of real life.

They’re raising a family, working, keeping a home together, and somehow still finding those little pockets of time where two people can sit down, pick up instruments, and make something beautiful together.

That matters because you can hear it in the songs.
Still Rivers doesn’t feel like two people trying to manufacture some romantic version of the folk-singing couple. Their harmonies have the warmth of two voices that know each other. Their songs carry the perspective of two people building an actual life together, with all the joy, exhaustion, uncertainty, humor, and ordinary little victories that come with it.

There’s some classic country in there. Some folk. A little Laurel Canyon warmth and the melodic glow of those old records where the harmonies somehow made everything feel bigger without making anything louder.

But the heart of Still Rivers is much simpler than genre.
It’s two people singing about the life happening around them while they’re still busy living it.

And maybe that’s why their music feels so familiar.

You don’t feel like you’ve been invited into a performance.
You feel like you’ve been invited into their home.

Stephen Peter Rodgers:
Stephen Peter Rodgers has a rare gift for finding the smallest sliver of light inside life’s darkest moments and turning it into something hopeful, deeply human, and quietly transformative.

With a voice that recalls Leonard Cohen and John Moreland, Steve writes with the perspective of somebody who has been around long enough to know that life rarely hands us clean endings.

Long before his recent Bigger Beast Records releases, he fronted the acclaimed Connecticut indie rock band Mighty Purple. But somewhere along the way, Steve’s story became about far more than his own songs.

He produced records. Built venues. Hosted open mics. Mentored younger writers. Created stages and opportunities. And spent decades doing the largely invisible work that allows an original music community to actually exist.

That matters to us.

Because 21 Songwriters was built around the same basic idea Steve has lived for years: music gets stronger when artists stop treating one another like competition and start building something together.

And through all of that community building, he never stopped being a songwriter himself.

The songs still arrive with that weathered voice, that thoughtful pen, and that stubborn little sliver of light.
Some artists leave behind great songs.

Stephen Peter Rodgers leaves the room better than he found it.

Carrying a hint of Natalie Merchant’s vocal charm, the country-leaning Americana of Aimee Van Dyne floats with the melodic warmth of the Christine McVie side of Fleetwood Mac.

But underneath that beauty is a songwriter whose music carries the perspective that can only come from living a little life.

Aimee began writing songs while studying art at Brown University before building a music career in New York City. Her background in architecture even influenced her approach to recording, helping inspire the layered vocals and intricate harmonies that became signatures of her sound.

Then life changed.

After stepping away from music for a decade to raise her twin daughters, Aimee navigated a divorce and a move from Brooklyn to the Berkshire Mountains before finding her way back to songwriting.

That journey became Broken Love Songs - a deeply personal collection exploring lost love, trust, heartbreak, and ultimately finding light on the other side of darkness. The album earned Aimee recognition as a two-time John Lennon Songwriting Contest finalist and an International Acoustic Music Awards runner-up while reaching the FAI Folk and Alt-Country charts.

Sometimes stepping away from your art doesn’t mean you’ve lost your voice.

Sometimes life is simply giving you something new to say.

There’s an art to saying exactly what you mean.

With a country undertone, conversational vocal swagger, pop sensibility, and an honest, matter-of-fact pen, Bekka Dowland possesses a songwriting quality that’s harder to pull off than it sounds:

Clarity.

Where some writers might circle the elephant in the room searching for the perfect metaphor, Bekka looks it square in the eye, calls it what it is, and somehow makes the honesty itself feel poetic.

Hailing from Western Massachusetts, Bekka lives where the emotional storytelling of classic country meets the immediacy of modern pop. There are shades of Kelsea Ballerini and Taylor Swift in the conversational intimacy, with the storytelling tradition of George Strait and Alan Jackson underneath.

A writer before she was a songwriter, Bekka gravitated toward poetry as a child. Encouraged by her late father, she picked up a guitar at 21 and began turning those words into songs about heartbreak, independence, grief, healing, confidence, and hope.

Releases including “Hole in My Heart,” Failures & Fairytales, and 2026’s “Be A Little Kinder” have continued expanding that voice, while BUZZMUSIC named her one of its Best Artists of 2025.
layers.

Sometimes the poetry is in finally finding the words to say it out loud.

“There’s no time for the blues on a day so fine.”

Brie Green sounds like she stepped out of a time machine - vinyl records, black-and-white television, and songs that somehow feel both timeless and brand new. Think O Brother, Where Art Thou? with a modern heartbeat.

Raised on a Massachusetts farm alongside her three sisters, that foundation echoes through everything she writes. Her songs are full of grit, warmth, and the kind of rhythm that’s learned through seasons, not playlists.

A gifted multi-instrumentalist on guitar, fiddle, bass, and mandolin, Brie blends the spirit of Alison Krauss, Gillian Welch, Loretta Lynn, and Patsy Cline into a sound that’s unmistakably her own. Every performance feels both deeply rooted and wonderfully alive.

Johnny Cash command, Neil Young raw musical honesty, and the throwback Americana spirit of Old Crow Medicine Show - Charlie Diamond wrestles songs like he has fires as a firefighter.

A man who shows up with his best friend - a 180-pound English Mastiff named Jupiter - and a guitar that’s seen a whole bunch of different time zones.

And somehow, that tells you quite a bit about Charlie Diamond.

Because Charlie seems far more interested in living the stories first than figuring out how to turn them into songs later.

He’s wrestled an alligator, driven a tank, fought a tornado, and traveled around New England playing just about anywhere a person can stand with a guitar - farms, barns, factories, coffee shops and plenty of places in between.
The road isn’t something Charlie writes about from a distance. It’s where he collects his material.

That wanderer’s spirit runs through records like Electric Lady Dreams and A New Poet in Town, where harmonica, acoustic guitar and stripped-down folk leave plenty of room for the stories themselves.

Love. Friendship. Strangers. Roads. Dreams. The strange people and little moments you only discover when you’re willing to keep moving.

Maybe that’s why his music feels like it comes from another era.

Not because Charlie Diamond is trying to recreate the past.

Because he’s still out there living the kind of life people used to write folk songs about.

Bruce Hornsby-level soul, Leon Russell’s gruff-but-sweet heartfelt touch, and the brilliantly thoughtful pen that makes him one of Western New England’s absolute treasures—Jon Carroll is justifiably legendary.

And in Jon’s case, “legendary” isn’t hyperbole.

His career began right out of high school as a founding member of Starland Vocal Band, whose “Afternoon Delight” became a #1 hit. The group won two Grammys—including one specifically for Jon’s vocal arrangement.

That could have been an entire career.

Instead, it was the beginning.

Jon wrote “Get Closer,” which became a hit for Linda Ronstadt, and his songs have also been recorded by Tom Jones and Kenny Rogers. He became Mary Chapin Carpenter’s longtime keyboardist and vocalist and has worked with artists including Rodney Crowell, Peter Wolf and The Chicks.

Yet the most revealing thing about Jon isn’t an award or famous name.

When describing how he approaches making music, Jon said he always goes “song first.”

That explains a lot.

Because beneath the Grammys, arrangements, session work and decades of musical knowledge is still a songwriter obsessed with the thing that started all of this in the first place:

A great song.

After Grammys, #1 records, legendary artists and a lifetime spent making music at the highest level, Jon Carroll still comes back to those three words.

Song first.

And maybe that’s why, whenever he sits behind a piano or picks up a guitar, the incredible songs still come.

“If we look for the good, we’ll get on the other side.”

Kate Callahan sings like someone who has already been there—and come back with stories worth telling.
Spiritually emotive yet deeply grounded, her voice carries a melodic clarity as pure and crystalline as Karen Carpenter’s, delivered with the calm confidence of an artist who knows exactly what matters. A former Connecticut State Troubadour, Callahan is a folk storyteller whose songs feel less like performances and more like offerings.

Every song arrives with the weight of a humanitarian protest—not loud or confrontational, but quietly resolute. Callahan writes from a place of conviction and compassion, threading perspective and purpose into melodies that linger long after the final note fades. Her music doesn’t ask for attention; it earns it.

Some artists create great work. Others live their art so fully that it becomes inseparable from who they are. Kate Callahan belongs to the latter. There’s an alchemy to her presence—nothing about her songs is predictable, yet everything feels exactly right. She performs with a rare combination of grace, strength, and unshakable sincerity.

That delicately sweet yet soulful vocal that feels like it should be served up in a basket with a good book, a heated blanket, a cuddly pup, and a commercial-free marathon of your favorite TV show on a New England winter Sunday…

Katherine Winston has that.

Never too sweet, but never needing to show its edges, Katherine proves that you can sonically and lyrically paint a picture with beautifully crafted melodies, exquisite production, and musical restraint. You don’t have to force somebody to listen.

Sometimes you can simply create a world they subconsciously walk into.

Drawing from Americana, classic country, folk-rock and pop - with influences ranging from Stevie Nicks and Dolly Parton to Brandi Carlile - Katherine pairs that warmth with a powerhouse voice and songwriting built around the complicated little truths of being human.

And she’s been learning how to reach an audience for most of her life.

Katherine began performing professionally as a teenager, eventually earning a spot among the semifinalists on Season 14 of American Idol. That experience took her west to Los Angeles, where years of writing, collaborating and recording ultimately led her back home to New England and toward the music that felt most authentically hers.

Her debut full-length album, Something Special, Nothing Fancy, might actually be the perfect title for what makes Katherine’s music work.

Because there’s a difference between music that demands your attention and music that makes you want to stay awhile.

Katherine Winston makes the latter.

New England has a rich history of blues and Americana-tinged singer-songwriters. LeFever has found the sweet spot between the two - beautifully composed songs delivered with the grit and swagger of the best of northern blues.

Two-time winners of the Blues Foundation Annual Blues Challenge and Northeast representatives at some of the country’s biggest blues competitions, including the International Blues Challenge in Memphis, LeFever is a powerhouse.

The guitar-toting duo brings soul, drive, charisma, and a musical chemistry that borders on pure magic.

At the center is Dawn Lepere’s voice - somehow gritty and sincerely smooth at the same time. Rich, sultry, soulful, and occasionally haunting, there’s an authenticity to her delivery that can’t be manufactured. The swagger is real.

A mom of two, public school music teacher, activist, community builder, and deeply honest songwriter, Liz Reed approaches music with the easy warmth of Jim Croce and the emotional intelligence of someone who has fully lived the stories she sings.

Her Bigger Beast Records singles, “Maybe Kind of World” and “The Human Side,” showcase exactly why her music resonates so deeply. Rooted in everyday humanity, motherhood, compassion, resilience, and hope, her songs celebrate the quiet courage it takes to keep showing up for the people we love while still finding our own voice.

There’s nothing performative about Liz’s songwriting. No chasing trends. No unnecessary posturing. Just lived-in truth delivered with warmth, perspective, and the kind of melodic sincerity that makes listeners feel immediately at home.

Following the release of “The Human Side,” Liz sold out her release show the very next night—a reminder that authentic songwriting and genuine human connection still matter deeply.

There’s a sacred place where sensitivity and courage meet.

A place where empathy and authenticity become the framework for communication and creation. That metaphorical world most of us shut the door on to protect ourselves from vulnerability is the place where Tom D’Ademo, under the moniker Me, Like Many, writes his songs.

As Jammerzine wrote about his recent single “Soldier On,” “Me, Like Many invites listeners into a world where solitude isn’t lonely—it’s sacred.” They later described him as being “soft around the edges with a diamond at the core.”
It’s an apt description.

Beyond creating spellbinding music, Tom has become one of the quiet cornerstones of the Bigger Beast community, serving as a sound engineer, web designer, ticketing manager, and the steady hand behind countless concerts.

While audiences often see the performers under the lights, Tom has spent years helping make those moments possible.
His music feels exactly like the man himself: thoughtful, understated, deeply human, and quietly unforgettable.

It’s a 21 Songwriters tradition to create a welcoming environment for artists at every phase of their creative journey.

Last year, at the 1st Western New England Edition, a young college-aged woman walked into our songwriting workshop and later chose our music business panel over the other creative workshops - with a notepad and pen in hand.

It was the first music business workshop we’d ever given, so I was paying attention to who showed up.

I remembered her.

Six hours later, the festival was over. While I was wrapping cables and cleaning up the main stage, my phone started blowing up.

“You need to get over here and hear this artist.”

So I stopped what I was doing and shuffled over to the after-hours All Are Welcome Song Circle.

And there she was.

The same young woman with the notepad and pen.
Except now she had a guitar.

Makayla Nelson’s angelic, Joni Mitchell-esque vocal made every hair on my arms stand up. I stood quietly in the corner until she finished her song, walked over, took off my artist badge and handed it to her.

Makayla became the first artist booked for this year’s festival.

Since then, she’s guested on other artists’ records, begun working toward her first releases, and started finding her way onto festival stages - including Connecticut’s Black Bear Festival.

There are artists whose stories we get to celebrate after they’ve built a career.

And sometimes, if we’re really lucky, we get to be there when one is just beginning.

There’s a certain kind of songwriter who doesn’t chase the spotlight.

He chases the craft.

The kind of artist who finds meaning in the quiet ritual of building a song, not for attention, but because it’s how he processes being alive.

That’s Marc Apostolides.

Carrying the songcraft of Jackson Browne, the subtlety of Iron & Wine, and the everyman perspective of Billy Joel, Marc writes from real life - the moments in between.

Coaching his son’s baseball games, showing up for his family, and turning everyday experiences into songs that feel deeply lived in and honest.

A multi-instrumentalist rooted in the James Taylor New England songwriter tradition, Marc also carries an exploratory edge that quietly expands his music without ever losing sight of the song itself.

After more than three decades of songwriting, Marc is re-emerging with his first new music in over ten years through Bigger Beast Records, proving that great songs don’t expire - they simply wait for the right moment to be heard.

Nearly 30 years since their first release, Lonesome Brothers are proof that some of the most authentic and well-built vehicles may not be the flashiest ride in the parking lot - but they’re the ones you enjoy the most and somehow end up occupying the biggest space in your heart.

With the swagger of Uncle Tupelo blended with an undeniable early-‘90s New England folk-rock shuffle, you can’t help but smile and jump right into the blue-collar authenticity that is the Lonesome Brothers.

The funny thing is, they were doing it before much of that language even existed.

Jim Armenti and Ray Mason started playing together around 1985, spending years on New England stages before making their first record. Four decades later, with drummer Keith Levreault, that same wonderfully unpolished mixture of country, rock, folk, humor and everyday storytelling remains.

They’ve called it “hick rock.”

Everybody else eventually started calling music like it Americana.

Along the way, the Lonesome Brothers have performed on A Prairie Home Companion, appeared at the Newport Folk Festival and shared stages with everyone from NRBQ and Junior Brown to The Bottle Rockets and The Flatlanders.
But maybe the coolest accomplishment is simply that they’re still doing it.

Still writing. Still playing. Still sounding unmistakably like themselves.

Because trends eventually become nostalgia.

Authenticity never really gets old.

An absolute road warrior with a “Sleeveless Heart” who’ll set up a stage anywhere across the continental United States where there’s four square feet of space and an ear to pry open with his own New England-tinged, Justin Townes Earle-esque Americana.

Trae Sheehan was seemingly built for the life of a troubadour.

Raised on an alpaca farm in the Appalachian mountains of West Virginia, Trae began touring North America while still in high school and has spent much of his adult life collecting songs somewhere between where he was and wherever he was headed next.

And you can hear those miles.

His 2019 album Arizona reached the Top 10 of the Roots Radio Charts. Postcards from the Country followed in 2020 with stripped-down arrangements and deeply personal storytelling, earning attention from American Songwriter, while 2021’s Hello From the End of the World carried “Sleeveless Hearts” into the Top 100 of the Americana Radio Charts.

But charts almost feel beside the point with Trae.

His songs belong to back roads, changing landscapes, strangers, heartbreak, farm country and those thoughts that only seem to find you somewhere between exits.
Because some songwriters tour to bring their songs to people.

Trae Sheehan seems to tour because somewhere out on that road is the next song.

There are music careers, and then there are lives built around music.

Peter J. Newland has spent more than five decades proving the two don’t have to be the same thing.

A founding member of the legendary Massachusetts band FAT, Peter toured nationally in the 1970s, sharing stages with artists including The Allman Brothers, Grand Funk Railroad, and Johnny Winter.

When FAT stepped away from touring, Peter headed south to Nashville, New Orleans, and Mississippi, building a songwriting career that eventually led to artists including Hank Williams Jr. and Alan Jackson recording songs he helped pen.

But somewhere along the way, the songs became only part of the story.

Peter began using music as a tool for something larger, helping build arts-centered programs in Tennessee aimed at reducing violence and gang participation while increasing graduation rates.

Eventually he returned home to Springfield, Massachusetts, bringing that mission with him. Today, Peter is one of Western New England’s great musical statesmen - a songwriter, performer, organizer, humanitarian, and tireless advocate who has helped build projects including Springfield’s Jazz & Roots Festival and JAM4SPRINGFIELD.

Peter joined us for the inaugural Western New England Edition last year, and we are honored to welcome him back to the 2nd Annual 21 Songwriters Music Festival & Conference (Western New England Edition) on Saturday, August 29th at Bright Ideas Brewing in Westfield, Massachusetts.

Presented in partnership with The New Music Alliance, admission is free and includes a full day of original music, songwriting workshops, festival performances, and our signature after-hours song circle.

All donations benefit The Food Bank of Western Massachusetts, helping provide food to individuals and families throughout Western Massachusetts.

Intelligently crafted yet joyfully unpredictable, Buggy Jive is the kind of artist who refuses to stay inside the lines. His music unfolds like a sonic Rubik’s Cube—every turn revealing another texture, another influence, another surprise. Equal parts soul, rock, Americana, and fearless experimentation, it’s a technicolor dreamcoat of expertly curated influences.

Imagine Led Zeppelin, D’Angelo, Prince, and Joni Mitchell gathered around the same campfire trading records until sunrise.

Somewhere in that conversation, Buggy Jive quietly found his own unmistakable voice.
A semi-reclusive songwriter from Upstate New York, his songs borrow as much from bookshelves as they do record collections.

Ellison. Morrison. Eliot. Didion. His lyrics wrestle with love, literature, identity, and the uneasy beauty of modern life—balancing weight with wit and complexity with compassion.

His latest record, Icarus Ascending, explores storytelling, relationships, and a divided world through songs that are as thoughtful as they are infectious. Along the way he’s earned recognition from NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest, Songwriter of the Year and Album of the Year honors, and showcases at NERFA, FARM, and Folk Alliance International.

Effortlessly emotive and quietly poetic, Canyon creates songs that feel like landscapes you can walk through. Every melody gently leads you toward the beauty of resilience, the strength found in perspective, and the love that somehow still exists in the shadow of fear.

Long before she ever stepped onstage, her story was already being written. Shortly after her birth, her mother renamed her Canyon, inspired by Neil Young’s Thrasher and its image of “crystal canyons”—a name that somehow became a prophecy. By third grade she was studying classical guitar, chasing melodies that would eventually become a lifelong calling.

Today, Canyon blends her indie folk roots with the soaring hooks and emotional reach of modern pop. As a mother and songwriter, she draws from life’s messy, beautiful contradictions, crafting songs that explore family, hope, heartbreak, and the stubborn optimism required to keep moving forward. Her music doesn’t ignore life’s hardships—it gently reminds you they’re survivable.

The sonically subtle but quietly defiant conviction of Carter Lou McElroy walks the line between Jim Morrison’s beat poetry, Bon Iver’s spiritual introspection, and the fearless sonic exploration of Radiohead. It’s music that doesn’t simply ask to be heard—it asks to be experienced.

Each song unfolds like a film projected directly into your imagination. Ethereal yet grounded, experimental yet deeply human, Carter creates immersive sonic landscapes where poetry, atmosphere, and melody blur into something that feels both ancient and entirely new.

Performing under the moniker Cyote, Carter is a Hudson Valley-based songwriter, filmmaker, and mixed-media artist whose work extends beyond music into animation, photography, and visual storytelling. Every creative pursuit is driven by the same purpose: creating art that strengthens community, inspires optimism, and reminds us that stories still have the power to change us.

Some songs entertain.

Others transport you somewhere you’ve never been.

You can’t help but hear the timelessness in the music of Elena Elias Krell. Some artists write songs. Others seem to uncover them, dusting them off as though they’ve been waiting quietly for decades to be sung again.

Born in Germany and shaped by life in England, Greece, Honduras, Mexico, and the United States, Elena’s music carries the soul of a traveler. Folk traditions, Latin influences, multilingual storytelling, and beautifully crafted melodies all find a home in songs that somehow feel both deeply personal and universally familiar.

It’s music that feels like an old AM radio glowing in the corner while a couple of logs crackle in the fireplace. Music that reminds you the world has always been a little bigger - and a little kinder - than we sometimes remember.

Whether performing under their own name or through the acclaimed project Hen in the Foxhouse, Elena has released five albums while building an international reputation for songs that effortlessly cross borders, languages, and genres. Their voice dances through a catalogue of exquisitely written songs with equal parts warmth, wisdom, and quiet wonder.

Some artists take you somewhere.

Elena reminds you that everywhere can feel like home.

Some voices are haunting. Others have even more character, like they’re a collection of echoes pouring into a microphone like honey slowly falling from a mason jar. Ginger Winn has that voice.

If Soul Coughing wandered into a super hip Halloween party hosted by The Paper Kites, the soundtrack might sound something like Ginger Winn.

Dreamy without floating away, cinematic without losing intimacy, Ginger creates songs that feel like entire worlds. Every lyric is carefully placed, every sonic choice intentional, and every performance feels like an invitation to step inside a universe that’s nostalgic, mysterious, and unmistakably her own.

A self-taught songwriter, musician, and producer originally from Charleston, South Carolina and now rooted in New York’s Hudson Valley, Ginger has carved one of the most unique paths you’ll find in independent music.

From supporting herself as a pastry chef while chasing songs, to moving halfway around the world to pursue music full-time, to releasing two critically acclaimed albums - including Freeze Frame, her bold sophomore record that expanded her already cinematic sound - she has quietly become one of the Northeast’s most compelling emerging artists.

The best artists don’t just write songs.

They build worlds you can’t wait to visit again.

Carrying the instrumental backbone of Sam Beam, the emotional depth of Gregory Alan Isakov, and the melodic sparkle of Damien Rice, the music of Harrison Nir is the kind you put on, sink into the couch, and suddenly find yourself staring at the ceiling, discovering shapes in the paint you never noticed before.

Relaxing, yet thought-provoking. Honest, yet hopeful. Deep, yet remarkably light.

Rooted in folk music with the warmth of gospel and the quiet patience of nature, Harrison describes his sound simply as “Folk Soul.” Based in New York’s Hudson Valley, his songs feel less like performances and more like conversations—gentle invitations inward that remind us to slow down, breathe a little deeper, and rediscover the sacred hidden in ordinary moments.

Some artists demand your attention.

Others earn your silence.

Hatfield sings like a man on a mission. He writes like someone who’s gone toe-to-toe with every demon—internal and external—and kept moving forward through sheer will. He hasn’t won every battle, but he’s won enough to know exactly what he’s fighting for.

That hard-earned honesty is what makes his music so compelling.

Balancing a demanding full-time career with nearly 180 performances a year while raising two children as a single father, Hatfield lives the stories he writes. His songs don’t promise easy victories—they celebrate resilience, finding hope in the moments when simply refusing to quit becomes its own kind of triumph.

With a voice that can shake the walls and lyrics that never lose sight of the heart, Hatfield has become one of the Northeast’s hardest-working singer-songwriters, earning a devoted following one unforgettable performance at a time.

The music of Robert C. Fullerton doesn’t rush to meet you. It settles in. Like the creak of weathered floorboards in an old New England cabin or the lingering warmth of a wood stove, his songs quietly find their way into the places that matter most.

A lifelong student of music, Fullerton has spent years blending folk, jazz, rock, classical, and gospel into what he calls “acoustic soul.” His songs don’t chase perfection. Instead, they celebrate life’s rough edges, finding beauty, perspective, and hope in the ordinary moments most of us overlook.

Part blue-collar philosopher and part master craftsman, Fullerton writes with honesty, warmth, and a deep appreciation for the people and stories that shape us. His music reminds us that sometimes the quietest voices have the most to say.

Carrying a voice that lands somewhere between Christopher Cross, Michael McDonald, Glenn Frey, and Jackson Browne—while channeling the soul of Ray Charles and the poetic depth of Leonard Cohen—Rees Shad is, above all else, a songwriter’s songwriter.

One of the rare artists capable of giving each song exactly what it asks for, Rees moves effortlessly from hushed folk ballads to soul-drenched gospel to richly layered Americana. Whatever the style, one thing never changes: the song always comes first.

Across 17 albums spanning more than three decades, Shad has approached songwriting less like a musician and more like a novelist, building entire worlds through unforgettable characters, rich emotional landscapes, and fearless curiosity.

A troubadour. A musical novelist. A singer-songwriter with a Mark Twain pen and a Ray Charles soul.

“Is this my path, is this my vision? Expectation is a cage I live in.”

Music is meant to reveal something true about the person creating it. The ability to look inward, confront life’s hardest questions, and transform them into songs that help the rest of us better understand ourselves is a rare gift.

Tina Ross possesses - and has quietly mastered - that gift.

Thoughtfully introspective yet quietly uplifting, Tina creates songs that feel less like performances and more like conversations you didn’t know you needed. Blending contemporary folk with touches of jazz, blues, and Americana, her songwriting explores resilience, connection, and the shared beauty of being imperfectly human. Intelligent without ever becoming inaccessible, hopeful without pretending life is simple, Tina reminds us that the greatest songs don’t simply speak...

They understand.

Thoughtfully honest and subtly poetic, Tawny Ellis lives in that beautiful space where Southern grace meets rock-and-roll heartache. Imagine Patsy Cline fronting Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers sometime in the mid-‘90s. Every song carries the rare emotional intensity that doesn’t just reach your heart—it breaks straight through the glass.

Born in Savannah, shaped by years in Los Angeles, and now calling Woodstock, New York home, Ellis has spent a lifetime cultivating a voice that’s entirely her own. A gifted multi-instrumentalist, she weaves lap steel, mountain dulcimer, and rich acoustic textures into songs that feel timeless without ever feeling nostalgic.
Her lyrics are thoughtful without being pretentious, poetic without losing sight of the people they’re written for. Every melody carries a quiet elegance, allowing stories of love, longing, resilience, and hope to unfold with remarkable honesty. It’s no surprise Guitar World compared her voice to artists like Neko Case and Ray LaMontagne - it’s the kind of voice you could happily lose yourself inside.
Some songwriters write songs.

Tawny Ellis writes companions for the long drive home.

Hauntingly beautiful perspective-laced power pop that feels like it’s pouring out of the walls of a retro dance club on Mars at four in the morning.

Modern yet otherworldly, Xondra blends indie pop, folk, and rock into songs that shimmer with infectious melodies while exploring grief, healing, resilience, and the long road toward becoming who we’re meant to be. Her music is deeply personal yet universally relatable, creating space for listeners to reflect, connect, and feel a little less alone.

Born and raised in New York, Xondra has spent more than a decade transforming life’s hardest moments into emotionally immersive performances. From intimate house concerts to iconic venues including The Bitter End, Mercury Lounge, Hotel Cafe, and Bowery Electric, she has built a reputation for fearless vulnerability and captivating storytelling. Whether exploring grief, healing, or personal evolution, her songs remind us that our deepest wounds often become the places where hope quietly begins again.

Sometimes the quietest voices leave the deepest echoes.

If Billie Holiday and Prince made a record together inside a haunted Vermont mansion with Annie Lennox on lead vocals, it might sound something like Andriana Chobot’s latest album, Return To Sincere.

Floating somewhere between ethereal pop, soul, and the smoky edge of traditional jazz, Andriana crafts a sound that is unmistakably her own—echoing the swagger of legends while moving boldly into uncharted territory.

Vibe on top of vibe on top of more vibe.

With genre-defying production carrying hints of calypso, house music, classic Americana, and pure analog soul, Return To Sincere doesn’t just bend genre—it transcends it. Andriana brings a storyteller’s heart to a producer’s playground, exploring musical space with fearless authenticity.

At times, the darker elements of theater emerge in her songs and it feels as if Sade were composing the soundtrack to a Tim Burton film set on a distant planet where emotions are the native language and the sky is always duck-egg blue. She doesn’t simply write songs.
She builds worlds.

Sometimes you hear a voice that carries something more powerful than the words themselves—something more tangible than tone alone. A voice with the rare ability to captivate, connect, and somehow leave people feeling lighter than when the song is over.

Voices like that don’t come from technique alone.

They come from empathy, curiosity, humor, love, and the willingness to embrace people wherever life leads.

That voice belongs to Ashley Hamel.

A Connecticut-born singer-songwriter now based in Jakarta, Indonesia, Ashley has built a career that refuses to recognize borders.

Whether starring as Donna in Mamma Mia!, collaborating with Indonesian musicians, performing in multiple languages, or writing intimate indie folk songs, every chapter of her story points toward the same destination: human connection.

Raised on Celine Dion, Sarah McLachlan, The Cranberries, and the Disney songbook, Ashley has grown into an artist whose music is equal parts New England folk tradition and global perspective.

With the rhythmic drive of Ani DiFranco, the adventurous spirit of David Bowie, and the emotional honesty of the Indigo Girls, Antara Gatch creates alternative folk-rock that refuses to sit comfortably inside any one genre.

Together with longtime bassist and musical partner Chris Cheney, Antara has built a sound that fans often describe with disbelief: “You sound like five people.” Built around driving guitar rhythms, soaring melodies, and fearless songwriting, the Burlington duo twists the expectations of what a folk act can be while never losing sight of the song itself.

After nearly three decades of making music together, success is no longer measured in miles traveled or records sold. As Antara has said, sometimes musicians are paid in money...

...and sometimes they’re paid in magic.

That philosophy lives inside every performance—a reminder that music’s greatest reward has always been the connection it creates between people.

With a voice that sounds like it’s running through a perfectly wired vintage tube amp, Blake Matteson brings a rare and compelling contrast to the stage - the soulful depth of an old soul paired with the wide-eyed optimism of an artist just beginning her journey.

Raised in the Green Mountains of Vermont, Blake found music almost as soon as she found her voice. Inspired by a family of musicians and a grandfather who first placed a guitar in her hands, songwriting quickly became more than a hobby - it became the way she makes sense of the world.
Her voice carries echoes of Susan Tedeschi, early Grace Potter, and Brandi Carlile, yet remains unmistakably her own. Every note feels lived-in. Every lyric refreshingly sincere. There’s no pretense - just honesty delivered with remarkable poise.

For Blake, performing isn’t about being seen. It’s about chasing the spark that first made her fall in love with music - a feeling she says has never left her and never will.
That kind of authenticity can’t be taught.

The future is bright for Blake Matteson, and we’re excited to watch the journey unfold one song at a time.

HWith Isaac Eliot carrying the poetically deadpan charm of Mike Doughty with just a touch of Ben Folds, and Isabella DeHerdt balancing it with the smoky edge of Stevie Nicks and the atmospheric coloration of Natalie Merchant’s corner of the ectofolk world, High Tea sounds like Ben Kweller and Patty Griffin started a folk duo that Tim Burton recruited to score the sequel to The Nightmare Before Christmas.

It’s whimsical.

It’s haunting.

It’s beautifully strange.

The Massachusetts duo blends folk, punk, blues, and Americana into songs that feel like modern fairy tales for grown-ups. Their music wanders through love, loss, isolation, redemption, and the messy process of growing up, all while holding tightly to a childlike reverence for storytelling. As The Boston Globe observed, there’s an unmistakable “Alice in Wonderland” quality to High Tea’s music, where unforgettable characters, vivid imagery, and emotional honesty all coexist in the same beautifully off-kilter universe.

Their latest album, A Small Notion, has been praised for pairing extraordinary songwriting and soaring vocals with stories that can make you dance one moment and quietly break your heart the next.

“So you wanna get inside your creator’s mind?” asks rising folk-pop force Koa Phoenix, her voice laced with casual command—as if she’s not only holding the map but has already unlocked the gate.

Blending the earthy storytelling of Edie Brickell, the punch and poetry of Ani DiFranco, and a hint of Chlöe Bailey’s soulful edge, Koa delivers a sound that’s equal parts rootsy singer-songwriter and pulse-driven R&B. Her music ripples with the infectious energy of Dispatch, the acoustic rawness of Dilate-era DiFranco, and the melodic warmth of early-2000s pop, yet remains unmistakably her own.

Her melodies don’t simply carry emotion—they command it. With hooks that feel both spontaneous and deliberate, her stream-of-consciousness lyricism draws you into a space that’s intimate, unguarded, and oddly familiar.

Listening to Koa feels like sitting beside her at a campfire long after everyone else has gone to sleep—the kind of conversation that only happens when honesty finally outweighs fear.

It’s vulnerable without apology. Confident without ego. Honest without compromise.

And once you’ve heard her, you’ll swear she wrote the song with your story in mind.

Carrying the brittle grit of Nathaniel Rateliff with the matter-of-fact poetry of Jakob Dylan, Milton Busker embodies the kind of Americana that feels less performed than lived.

Milton and his band, The Grim Work, describe their music as “suit-folk.”

The people’s music, all dressed up for a night on the town.

An Appalachian ditty played by Cole Porter. A gospel song for heretics. Hippie music for people who can’t afford to drop out. Love songs for the kids who couldn’t get dates but still dressed up for the dance.

That’s not just a clever description.

It’s an entire philosophy.

Formed after Milton unexpectedly ran into an old friend at a Vermont farmers market - a beginning so perfectly Vermont it almost sounds fictional - the band has quietly become one of the state’s most distinctive Americana voices, balancing wit, humility, blue-collar honesty, and timeless songwriting in equal measure.

Sometimes the best songs don’t ask you to escape real life.

They simply remind you there’s beauty hiding inside it.

With the heartfelt immediacy of Matt Nathanson, the melodic craftsmanship of Rob Thomas, and the emotional accessibility of the Gin Blossoms, Ryan Sweezey writes the kind of songs that feel instantly familiar—in the very best way.

Vocally dynamic and palpably emotional, Ryan brings infectious and meaningful pop and folk-rock to every stage with earnest sensitivity and expert execution. His songs balance memorable hooks with genuine heart, while his quiet but engaging stage presence allows the emotion to speak without ever forcing the moment.

Raised in Massachusetts and now proudly rooted in Vermont, Ryan has quietly become one of the Green Mountain State’s most respected singer-songwriters. A seven-time New England Music Award nominee—including recognition for Best in Vermont, Best Male Vocalist, and Songwriter of the Year—and a four-time Seven Daysies nominee, Ryan continues to build a catalog rooted in honesty, craftsmanship, and authentic human connection.

Sometimes the most powerful songs aren’t the ones that shout the loudest.

They’re the ones that quietly stay with you long after the last note fades.

Like a surprisingly empathetic vulture soaring high above the chaos, the songs of Steve Hartmann swoop in unexpectedly—piercing just the right part of your heart with clarity, compassion, and a hard-won sense of peace.
It feels less like he writes songs and more like he coaxes them from the sky—wrangling emotion like a sonic circus master. His vocal range stretches effortlessly, calling to mind the most powerful moments of a My Morning Jacket anthem blasting through your car speakers on a long, thoughtful drive.

There are hints of Jeff Buckley in his falsetto and phrasing, while his sonic palette draws as much from the experimental edge of Radiohead as it does the earthy pulse of Rusted Root.

The result?

Something completely original.

Steve Hartmann is more than a songwriter. He’s a poetic composer, a sonic scientist, and a falconer of melody and meaning. With each track, he takes life’s harshest truths and molds them into something beautiful, purposeful, and deeply human.

Part philosopher. Part musical storm chaser.
Steve Hartmann isn’t just creating songs.
He’s composing emotional weather.

With a vocal tone uncannily reminiscent of Griffin House, the melodic storytelling of Randy Newman, and the weathered backbone of early-‘80s Willie Nelson, Tod Pronto crafts songs that feel like sitting on a well-worn front porch on a late summer evening.

Much like a great Jimmy Buffett tune can drop you into the heart of the Florida Keys, Todd’s music transports you somewhere casual, familiar, and deeply comforting—only with a northern New England twist.

His cadence carries the easy grace of someone who’s learned life’s lessons the honest way—through love, loss, laughter, and paying attention. Listening to a Tod Pronto song can feel like flipping through your favorite John Steinbeck novel being read aloud in real time—each lyric crisp with meaning, each melody anchored by emotion.

That sense of wonder is at the heart of everything he writes. His recent recording of I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon, inspired by the beloved Sesame Street classic, became a reminder that even in divided times, kindness, family, and a little childlike magic still have the power to bring people together.

Onstage, Tod is every bit as compelling as he is on record, balancing heartfelt songwriting with the kind of quick wit and effortless storytelling that makes audiences feel like old friends before the first chorus is over.

Funny, insightful, authentic, and unmistakably Vermont, Tod Pronto reminds us that sometimes the greatest songs don’t shout.

They simply invite you to stay a little longer.

There is a corner of Americana that has never been interested in being flashy.

It simply strives for perfection in simplicity.
Like a perfectly brewed glass of homemade iced tea on a weathered back porch at sunset. The sugar is just right. The tea steeped exactly long enough. There’s no fancy infusion or cocktail umbrella. Nothing trying to impress you.

Everything simply feels...right.

That’s the music of The Twangtown Paramours.

The Nashville husband-and-wife duo of Mike T. Lewis and MaryBeth Zamer have quietly become one of Americana’s most celebrated acts, blending soulful folk, blues, and roots music into songs that feel timeless. Mike’s world-class songwriting, understated vocals, and impeccable musicianship provide the perfect counterpart to MaryBeth’s emotionally rich delivery, creating a partnership where neither voice stands in front of the other—they simply make each other better. Their latest album, The Wind Will Change Again, reached #1 on the Folk Alliance International Chart and finished as the #3 folk album of the year.

Sometimes the greatest music doesn’t ask you to notice how extraordinary it is.

It simply makes you feel at home.

Sonically rooted in adult contemporary and lyrically drawing from the introspective, emotionally rich world of ectofolk—a lineage that includes Natalie Merchant at her most poetic—Arlene Wow creates music that never mistakes volume for strength. Its power comes from its authenticity.

An award-winning Connecticut singer-songwriter and national recording artist, Arlene moves effortlessly between soulful originals, retro R&B, folk, and Latin influences, creating a musical identity that feels both deeply personal and wonderfully expansive.

Drawing from her Cuban heritage, she performs in both English and Spanish, proving that emotion has never needed a translator. Whether she’s delivering one of her own poetic compositions or breathing new life into a classic, the common thread is always the same: songs rooted in truth, vulnerability, and genuine human connection.
There is a quiet confidence in Arlene’s music. It doesn’t demand your attention. It simply earns it.

Some performances are about the songs.
Others are about the people standing beside you while you sing them.

For Andy Mayo, music has been a lifelong calling. A career music educator, composer, performer, and longtime fixture of Connecticut’s folk and theater communities, Andy has spent decades sharing music with audiences, students, and fellow artists alike.

Joining him for The Rising are his daughters, Silvia and Talia, each carrying the family tradition forward in their own way. Silvia currently performs with New England Pride 365, while Talia honed her voice with the Vassar College Night Owls. Together, they represent something larger than a performance—a reminder that music, like hope, is passed from one generation to the next.

In many ways, that’s what Bruce Springsteen’s songs have always done.

They’ve been handed from parents to children, from mentors to students, from one voice to another, carrying stories that continue to find new meaning with every generation.

David Coller & Diane Chodkowski:
Carrying the slight folk growl of Roy Orbison and the gentle warmth of the folkier side of John Denver, David Coller leads the duo of David Coller & Diane Chodkowski with a quiet confidence rooted as deeply in tradition as it is in perspective and authenticity.

Some artists spend their lives chasing the next trend.

David spent his learning classical music, becoming a nurse practitioner, writing songs, sailing wooden boats, and eventually finding his way back to the stage after a fifteen-year hiatus because the music never stopped calling him home.

That kind of journey changes the songs.
Together, David and Diane carry forward the timeless traditions of folk music while filling them with stories earned through lived experience. Whether it’s a straight-ahead folk ballad, a sea song, bluegrass tune, or an American Songbook-inspired melody, every performance is guided by one simple philosophy:

The song always comes first.

It’s an approach built on humility, craftsmanship, and a genuine love for the listening room tradition, where songs aren’t background music—they’re conversations.

Some artists write songs.

Emily Esperanza builds bridges.

Blending the intimacy of acoustic singer-songwriter music with the melodic warmth of Argentine rock nacional and global musical influences, Esperanza approaches songwriting with an uncommon belief: that music is one of the few languages everyone already knows.

During the pandemic, she taught herself Spanish from scratch, using songs as both textbook and teacher. What began as a personal journey soon grew into a mission of connecting people across cultures through music, proving that great songs don’t belong to one language. They belong to everyone.

That vision recently led her to collaborate with the Bruce Springsteen Archives & Center for American Music to create Spanglish Springsteen, a celebration of multicultural rock music that reimagines Springsteen classics in Spanish while exploring the universal truths that have always lived inside his songs.

It’s a beautiful reminder that no matter where we’re from—or what language we speak—a great song still finds its way home.

Jessica Smucker sings like she’s thinking out loud, and somehow also like she’s telling you a story she wrote specifically for you.

Her voice exists in that rare place between inner monologue and open confession, pulling melodies and meaning from somewhere cosmic before grounding them gently in a deeply human perspective.

There’s a Ben Folds-esque poetry to Smucker’s songwriting, but the imagery is rooted in lived truth. A central Pennsylvania mother of two, she writes with the perspective of someone who’s navigated loss, resilience, and the daily balancing act of being human. Her songs don’t chase perfection. They chase honesty.

And that honesty hits hard.

What makes Jessica’s music so unforgettable is its fierce vulnerability. You can hear the moments where life pushed hard enough that giving up might have seemed inevitable. But beneath every note is resilience.

Set atop a If I Could Only Remember My Name era David Crosby-esque backdrop, carrying a storyteller’s melodic ease akin to David Grisman, the subtle commanding presence of Johnny Cash, and just a hint of the folksier side of Oliver Wood’s flippant but poignant vocal delivery, Aaron Nathans balances Americana tradition in one hand and a quiet openness to exploration in the other.

With rhythmic acoustic guitar work and melodies that quietly linger in your head long after the songs end, Nathans creates alternative folk music that feels deeply thoughtful without ever losing its warmth or humanity.

A 2024 Kerrville New Folk finalist and one of the most active creative forces in the Philadelphia folk community, Aaron writes songs about the corners of humanity most writers completely overlook. The emotional bond between a man and his barber. The sensory overload of becoming a parent. The tiny details hiding inside ordinary life that suddenly become profound once somebody finally says them out loud.

There’s intellect in the writing, but never distance. Humor without novelty. Emotional depth without self-importance. His songs feel like conversations with somebody who notices everything.

And whether he’s performing solo, leading the Philly Songwriters In-the-Round series alongside Meghan Cary and Avi Wisnia, or creating wildly inventive musical chemistry with cellist Michael G. Ronstadt, Aaron Nathans approaches songwriting less like performance and more like human connection.

Ash Phillips creates acoustic guitar led soul music rooted in spiritual storytelling that somehow feels both deeply personal and completely timeless.

Carrying a vocal with the haunting elegance of late 60s Roberta Flack, Phillips balances tenderness, groove, and emotional conviction with remarkable subtlety, while the music itself carries the blues infused soul and simmering pulse of the smoother side of Gary Clark Jr.’s catalog.

Their pure tone dances between light and lyrical, earnest and compelling, while the often percussive, rhythm driven guitar playing creates a full hypnotic pulse underneath the songs. The result feels intimate without ever sounding small.

There’s an undeniable R&B drag to the music lingering perfectly between swagger and raw authenticity.
And while it may not technically be gospel music, it absolutely feels steeped in something holy.

Not performative spirituality. Not borrowed aesthetics. Something deeper than that. Music that simply moves people.

There’s warmth in the songs. Vulnerability too. But also resilience and emotional clarity. The kind of sincerity that can’t be manufactured.

“If you’re gonna play the game, you better be the house or the dealer.”

That’s not just a lyric. That’s perspective earned the hard way.

After more than 25 years holding down the low end from the hi-hat side of the stage, Antar Goodwin began stepping into the spotlight a couple of years ago with something to say, and more importantly, something he’s lived.

A longtime fixture of the New York City music scene, Goodwin built his reputation as a house bassist at legendary rooms like Prohibition, Red Lion, Groove, and Kenny’s Castaways before becoming one of the most in-demand sidemen in the game, sharing stages with Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, and Patty Smyth.

But this chapter is different.

After a life altering health scare and emergency heart surgery, Goodwin emerged with something deeper than experience. He came back with purpose. With perspective. With a second chance.

On his debut solo record The Game, he steps out front with an acoustic resonator guitar, blending folk, gospel, Americana, rock, reggae, funk, jazz, R&B, and blues into something deeply human and unmistakably his own.

Vocally, he brings a theatrical presence that nods to David Bowie, but delivers his lyrics like a wise elder sitting across the table from you weaving hard truths into simple stories.

Lines like “I let the devil drive the train and he drove me straight to hell” and “I still dance with my demons sometimes” aren’t written from imagination. They come from a man who’s lived it.

This is not a debut from a newcomer. This is the arrival of a voice decades in the making.

Some voices are just special.

Back when I was a college intern in the A&R department at Atlantic Records, I remember learning about “the one note.” That thing the truly legendary artists all seem to have.

Michael Jackson had it. Bob Dylan had it. One note and you instantly know exactly who it is.
Ben Arnold has that.

His voice sounds like it escaped a prison somewhere in middle America in the late sixties after getting caught by an undercover cop for a bank robbery it actually pulled off successfully. Weathered. Tangible. Defiant. The kind of voice that doesn’t just sing hard fought truths, it drags them into the room by the collar.

There’s the grit of heartland rock, the poetic spirit of early Counting Crows, and the swagger of a collision between Bob Seger, Jakob Dylan, and a late seventies beat poet leaning over a bar scribbling truths onto cocktail napkins.
But beyond all of that, Ben Arnold is a lifer.

From a major label deal with Columbia Records in the 90s to decades spent carving out his own amplified version of American roots music across stages throughout America and Europe, Arnold has spent a lifetime chasing honesty instead of trends.

No costume. No revival act. No trend chasing.
Just songs built from sweat, perspective, poetry, and authenticity.

A true Philadelphia treasure, Ben Arnold represents the kind of songwriter cities quietly build their musical identities around.

“Love is a star that’s giving birth to a planet.”

That’s the kind of lyric that tells you almost immediately what kind of artist you’re dealing with.

Bright Kelly writes songs for the people staring out car windows at 1:13am trying to make sense of the universe through the tiny fragile moments that somehow end up defining their entire lives.

With the haunting gravel of Gavin Rossdale, the melodic subtlety of the rockier side of Fink, the heartfelt tension of Silverchair era Daniel Johns, and the acoustic coloration of Plans era Death Cab For Cutie, Bright Kelly pulls from the best corners of 90s alternative rock and 2000s indie folk pop to create something that feels both nostalgic and entirely his own.

There’s drama in the music, but never ego. Atmosphere, but never emptiness. Every sonic choice feels intentional.
One second the songs feel grounded in intimate indie folk vulnerability, the next they drift into something cosmic and theatrical, almost like a Ziggy Stardust era David Bowie transmission arriving through modern alternative radio static.

And then there’s the voice. A touch of Don Henley soul wrapped around grit, vulnerability, and emotional clarity. The kind of vocal that already knows exactly where the emotional center of the song lives.

Holding down the neo-soul side of roots driven R&B with impeccably precise grooves and a vocal texture strikingly reminiscent of Attrell Cordes of PM Dawn, Damien Stone creates atmosphere the way great cinematographers use light. Subtly. Intentionally. Emotionally.

His voice feels less like a performance tool and more like a finely tuned mood driven instrument, carrying poetic observations about love, longing, vulnerability, and the little moments that somehow end up defining entire relationships. The songs drift out of the speakers like passing thoughts you suddenly realize have been living inside you for years.

There’s a deep longing underneath Damien Stone’s music.
But not a longing for excess or escapism.

A longing for something real. Something simple. Something human.

Born in Nigeria and creating from a deeply modern sonic landscape, Stone blends vulnerability, groove, soul, and understated emotional intelligence into songs that feel timeless without ever sounding nostalgic. Warm textures. Hypnotic rhythms. Honest emotion. Nothing forced. Nothing performative.

There’s confidence in his work, but also tenderness. Precision without sterility. Soulfulness without excess.

The result is music that doesn’t scream for your attention. It slowly earns your trust instead.

With the swagger of Elvis Costello, the tough but tender heart of Everclear, the melodic precision of Third Eye Blind, and the lyrical wit and cosmic subtlety of Ben Folds, John Faye has spent more than three decades quietly becoming one of the defining voices of the Mid Atlantic music scene.

An anchor for melody with an edge. Poetry disguised as perfectly constructed hooks.

But what makes Faye’s career so fascinating is how many different versions of the music industry he has survived and evolved through.

From signing a major label deal with A&M Records during the 90s alternative boom with The Caulfields, to touring internationally, landing songs on major television soundtracks, building beloved independent projects like IKE and John & Brittany, releasing an Amazon bestselling memoir, and continuing to reinvent himself as a songwriter, producer, performer, and collaborator, John Faye has consistently chosen longevity over trend chasing.

And somehow through all of it, he’s never lost the sharp wit and Philly grit that make his writing so unmistakably his.
Songs with titles like “Sell Your Soul as an NFT” and lyrics like “I’m just here to mess with your feng shui” remind you there’s still just enough punk rock troublemaker living underneath the craftsmanship to keep everything dangerous in the best possible way.

A lifer. A storyteller. A melodic architect with a Philly chip on his shoulder and a catalog deep enough to prove he earned it.

A project about truth and legacy wrapped inside driving art rock, ambient soul textures, and emotionally fearless songwriting, Kikashima feels like the sound of somebody learning how to carry both inheritance and rebellion at the exact same time.

Led by Mexican-Japanese-Californian songwriter Carissa Matsushima, the Philadelphia based project balances an alternative edged hush of a vocal with a quiet emotional pressure simmering underneath grooves and textures somewhere between Michael Kiwanuka and Phoebe Killdeer.

The music is atmospheric, but never passive.

There’s movement in it. Tension. Pulse.

One moment the songs barely whisper above the room. The next they crack wide open into something raw, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. Beauty, grief, longing, identity, and emotional survival all seem to exist simultaneously inside the sonic world Kikashima creates.

And despite only having a pair of official releases out so far, there’s already a startling level of artistic identity present in the catalog.

Their debut single Running Away earned attention from WXPN’s Local Show and Middays programming, while Not Goin With U transformed a ghost story and moody diss track into layered ambient art rock filled with hypnotic riffs, emotional grooves, and fearless vocal range.

There’s a confidence in Kikashima that doesn’t rely on volume or spectacle.

Just honesty, atmosphere, and the courage to feel everything fully.

Carrying a haunting vocal swagger somewhere between Chrissie Hynde and Annie Lennox, while completely owning the lower end of the female vocal range, Liz Miller plants her flag firmly in the gravel road side of Americana with one boot still standing in traditional country music.

There’s a throwback backbone to what she does. A little Merle Haggard honesty. A little barroom grit. A little candlelight vulnerability. The kind of songwriting that feels equally comfortable drifting through a roadside jukebox, a folk listening room, or a dimly lit rock club somewhere just outside the city limits.

But what makes Miller so compelling is the humanity inside the songs.

One minute she’s delivering sharp wit and awkward honesty. The next she’s cutting directly into emotional truth with the kind of perspective that only comes from somebody who has actually lived a little life.
And she has.

A nurse throughout the Covid pandemic, a songwriter moving fluidly between Americana, alt rock, jazz lounge textures, and folk storytelling, Liz Miller creates music that embraces life in all its weirdness, heartbreak, humor, resilience, and imperfect beauty.

There’s no costume to it. No forced nostalgia. Just authenticity, experience, and songs built from the kind of emotional details most people overlook.

Lia Menaker creates worlds you can dance inside of.

Steeped in vibe laced R&B and urban power pop, Lia Menaker represents the modern songwriter at their best: an artist unafraid to pull from everywhere and in doing so, create something unmistakably their own.

What becomes immediately apparent in the Lia Menaker catalog is that the inventive, tastefully modern production is merely the canvas. The real centerpiece is the soul painting across it.

Her more recent material carries the rhythmic swagger of Erykah Badu, the pinpoint precision of Lady Gaga, the melodic flow of Mary J. Blige, and the warm groove heavy undertones of D’Angelo’s Brown Sugar era. But trace the roots of her catalog backwards and you’ll also find moments that feel like Vanessa Carlton singing songs pulled from the emotional architecture of Dashboard Confessional. Piano driven vulnerability wrapped around deeply personal perspective and melodic urgency.

And somehow all of it works together seamlessly.

Listening to Lia’s music feels like stumbling into a secret late night groove party in a hidden downtown Philly loft. The turntable is spinning. The furniture is perfectly vintage. Lava lamps glow in the corners. Somebody turned a coffee table into a fish tank for no logical reason other than art. The room is filled with wildly fashionable creative misfits nodding their heads in unison while massive speakers pour warmth, rhythm, vulnerability, and soul into the room.

And somehow, in the middle of all that atmosphere and sonic sophistication, Lia Menaker still manages to make everything feel deeply human.

With a vocal carrying the sparkle of Linda Ronstadt’s conversational humanity, the subtle swagger of Carly Simon, and the whimsical fervor of the lighter side of Carole King’s catalog, Meghan Cary is a fearless freight train of artistic gold straddling the line between roots rock and traditional American folk music.

And then she hits you with a lyric like “if you don’t know the words, sing louder,” and suddenly everything about her artistry makes perfect sense. She’s not the kind of artist that politely asks for your attention. She’s the kind that makes you believe.

Years ago, after unexpectedly losing her fiancé, Cary picked up his guitar, taught herself how to play, and wrote her debut record as a way to survive the grief. That album earned Billboard Magazine’s Critic’s Choice Award, but more importantly launched a songwriting journey rooted in healing, humanity, and helping people reconnect with themselves.

There’s power in Meghan’s music, but it’s never performative. It’s rooted in honesty, lived experience, community, and the understanding that vulnerability and strength are not opposites. They’re dance partners.
A festival favorite everywhere from Philadelphia Folk Festival to Falcon Ridge, a producer, playwright, performance coach, mother, and the winner of the 2026 South Florida Folk Festival Songwriting Competition, Meghan Cary creates music that acknowledges the darkness in the world without ever surrendering to it.

With a Philly soul backbone, a folk singer’s fighting spirit, and a voice capable of changing the temperature of a room, Sug Daniels makes the kind of music that quietly rearranges something inside you.

Not through force. Through direct and honest truth.
Born in Delaware and rooted deeply in the Philadelphia creative community, Daniels blends folk, soul, rock, and alternative influences into songs that feel deeply personal while somehow still speaking to everybody in the room at once. There’s charisma in the delivery, but also vulnerability. Groove, but also purpose. Hope without naivety. Protest without losing compassion.

And while Sug can absolutely command a room alone with nothing more than a ukulele and a story, her music expands beautifully into full band arrangements filled with rootsy swagger, deep pocket grooves, and the kind of soulful chemistry that turns a live show into a genuine communal experience.

Her latest album, I Believe In You, feels like the work of somebody who has stared directly into darkness but refused to let it harden them.

After touring with The Black Opry, appearing as an official SXSW showcasing artist, and sharing stages with artists like Indigo Girls, Molly Tuttle, Sarah Shook & The Disarmers, Adeem The Artist, and Buffalo Nichols, Sug Daniels continues to emerge as one of the most emotionally authentic voices rising out of the modern folk and Americana landscape.

Carrying the mellifluous warmth of Joan Shelley with just enough East Coast gravel to call to mind the darker edges of Lucinda Williams, Annette Wasilik sings like a wanderer with a past in the shadows. A gypsy with a poet’s pen. A perspective-laced dreamer with a glass of fine wine in one hand and a grenade in the other.

Set atop a stripped down folk backdrop, Annette’s songs feel like you’re hearing them from the hallway of the Hyatt House in the early seventies at 3:47am. The wild parties have finally died down, but somewhere behind one of those closed doors there’s still rugged, whiskey stained poetry being sung in harmony over a few fingerpicked Martin D 28s. Songs about the drunkards, the black sheep, the burdened, and the beautiful mess of being human.

Folk and country with a subtle undertone of the poetic side of acoustic folk rock, Annette Wasilik sounds as patiently familiar as rain on a tin roof. But she cuts deep, and she never begs you to listen. Her songs simply wait for you to be ready, and then they slip quietly into your soul.

There’s a Futurama episode where Bender the robot wants to be a folk singer. So he uses computer technology to turn himself into the “perfect” folk artist, barges on stage in front of his hero, and then gets booed off. The real folk singing robot, Silicon Red, kicks him out and says, “Come back when you’ve lived a life worth singing about.”

Well… Eryn Michel has lived a life worth singing about. And it shows.

With a vocal range that stretches from the fragile teardrop intimacy of Dido, to the effortless command of Kacey Musgraves, to the quiet depth of Lori McKenna, Eryn sings like someone who has seen the world from every angle. Not just observed it, but survived it.
If you saw her out at the grocery store, there would be no telltale signs that the Maryland mother had served as an Army convoy gunner and humanitarian aid specialist in Iraq. Nor that she worked as a staffer in the Obama White House, a phlebotomist, a janitor, a wedding planner, a voice actor, and even private security for a king’s granddaughter. That isn’t a resume. That is a novel. And somehow she turned it into songs.

Eryn writes with fearless, unorthodox perspective and never colors inside the lines. She’ll write a song called “John Wayne In A Prom Dress” and casually drop lyrics like “my high school bully found Jesus, now she bullies everyone” and “my mama’s Christmas letters still put War and Peace to shame.” Funny, sharp, poetic, and painfully human, all in the same breath.

Her discography feels like an audible kite chasing the clouds, landing wherever the wind blows it once the spool of string finally breaks.

Carrying a vocal that harnesses the richness and definition of Lucinda Williams with the hopeful, introspective fervor of Molly Tuttle, Gabrielle Zwi writes with the kind of perspective that stops you in your tracks. The kind of artist who can drop a line like:

“Fall in love with yourself at your deepest roots, water the trees that grow inside of you”

…and make it feel less like a lyric and more like a life lesson you didn’t know you needed.

With a rich musical background rooted in jazz and bossa nova, Gabrielle weaves those textures into brilliantly composed, instantly ear grabbing songs that explore love, identity, and the rollercoaster of simply being human. Their music is soulful without being heavy, poetic without being pretentious, and emotionally honest in a way that feels rare.

Armed with a ukulele, an informed sense of humanity and community, and a protest driven fire in their heart, this Jewish Brazilian American songwriter makes music that is eclectic yet precise, bold yet welcoming. It’s the kind of sound that feels deeply personal, but somehow ends up belonging to everyone in the room.

Gabrielle Zwi doesn’t just perform songs. They build bridges

Carrying the the subtle sonic backdrop of the best of Lyle Lovett, the casually prophetic storytelling vocal of Jim Croce, and the soft spoken dusty vocal of the So They Say era Pete Francis, Erik Balkey has been creating humbly honest folk/americana music for over 2 decades.

As the wind blows in different directions and life pushes us where it wants to take us, Erik has found himself a community builder in the folk community in between his role as a father and a full time innovative folk radio promoter.

But in between those days, Balkey finds quiet moments to write those folk songs that make your old forgotten memories come to life. From songs about baseball to songs that question whether God is an Apple, Erik is a taste maker and in turn, an expertly tuned writer in the folk tradition.

Understated but potent, like a John Steinbeck novel, Balkey’s songs have earned recognition in national songwriting contests, including being named a 2005 Kerrville New Folk Winner. His song “Baseball in my Blood” was featured on NESN, the Boston Red Sox TV Network.

Underneath the rumbling timbre of a vocal that wraps around your heart like audible kudzu vines climbing toward sunlight lives a pulsating approach to the acoustic guitar, a delicate conversational delivery, and a message of hope and perspective. Together, they are the music of Jillian Matundan, a first generation Filipina American whose debut full length album Singing To The Moon landed at No. 6 on the FAI Folk Chart in March of 2024.

For some, music is an art form. For others it’s therapy. And then for others, music is simply tradition, breathing, swimming inside their human essence in an effortless conversation with every element in the world around them. The stream of consciousness that pours out of Singing To The Moon makes it clear that Matundan represents the latter.

There’s a Van Morrison Astral Weeks esque free flowing pulse underneath Jillian’s approach to songwriting, a loose and hypnotic infrastructure that allows her poetry to float effortlessly through the air. It feels like she’s building a road in real time while still somehow knowing exactly where the journey ends. And at times, her lyrical presence carries that same vivid, carnival era Natalie Merchant kind of perspective, grounded, human, and quietly spellbinding.

But above all else is the heartbeat of folk music itself. Hopeful lyrics. Honest storytelling. Community building. Songs that do not just entertain, but remind you who you are and what matters.

The ability to create music that can be sat with intentionally, but can also live inside the everyday pulse of life’s rollercoaster, is a rare and almost unreachable gift. Jillian Matundan possesses it with a firm grip, singing lines like “just stay true to the course” like they were written for every listener who’s ever needed a reason to keep going.

Some voices don’t just sing songs. They leave fingerprints on your perspective.

With a vocal that at times touches the parts of Joni Mitchell’s tone capable of breaking a glass window and somehow turning the shattered pieces into exquisite art, then folds in the melodic patience of Brandi Carlile and the emotional depth of Tracy Chapman, Kipyn (Kai) Martin is a modern folk artist walking the tightrope between tradition, stream of consciousness, and contemporary Americana songwriting.

There’s something quietly spellbinding about the way Kai delivers a song. Nothing feels forced. Nothing feels performative. The emotion simply arrives fully formed, sitting gently at the edge of the microphone waiting for you to lean in close enough to hear it.

Boasting a pair of Gold Awards from the Mid-Atlantic Songwriting Contest and an innate ability to tell stories with emotional depth and human perspective, Martin is a subtle powerhouse whose songs carry both wisdom and wonder in equal measure.

Lyrically poignant yet clever, structured yet adventurous, Kai’s songs pour out of the speakers like honey from a mason jar. Methodical. Sweet. And moving at a pace that somehow feels both perfect and impossible to predict.

Anthemic, poetic, and rooted deep in the kind of sonic ear candy you’d expect to find on a record by Florence and the Machine or The National, Kimberly Shires is the kind of songwriter and producer who doesn’t just write songs. She creates a feeling. One that hits immediately, stays with you, and somehow feels both cinematic and deeply personal at the same time.

Exploring pop music through an Americana spirit, rock and roll grit, and a delicate understanding of balance and sound, Shires creates music that feels both massive and intimate all at once. There’s a touch of the blues in the corners, hints of R and B in the foundation, and a common thread running through it all, a vocal rich with precise swagger and undeniable presence.

Her artistry ranges from the delicate poetic vulnerability of Lana Del Rey to the sonically orchestrated energy of Florence Welch, with flashes of Alanis Morissette’s conversational grit and the soulful backbone of Joss Stone.

As the founder and lead producer at Hear Me Roar Studio, Kimberly Shires is as eclectic as she is defined, a sonic force with a fearless sense of identity.

This is the kind of artist who can hit you with a hook, then leave you sitting in the weight of the lyric long after the song is over.

Like mellow golden autumn leaves falling from a sugar maple tree, there’s a quiet beauty in tradition. A delicate sacred space in folk music where songs can paint landscapes. Where melodies and arrangements sit comfortably inside the roots of Americana without ever feeling dated. Instead, they feel like a reminder. A breath. A return to something real in a world that constantly forces us to live too fast, want too much, and never be satisfied.

The music of Lynn Hollyfield lives in that space.

Her songs feel like they belong at the intersection where traditional folk and Americana meet whimsical poetry, sonic subtlety, and the kind of tasteful instrumentation that knows when to speak and when to stay out of the way. There are moments where she taps into the same timeless pocket that artists like Rita Coolidge carried when she collaborated with Graham Nash, music that doesn’t demand your attention but earns it with patience and grace.

Lynn also carries hints of old time jazz and southern roots in her delivery, giving her sound a warmth and richness that feels both familiar and rare. She commands a song, a story, and a melody with effortless emotion, weaving herself into your thoughts until you suddenly realize you’ve been nodding along, fully transported into a world she quietly built around you.

With the cinematic undertone of the fiery nights in a Hunger Games film, the ethereally enchanting vocal delivery reminiscent of the ambient side of Fink’s catalog, and the authentic roots of a Sudanese artist who can seamlessly blend the sounds of the East and the West, Mosno Al-Moseeki is an alchemistic mood creator.

His music doesn’t simply play. It hovers. It swells. It pulls you into a world where rhythm feels like atmosphere and melody feels like memory.

Mosno’s song “No Kingdom,” from his album NOVELLA: A Love Letter To Culture Clash, was featured in the award winning indie film Faisal Goes West, which screened at film festivals across London, France, Germany, and Sudan, to name a few. He is also a member of the house music group T3N, alongside international collaborators Marc Evans, Sahffi Lynne, and DJ N’Dinga Gaba, further proving his ability to move effortlessly between genres, cultures, and sonic worlds.
And yes, Mosno is also a selenophile, which explains why the moon shows up so often in his songs. He writes like someone who’s in conversation with the night sky.

The best art is authentic. But when authenticity comes from a human as spiritually unique and beautifully grounded as Mosno Al-Moseeki, what you get is something closer to magic than music. Something so real it feels like it has a pulse.

Armed with the subtle vocal growl that helped make Melissa Etheridge a household name, the commanding bravado of Ann Wilson, and a contemporary folk backdrop reminiscent of Alison Krauss, Nicole Belanus arrives like a fiery spirit carrying a poet’s heart and a dreamer’s compassion.
 
A classically trained musician and multi-instrumentalist, Belanus borrows just as much from the soulful side of rock as she does the melancholy side of folk and Americana. The result is music filled with melodic atmosphere and emotional depth, but underneath it all lives a different kind of grit. Hidden. Patient. Waiting for you to discover it somewhere inside the carefully crafted landscapes her songs create.
 
There’s a tension in Nicole’s music that makes it compelling. Strength and vulnerability mingling in the same breath with a softness that can suddenly turn towering. A voice that feels capable of comforting you and shaking the walls around you at the exact same time.es here

There is artistic power in juxtaposition, and Rebecca Berlin wields it like a weapon.

In a delicately conversational and hopeful tone, Berlin pulls poetic fragments of heartbreak, despair, fear, hope, and the fragile human condition into a tapestry of airy, muted piano ballads. The result feels both intimate and cinematic, like you are overhearing someone’s most private thoughts but somehow leaving the song feeling lighter than when you entered it.

Her sound carries just enough Michelle Branch sweetness to make you smile, and just enough Tori Amos to hit you with a dose of hard fought perspective when you least expect it.

There’s a delicate touch to her vocal that can drift into the higher register territory of Kate Bush, but with a softer undertone that calls to mind the warmth and sincerity of Karen Carpenter. Beneath it all is a defiant spirit, a pen powered by stream of consciousness storytelling, ticking forward like a vintage wind up music box. There are hints of theatre in the ebb and flow of her melodies, but never in a way that feels forced. It feels natural. Honest. Human.

And then she drops a line like “got too close to the sun before realizing light was burning me,” landing it perfectly inside cheerful chord changes that almost trick you into dancing with the truth.
That’s Rebecca Berlin. The glow and the gravity in the same breath.

If you love songwriting that hits like sunlight through stained glass, don’t miss Rebecca Berlin.

Some artists play shows. Rob Hinkal starts movements. In light of that, trying to neatly define rob Hinkal’s music is probably a waste of time.
 
When you’re talking about the music of rob Hinkal, you’re talking about an artist who carries the distorted emotional grit of Trent Reznor, the rule-defying unpredictability of Jack White, and the purposeful fire of Pete Seeger under a sonic umbrella that feels equally rooted in Jon Butler and the folk-laced atmospheric side of Jim James.
 
As a founding member of the legendary acoustic rock force ilyAIMY, Hinkal has spent years building a catalog and reputation that completely defies easy categorization.
 
This is rapid fire, fiercely poetic, unapologetically authentic, stream of consciousness acoustic rock that feels just as comfortable shaking the walls of a biker bar as it does silencing a folk festival crowd into deep reflection.
 
And when Hinkal performs, it feels less like entertainment and more like obligation. Like he’s been entrusted with some superhuman responsibility to say the things most people are too afraid to say out loud. As if the line between the artist and the art has completely disappeared.
 
Like your favorite Marvel superhero, Hinkal carries that strange burden that comes with power and purpose. The understanding that if you have the ability to help people, move people, or change people, then you also carry the responsibility to keep showing up and doing it, even at your own expense. The songs come at you with intensity, but underneath all the fire is an artist constantly searching for hope in the middle of the wreckage.
 
A community builder, an artist’s artist, and the man who gave this nationally touring songwriter his very first show in the state of Maryland before we had even met face to face, rob Hinkal’s influence and generosity are woven deeply into the fabric of the East Coast songwriting community.

Shawn Taylor sings with a J.J. Grey esque growl and a Jack Johnson level heart, the kind of voice that makes you want to kick off your Birkenstocks, lean back, and brace yourself for a harmonica solo that feels both celebratory and necessary. A southern Connecticut powerhouse, Taylor has a way of turning any room he walks into a pop up church in the middle of the mountains, one where you swear you’re lost, only to realize you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A true one man band, Shawn often feels like he showed up straight out of your darkest days just to remind you that yes, it might be raining, but there’s still joy to be found dancing in the puddles. His songs do not deny hardship. They stand right in it, smiling, sleeves rolled up.

Taylor writes and performs the way he lives, leading with his heart, refusing to quit, and filling everyone else’s cup long before he considers his own. A husband, father, and nature loving journeyman, he carries the kind of empathy that can only be earned through hard fought life battles balanced by quiet contemplative hours staring at a river and untangling life’s mysteries. He is a man who leaves nothing in the tank.

And now, Shawn is bringing that road worn magic to Maryland.

We are honored to welcome Shawn Taylor to the 1st Annual 21 Songwriters Music Festival (Maryland Edition) on May 16th at Monocacy Brewing in Frederick, MD, in partnership with Focus Music.

We are also thrilled to announce that Shawn’s cover of Bob Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody” will be released on Bigger Beast Records on May 1st, a perfect match for an artist whose music has always felt like equal parts grit, soul, and redemption.

This is a free admission event, and we will be collecting donations throughout the day to support Warrior Canine Connection.

Come early, clear your day, and do not miss Shawn Taylor.

With a vocal that calls to mind Attrell Cordes, better known as Prince Be of P.M. Dawn, and a musical catalog that borrows as much from the soulful subtlety of Curtis Mayfield as it does the modern emotional command of artists like John Legend, Wayne Unchained (Wayne Cobb), is an emotional powerhouse built on granite stone. Strong, steady, and beautifully human in all the right imperfections.
 
Wayne sings about the human condition through the lenses of life, love, perseverance, and purpose. But what makes his music resonate is that nothing about it feels manufactured. The emotion is lived in. Earned. Carried honestly into every melody and every line.
 
“There’s shadows in here you can’t keep under control.”
 
That lyric alone tells you almost everything you need to know.
 
Spiritually coherent yet deliberately accessible, the songs of Wayne Unchained speak directly to the emotionally present person. The ones who face their demons every single day and somehow still wake up determined to keep going. There’s resilience in his music, but never denial. Hope, but never fantasy. Just truth delivered with grace and conviction.
 
The best music reminds us that we are human and that we are not alone. Wayne Unchained keeps that sentiment beating at the center of everything he creates.
 
Some artists perform songs. Wayne Unchained delivers emotional survival guides.

Her vocals land like an inner monologue pulled straight from a journal nobody else was meant to read. There’s an intimacy to Allison Rose’s delivery that doesn’t feel performed as much as revealed, like you just stumbled into a moment that was never meant to be public, but somehow was meant to be shared.

Allison writes lyrical sadness the way the best songwriters do, not as despair, but as a warm blanket of understanding and perspective.

Crystalline vocal clarity floats over a contemporary folk backdrop as she asks life altering questions like, “where does a prayer go?” and somehow makes you feel less alone for not having the answer.

There’s a hint of Brandi Carlile’s casually poetic wordplay in her writing, touches of Joni Mitchell’s nature soaked undertones in her perspective, and the ability to deliver hard truths with the palatable conviction of Rob Thomas. But woven through it all is the lyrical poise and casually strong sincerity of Carole King, that rare kind of voice that feels conversational and effortless while still hitting you right in the chest.

What makes Allison stand out is the blue collar charm and conviction in the way she carries it all. She sings like someone with a bleeding empathetic heart filtered through real life intelligence, like she’s read ten thousand books and lived a couple hundred lifetimes.

When Allison sings the line “perfect’s over rated,” it feels like an oxymoron, because what she’s doing is so beautifully authentic it becomes perfect anyway.

A rare voice carries history inside it. Like a well-worn cast-iron skillet, seasoned over decades, it holds onto the subtle remnants of everything that came before—and somehow makes whatever comes next richer for it. Beth Killian has that kind of voice.

There are echoes in her delivery; shades of Macy Gray’s texture, Brandi Carlile’s emotional weight, Linda Ronstadt’s clarity, and Norah Jones’ warmth…but what makes Killian stand apart is how seamlessly she blends those influences into something entirely her own. It’s a finely tuned instrument: expressive, controlled, and capable of stopping you in your tracks the moment it spills out of a speaker.

Eloquent and intentional, yet light on its feet, her music carries a poetic ease. There’s a modern sensibility in her sound; somewhere between the quiet intensity of Hozier and the understated, folk-laced intimacy of Lorde where production never overshadows the story, but instead gives it room to breathe.

Her songs have a way of finding the small, unspoken spaces in life. They don’t demand your attention, they wait for it. And when you’re ready, they settle in, as if they’d been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to be understood.

Poetic, subtle, and quietly triumphant, Beth Killian’s music lingers long after the final note fades.

The ghosts are bleeding through the walls and they’re carrying retro fuzz laced electric guitars.

Haunting, sultry, and equal parts throwback and modern, the music of Julie Rhodes pours out of the speakers and leaves behind a dusty, soul shaking residue that hangs in the air like cigarette smoke in a midnight blues club.

Julie doesn’t just sing songs. She conjures rooms into silence and then sets them on fire.

With a vocal that carries the intimacy of Dionne Warwick, the swagger of Joss Stone, and the passionate grit of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Julie Rhodes is an absolute powerhouse. There’s a touch of Alabama Shakes in her delivery, raw, fearless, and unfiltered, but make no mistake, she’s a throwback artist at her core, cut from that smoky late 60s vein of female fronted soul and blues. The kind of sound that feels like it was born under amber lights, played loud through worn out amps, and delivered by a woman who has lived every word she sings.

This is the kind of voice that doesn’t ask for your attention. It takes it.

Musically, she’s an epic throwback in the best way.

Her 2016 record “Bound To Meet The Devil”, is reminiscent of early Grace Potter & The Nocturnals (Joey / Nothing But The Water era) in the perfect way - but it takes on a level of pure Rhode Island attitude and grit and throwback timelessness that takes it to a new place.

Blues laced heartbreak, late night swagger, fiery grit, and the type of performance that makes you forget you’ve got work in the morning.

Who is Lainey Dionne?

A pop artist with a razor sharp sense for production?

A songwriter who wrote a song for Selena Gomez?

A singer songwriter whose music has landed on shows like Love Is Blind and The Kardashians?

Yes. All of it. But there’s a reason why.

Lainey Dionne doesn’t just write catchy pop songs. She writes pop music that actually means something. To my ears, it feels like she’s on a never ending treasure hunt for pop music gold, and she keeps finding it in the deepest and darkest corners of the human condition. The dusty places. The quiet places. The places where hope and fear live side by side. The places where inner monologues get loud. The places where that Ed Sheeran esque hopeful despair hides in plain sight.

Her melodies are flawless, engaging, and surgically precise. But what makes Lainey stand out is not just her polish. It’s her depth. She has a modern understanding of sound and presence, but there is an emotional gravity in her work that makes it feel like more than pop. It makes it feel like a soundtrack to real life.

This is the kind of artist who can write a hook that gets stuck in your head, then sneak a truth into your chest while you’re humming it.

Marc Douglas Berardo sings with the quiet precision of someone who knows exactly where the emotion lives. There’s a Don Henley–like clarity in his delivery, paired with the conversational ease of folk lifers like Glenn Hansard; songs that don’t feel performed so much as shared, like they’ve been waiting for the right moment to be said out loud.

A troubadour in the truest sense, Berardo is a road warrior who needs little more than a guitar to turn any room into something reflective, something human. He carries himself like your most empathetic friend - the one who knows when to stop talking, reach into the cupboard, and crack open the dusty bottle of whiskey as the night settles in. His songs meet you there.

He writes like a man who’s lived a few extra lifetimes. The kind Herman Melville might’ve borrowed from, the kind that feel cinematic enough to imagine Keanu Reeves wandering through them in some quiet, searching role.

There’s salt air in his words, the imprint of the New England coastline, and the perspective that only comes from decades on the road.

Underneath it all, there’s a battle-worn edge; earned, not performed; that gives his music a delicate but undeniable fierceness.

Simply put, Berardo doesn’t just play songs…he invites you into them

Steve Allain writes like a man who keeps a running inner monologue of the human condition and refuses to water it down. On his latest album, Bird In My Chest, he opens with a line that hits like a punch to the ribs:

“everybody’s got a little damage, some of us just have a little more, I wish you could’ve met me in the middle somewhere, I wish you were somebody I could just ignore”

That is Steve Allain in a nutshell. Heartbreak. Honesty. No armor. No filter. Just truth.

His music feels like something handmade. Like a scrap wood box built in the middle of the night, still dusted with sawdust, carved with traditional tools and sheer stubborn determination. It’s rugged, intimate, and quietly devastating. The mood he creates is so precise it feels like subtle rain drops hitting a tin roof in perfect four four time.

Vocally, Allain pulls from the folk and Americana traditions with a sound that feels like Harry Nilsson’s sensitive undertones mixed with just enough Jim Croce grit to deliver melancholy truths with poise and strength. There are hints of Damien Rice in the atmosphere, speckles of Gordon Lightfoot in the cadence, and the unapologetic honesty of Justin Townes Earle in the way his lyrics describe life exactly as it is.

This is not background music. This is the kind of songwriting that makes a room go silent.

A Rhode Island mainstay in the folk and songwriter communities, Steve Allain is an absolute treasure.

There’s a quiet power to Benny Mikula—the kind that doesn’t announce itself, but settles in and stays. A songwriter with a blue-collar soul and a heart tuned to the finer frequencies of the human condition, Mikula has become one of Connecticut’s most enduring musical treasures.

His songs—rooted in hope, perspective, and hard-earned grace—have found their way into the daily lives of the New England community, not by force, but by feel.

Whether he’s steering the free-flowing, jam-driven ship of his beloved Alpaca Gnomes or standing alone beneath a single spotlight with nothing but an acoustic guitar, Mikula carries himself like a man who’s lived a thousand lifetimes and remembered the best parts of each. There’s a Jim Croce ease in his storytelling, a Richie Havens-level fervor in his delivery, and a lion’s heart behind every note.

Benny Mikula is the rare artist who fits every room. He can lead a party band without breaking a sweat, soundtrack a late-night hometown pub reunion where everyone’s singing like it’s a Bruce Springsteen record after four beers, or completely captivate a silent listening room as he introduces you to what will almost certainly become your new favorite song.

Danielle Miraglia carries the kind of grit you can’t fake—the dust-under-the-fingernails kind. With the raw, weathered spirit of the Muddy Waters Folk Singer album, the blues-soaked vocal fire of a slightly defiant Susan Tedeschi, and the righteous heat of Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s gospel side, Miraglia is a true New England treasure. Hailing from the Boston area music scene, she’s been tearing up stages across the country, leaving scorch marks wherever she lands.

Live, Miraglia is a force of nature—a one-woman band with a drum pedal at her feet, slide guitar in hand, swinging across the fretboard like she’s been charged with the holy duty of chasing darkness out of the room. There’s something ritualistic about her performances, equal parts revival meeting and back-room blues sermon.

She moves effortlessly between the fire of the blues and the sweet ache of Americana and folk, writing beautifully crafted songs and then baptizing them in a potion brewed from deep knowledge of blues history. Miraglia doesn’t borrow from tradition—she inhabits it, bending it to her will while honoring every ghost in the room.

Call it Alison Krauss with grit. Call it Elles Bailey filtered through folk sensibility. However you frame it, there’s really only one accurate description: Danielle Miraglia is freakin’ awesome.

Halley Neal writes songs with one foot planted in the golden age of American songwriting and the other firmly in the present. Channeling the introspective grace of For Everyman–era Jackson Browne, the emotional pull of The Pretender, and balancing it with a Sarah Bareilles–like modern perspective, Neal delivers her songs with a vocal presence that recalls Regina Spektor’s The Call era—intimate, expressive, and quietly commanding.

Her music feels like Full Moon Fever–era Tom Petty refracted through the voice of a seasoned female songwriter: equal parts melody and meaning, buoyed by Paul Simon’s whimsical, observational poetry and Carole King’s conversational but emotionally resonant delivery. Neal understands how to write songs that feel familiar without ever sounding borrowed—rooted in folk and Americana, but fluent in the language of modern pop and classic soft rock alike.

From New England to Nashville, Halley Neal has earned her place as one of the East Coast’s most heralded rising singer-songwriters, and for good reason. Her performance at last year’s Shelter From the Storm Concert was nothing short of magic—one of those sets that lingers long after the last note fades.

At Bigger Beast Records and All Boats Rise Entertainment, the music doesn’t clock out when the artists leave the stage. If anything, that’s when the real magic starts.

Because while time and budgets might limit who can play the standard slots, community doesn’t run on logistics. It runs on people. On guitars passed hand to hand. On songs traded in circles. On strangers turning into collaborators before the night’s through.

That’s the spirit behind the All Are Welcome After Hours Song Circle—an open, low-pressure, come-as-you-are gathering where anyone with a song and the courage to share it can step up. No velvet rope. No hierarchy. Just voices in a room, stories in the air, and that quiet electricity you only get when something special is happening.

It’s not just an after-party—it’s the heartbeat.

And this Friday, the circle is in very good hands.

Terri LaChance is a cornerstone of the Connecticut songwriter scene—the kind of steady, compassionate force every music community needs. Beyond hosting the long-running open mic at the historic Buttonwood Tree and tirelessly booking shows for songwriters in non-traditional yet advantageous spaces, she’s a protest singer and empathetic wordsmith herself, bringing deep kindness and purpose into every room she enters. Terri doesn’t just organize stages—she builds homes for songs.

Alongside her is Christina Meadows, a young songwriter with an old soul and a storyteller’s gravity. Equal parts artist and architect behind the scenes, Christina runs sound, manages projects, studies the business from the inside out, and pours her energy into lifting other musicians as she climbs. She hosted the very first All Are Welcome Song Circle more than two years ago and has been carrying the torch ever since—steady hands, open heart.

Together, they won’t just host the circle—they’ll set the tone. Safe. Supportive. Wide open.

She doesn’t know this…but I’m a huge fan. She is the one that introduced me to the power of folk music. I was a pop and jam oriented songwriter and when I started to make a little noise in the CT scene in 2015 I guess I showed up on her radar. She began following me on social media and simply showed me an abundance of kindness and support at a time when I was just learning who I was as an artist. Then I went and saw her perform at Cafe Nine. I sat there in awe for the first half of her set and then spent the second half taking notes. Anne Marie Menta tells stories. Listening to her perform is like reading one of those great story books where the chapters are short so you feel smart and accomplished when you finish a chapter and then you keep going and the next thing you know you’re like “wow I read a whole book…and it has changed me!”. Because she pulls you in. You lose track of time as she sings stories that resonate deeply with little moments in your own life that were tucked back into your subconscious. Basically I always saw folk music as something that targeted the thoughts of listeners versus the emotions. Anne Marie Menta taught me that folk music can grab your heart by way of your mind.

I’m brand new to Charlotte’s music and so I spent some time diving in and listening. And honestly…I’m absolutely blown away. With a spellbinding understanding of space and melody and the ability to convey emotion with subtle melodic runs that cross a substantial range yet feel effortless in her delivery, Charlotte Roth has found a sonic home somewhere in between ambience, lyrical connection, and subtle power. Vocally, her more powerful side feels like the upper register of Joni Mitchell on the Blue album whereas her lower register is reminiscent of some of the more subtle yet melodic classic Sarah McLaughlin tracks. (Now how about that for a vocal range! ). All of this incredible vocal talent is set to a beautiful ambient folk back drop akin to some of the best orchestrated Bon Iver ballads off “For Emma, Forever Ago” as she seems to weave her lyrical stories out of brief but moving little moments inside of the human condition that pull you in peacefully yet strongly.

I first encountered Chris as the front man for a band called “Lion’s Teeth” and he opened my eyes quickly to incredible songs, a killer vocal tone, and a command of songwriting and vocal dynamics that inspired me to expand my approach to songwriting and explore new ways to convey emotion melodically and rhythmically. In my somewhat limited experience with him, I found his passion for music infectious and right away I believed that he could be a powerful voice in the Connecticut Music Community with the talent to break out and garner a large audience nationally. Chris took some time off from rock n roll to become a father and watching from afar on social media, it brought me joy to see him making music a part of his day to day family life as it is an integral part of his being (something you notice the moment he starts to perform). He even had his adorable son handing out fliers a week ago at the CT Folk festival. The kid chased folks all over the festival grounds handing out over 500 fliers one at a time to every human being he could find showing that the passion displayed in his father’s music has assuredly been passed on genetically . While balancing fatherhood and rock n roll isn’t easy, Chris has begun working on his solo project and like me, he has been using the No Worries stage as a place to work through his new tunes and refine them before heading into the studio. Chris has the ability to be your new favorite artist instantly.

D’Pew, is the new moniker for awe inducing singer/songwriter Nick Depuy. My experience with Nick began at a songwriter round on a stage inside of a workout gym in New Haven maybe 8 years ago. When he started to perform I was speechless. He is the most precise male vocalist I’ve ever heard up close and he has a command over his guitar and corresponding vocal melody that is eerily reminiscent to the king of male singer/songwriters…James Taylor (yeah I know those are big words but trust me…they’re factual ). Lyrically clever and brilliantly eloquent, Nick is a guy I believe should be selling out clubs across the country and there’s a good chance he might be in the foreseeable future. Recently he’s moved beyond his traditional folk and singer/songwriter brand and has decided to go under the moniker “D’Pew” adding his passion for theatre and performance art to his formidable expertise in melody and songwriting. If his first single under this name entitled “Hummingbird” is a sign of what’s to come, it seems as though Nick has added an element of ethereal sonic depth to his songwriting approach and production which pushes him to the ideal place for a growing artist…defining his own sound! And what an incredible sound it is! Long story short, Nick is brilliant. He is one of my favorite artists in the region and has quickly become one of my favorite people period. It’s a privilege watching his creative journey.

I first encountered Julia at a songwriter round I attended at New Park Brewing in West Hartford, CT. Straight up, she’s a “subtle powerhouse” that sounds like she’s performing through a vintage tube amp possessed by the ghosts of forgotten poets who still have something they are desperate to convey. Her voice was incredible. It’s haunting and the subtle nuances in how she delivers melody blends so incredibly well with her nylon string guitar playing that anything she performs feels less like a singer/songwriter performance and more like a subtle sonic movement or watching an emotional movie with your ears . This is akin to how I feel listening to certain records from Iron & Wine or The Paper Kites. She also writes so poetically. I vividly remember a performance of hers at a Park City Music Hall songwriter round where she sang a song about a fictional character, “The World’s Tallest Man” and the nuanced lyrics blended so beautifully with the juxtaposition of Julia’s vocal and guitar delivery. From my vantage point, creativity and artistry don’t seem like something Julia Autumn Ford “does”, rather it’s assuredly something she “is” and I’m eagerly awaiting a vinyl pressing of her new music as her voice would sound incredible coming through my vintage Sansui tube stereo receiver over a morning cup of coffee on a cold November day .

You’re going to see my sentimental and “song writing nerd” side when I talk about this guy. Kenny was the first guy in Connecticut to get me a real gig in my home state after I graduated from college. He knew every bar in northern CT that had live music and he’d have regular gigs at a ton of them. I first met him when I opened for him at a spot called Up or On The Rocks in Hartford and the next thing I knew, he was inviting me to sit in with him at his local shows and then introducing me to the venue bookers so I could get my own gigs. Kenny was a machine who blazed his own path and showed me what guerrilla marketing looked like in the music industry at a very young age as he would invite me to play with him on self made tailgate stages outside of Dave Matthews concerts at the Meadows, etc. He taught me how to hustle and I honestly wouldn’t be where I am today if not for the lessons he taught me early on . Now musically - you’re gonna be hard pressed to find anybody in this scene that writes a “hook” like Kenny Mehler. His records always set a vibe from beginning to end and you find yourself singing along after one listen. When you study Kenny’s writing you’ll find he’s a student of the “word” and the dynamic use of syllables making his lyrical approach similar to some of Paul Simon’s solo work. He’s an expert in “near rhymes” and using his vocal delivery to provide a secondary “groove” inside the drum pattern. His 2006 album “Now” lived in my 6 disc car cd changer for about 4 years until my sister stole it for her collection. That record taught me the concept of lyrical “hooks inside of hooks” using the power of syllables and internal rhyme schemes. From fronting powerhouse bands the Groove Holmes Band in 1997, then Fivewise starting in the early 2000’s, to taking on the journey as a solo act and sharing the stage with giants like Train, Kenny took a much needed “slow down” from his 200+ show a year schedule a few years back to be a dad to his newborn triplet daughters but is currently back on stages across New England and in the studio recording his 4th solo album, the follow-up to his 2017 release “Cornbread & Whiskey”. Trust me…you don’t wanna miss his performance!

Marisa is a force! She is a fighter, she is brilliant, and she is making an impact! As a musical artist, Marisa is steeped in alternative punk and pure honesty with a vocal akin to early Gwen Stefani. Creatively, Marisa is possibly one of the most talented writers I’ve ever encountered as outside of her passion as a recording artist and her day to day life as a mom, she runs her highly successful digital magazine “RockMommy” with weekly articles covering incredible women in music - with beautifully written, thought provoking pieces that push talented women from across the globe to the forefront of the creative world. Marisa is a mother, singer/songwriter, entrepreneur, and overall powerhouse who fronts a rock band, runs a major music magazine, and has dedicated so much of her talents and energy to helping foster a community for growing female artists inside of the Connecticut Music Scene.

Riley is a younger cat on the scene that showcases so much of what is cool about the new generation of singer/songwriters. Riley is contemporary and modern but has such an in-depth understanding of “the greats” and he channels some of the coolest elements of icons like Jackson Browne and Jimmy Buffet. Like he’s the young guy who you can immediately tell after one note that his parents had an amazing record collection! But he’s seemed to weave it into something that is truly his own . He’s got soul, he’s got vibe, and I’m certain he’s got a big future because his music elevates the joy level in a 50 mile radius around him whenever he performs. See him now in a true songwriter’s atmosphere before the ticket prices are parallel to a car payment

Last summer I saw Seth perform in West Haven and finally confessed to him that he was, and still is, an idol of mine. Before Americana Music was “the thing”, I was idolizing his fliers that were hung up on the wall at Daddy’s Junky Music in Orange, CT and I was sneaking into Toads Place to watch him play Americana and Rock n Roll unlike anybody else I had ever seen. When I was a youth - Seth personified the cool modern rock guys I loved but had such an intricate understanding of the brilliance of some of the greats like Tom Petty. Seth was WRITING SONGS! And making the kind of music I wanted to make. In turn he became a beacon for me to follow when I was coming out of college and moving back home. As luck would have it, I started to get put on local bills with Seth in my mid twenties and it took me years to actually talk to him because I was so nervous. . Nowadays I get to call him a dear friend and I look forward to any opportunity I get to see him play. The Connecticut music scene is lucky to have this guy and and if it’s not him personally, whoever does end up finally blowing the doors off this CT Music Scene - he or she will have at least 3 or 4 chapters on the pathways forged by Seth Adam…the heart on his sleeve rock n roller that puts on a show like nobody else! This festival wouldn’t be the legit community celebration I wanted it to be if he wasn’t on the bill! Simply put!

I first encountered Simone Marie at a songwriting round at WeHa Brewing & Roasting in West Hartford. She sat behind her keyboard singing incredibly and passionately performing her songs. But she had an inaudible backbeat I found so infectious that by the time she got to her last song, I was actually playing the bass drum on top of the indoor wood picnic table. . (Crowd participation is always fun right? ) Rhythmically she is reminiscent of the more mainstream tracks that came out of Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings at their peak. Lyrically she is clever and approaches her stories of love and love lost with a perspective that’s poetically refreshing but still easily relatable, in a space similar to Sarah Bareilles. Vocally, she is as precise as a true jazz vocalist with a tonality similar to the Smokey side of early Fiona Apple. Her pop sensibility is infectious and modern with an understanding of the greats within the sonic space she is creating inside of.

Vocal harmonies are sacred. The voice is the only instrument that comes 100% from the body and soul. So taking two different voices and making them one instrument is a delicate excercise. Now taking two special voices and making them a singular “instrument” in rare cases can be pure alchemy. And that’s what you have with Undercover Cameo. Lucas Neil has a voice than can be reminiscent of the sweet and somber side of Thom Yorke from Radiohead blended with the melodic knowledge of some of the best artists modern indie pop and folk has to offer. Long story short…this guy can sing! But he doesn’t show off. He lets his words and melodies do the talking as they find your heart then reach into your chest and hold it just tight enough to let you know you’re not alone. Olivia Charlotte is pure soul. There’s an element of fire and spirit in her vocal that she harnesses underneath an umbrella of “sweetness” in this setting to create a delicate juxtaposition now known as “Undercover Cameo”. As a unit, they have something special to say as they sweetly sing their way into your mind and heart - and I’m excited to see where they can take this beautiful sound they’ve created together.

Bryan is an absolutely killer guitarist that to my ears pulls as much influence from Pink Floyd and The Black Crowes as he does from the funkier and jammier guitar world Someone You Can XRAY has lived in regionally for years. He establishes an incredible canvas for Dana Newman to color upon and she comes to the easel with every color in the giant crayola box the cool kids had in elementary school . Dana carries a spirit unlike any other I’ve ever encountered. On vocals and harmonica Dana is equal parts blues rocker, beat poet, soul singer, and spiritual songstress. As a unit they carry a musical vibe that feels like it celebrates the good times with an understanding that the nuances of humanity and the flaws within us all are what makes the days walking on this planet special. Good time music with soul, depth, and purpose - this pair of exceptional human beings puts on some of the best live performances in the state of CT no matter the format they’re in.

It was at a Pass The Guitar event about a year ago when I watched her perform and immediately after, my dear friend and folk road warrior Frank Critelli told me “that Adelaide Punkin, you can just tell she’s a lifer! She is all about the music; she’ll be making great art and writing songs forever!” And that’s a big statement from a brilliant and wise man…especially when referring to a teenager who is not yet even finished with high school.

So then I did my research and learned that when she was just 8 years old, Adelaide started a charitable organization to bring musicians together and help brain injury survivors called Rock Yer Block . Now that’s a rare and serious level of ambition and compassion for such a young creative! And my experience tells me that it’s those with heart, ambition, and fearlessness that really make an impact in this industry. So yeah…I’m betting the house on Adelaide!

Personally - I first met her as I was loading my gear into the Hartbeat Festival years back and we started talking about music. (I’m always intrigued as to what the young folks are listening to these days ) I was shocked as she began talking about old albums from Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder like an expert. I felt as if I had gone back in time because I couldn’t fathom how this young woman carried so much knowledge of music history and the greats that made it. At that moment I thought to myself…if this is the future of the music community…then I can rest easy at night.

There’s very few people in the Connecticut music community I have known longer than Brian Jarvis. In a unique way, I think that’s given me a very cool vantage point on his music.

I’m sure it’s also given him a unique perspective on me as well as we’ve crossed paths at probably every single phase of my own artistic journey from 21 year old Frank who thought he was taking over the rock n roll world to jaded 35 year old Frank worn out from the music industry to 40 year old Frank finding his home inside of a community oriented music mindset.

Brian, to my ears, has musical “eras” like Bob Dylan (which is why he was a top choice on this event!), Neil Young, etc. (Yes I know somebody more modern and very successful has recently done a wonderful job of marketing the concept of musical “eras” but the artists who did it first were folks like Dylan, Young, Bowie, etc.)

There’s the “Beautifully Broken” era around 2012 when he wrote heart on his sleeve songs with a pop sensibility that were sonically reminiscent of Duncan Sheik as well as the singer/songwriters that we all idolized at that time such as David Gray and nineties/early 2000s radio rock greats like Vertical Horizon.

From that launch point, Brian took to the road supporting noteworthy acts like Howie Day, Sister Hazel, and Brendan James among others.

That seemed to lead to the late 2010’s pre-Covid “World On Fire” era where Brian started to find a path inside the studio using a new approach to sonic space and an innate feel for melody to convey his signature heart on his sleeve emotion. This era peaked in 2019 with the song “The Spark” which to my ear is simply flawless and should’ve catapulted Brian to every radio station and Spotify playlist in the indie pop and alt singer/songwriter world.

Then, well you know, we were all forced to take a break. And during that period, Brian spent much of his time as a devoted husband and now, most recently, a father. He also runs a monthly songwriter round at Urban Lodge Brewing where he plays a huge role in raising up the regional songwriter community by utilizing all of his experience on the road and in the studio.

He is starting to release his next batch of music and following up my favorite Brian Jarvis era to date with what I’m deeming the “Something New” era. He seems to have taken what he was doing in his “World On Fire” period and added a new sense of perspective while further defining his sonic landscape making it impossible not to connect with his words and his songs. I’d add his latest tunes, “Something New” and “Stay” to my personal Brian Jarvis greatest hits record for certain and I’m excited to hear what he’s got in store as he releases more new music in 2025.

If Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young were writing the songs and Roseanne Cash was singing while she stared out the window at a starry night sky knowing her true love was on a rocket ship to the moon - and the band backing her up was the backing band on Jackson Browne’s Running On Empty Record, - it might sound like Inner Groove

Inner Groove is a Folk/Americana duo comprised of Denise Jones and Tom Sekscenski.

Their song catalog, 3 albums in, all truly feels like a beating heart in all its beauty and human imperfections laid amongst a garden of sunflowers on a slightly colder than usual early August evening. Sweet but not too sweet. Honest but hopeful…

But for me…the magic dust in this group is that once the flawless roots driven musical foundation is laid down by Tom…the vocal delivery grabs you by the shoulders with both hands and pulls you in.

Denise’s voice is beautiful. It’s somehow both powerful and delicate. The harmonies on their records take that sweetness in the vocal and add the CSNY color that I personally find the most endearing about their records. At times

Denise’s vocal also has this “country-command” and authority to it that I can’t help but recall the best of Shania Twain or Reba McEntire.

With a voice that seamlessly pivots between Thom Yorke & Jeff Buckley (it’s honestly mind blowing on occasion ), a sonic presence plucked from the best of Gregory Alan Isakov with shadows of the softer sides of Neal Young’s catalog, Lucas Neil is an artist’s artist making modern ambient new folk with depth. Laced with poetic imagery and subtle obscure yet powerful statements, Lucas’ super power is his command of melody amongst the smokey sonic backdrop he paints both instrumentally and with the “width” of his vocal tone. My dear friend, and internationally touring songwriter Eddie Seville said it best when he heard Lucas perform w/ his group Undercover Cameo at the 1st Annual 21 Songwriters Festival. He walked off stage and told me “those two sing colors man. It’s like from a different planet. It’s unbelievable!” I couldn’t agree more Eddie! The talent is undeniable and the sound is almost physically tangible

Tracy’s got a musical swagger and subtle grit reminiscent of the best of John Mellencamp with a vocal delivery that carries the storytelling pacing and undertone of Bowie.

This combines with a subtle hint of wrasp in his lower register and a hint of the gentle side of Neil Young or Jackson Browne when he sings in his higher register - making his vocal delivery incredibly dynamic and essentially “tangible” coming out of the speakers.

But outside of that aformentioned almost shapeshifting vocal capability - Tracy Walton is a dynamic artist that thinks and creates far beyond the walls of the typical singer/songwriter.

His songs have layers lyrically that are emulated and amplified by a keen sense of production and sonic space. His deep love of music and his innate ability to create this sonic landscape is most likely why he is the owner and operating producer/engineer at On Deck Studios in Northfield, CT. (A studio that has done wonderful work to support and nourish the regional singer/songwriter community.)

I listened to almost everything Tracy has released to try and get a singular pulse on him as an artist, but after I ripped apart maybe 20 of his songs, I essentially found elements of everything that is awesome in any piece of important music over the last 60 years.

So now I’m thinking that’s his super power.

Everything starts with a great song and Tracy’s got a Mack truckload of those. But what makes his music so special is that he seems to write and record with the concept of the whole song wrapped around the words. There’s something very powerful about an artist that can lyrically write a verse with a creative but in depth knowledge of how to make those words connect further inside of instrumentation, vibe, presence, and production.

Tracy is a pillar in the regional music community as both an artist and a mentor/teacher/producer and I’m super thankful for all the work he’s done to give so many artists in the region opportunities to grow as creatives and performers.

I’m on a 90 minute drive diving into the Henning Ohlenbusch catalog for the first time. As a complete work- in all the best ways, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s an emotionally captivating vocalist akin to the best of Ben Kwelller, with a sonic production style as much Peter Gabriel as it is Guster. Yet at times he’s as comfortably traditional folk/americana as he is experimentally brilliant. This all surrounds a poetic lyrical perspective akin to Paul Simon.

In my experience, some singer/songwriters are simply pure artists in that everything they touch turns into a heartfelt creative endeavor and everything they see has a story. I’m new to Henning Ohlenbusch and have not met him yet, but his incredible catalog makes me think he’s one of those brilliant creatives you meet once or twice in your life and you’re not the same human after a conversation with them…a pure artist through and through.

Performing as a solo artist and as part of like a dozen great projects, Henning himself is walking, breathing, thinking, art in its most authentic form

Hailing from Pittsfield, Massachusetts is a multi-instrumentalist and vocal powerhouse that was put on my radar only a few months ago…but wow! I mean wow!

If you follow my 365 albums in 365 days challenge that I’ve done for the last 4 years, you’ve probably noticed my affection for gospel music and legendary soul/gospel singers from Sam Cooke to Mavis Staples. Vocalists like that create a sonic presence that I’m deeply drawn to and in turn, they make up a huge portion of my music catalog. Well as soon as I heard Bile’ sing “just know I’m a truth teller” and the sub woofers on my stereo system kicked in…I was hooked!

With a swagger half way in between Macy Grey and Dusty Springfield and a vocal that borrows as much from my all time favorite soul singer Roberta Flack, as it does gospel, jazz, early blues, and the mainstream side of Americana - Christine Bile’ is an absolute breath of fresh air and I became an instant fan the moment Mark Sherry sent me her music!

Even now, as I write this blurb on a Sunday morning in the parking lot of a Home Depot, her vocal is coming out of my car stereo and it’s almost “huggable” the way it fills every speaker, pulls you in, and then wraps around you carrying a message of honest hope and authentic positivity.

Cliff Eberhardt:

Some of these write-ups are harder to write than others and have taken me a lot more time than I originally thought. Truth is, these Bigger Beast community driven songwriter festivals started with artists I personally knew and I had no nervousness about posting quick write ups on social media about my admiration for their creative works.

But with great partnerships that have developed, in this case with the New Music Alliance, the lineups have begun to grow outside the invisible borders I put in my mind and beyond my wildest dreams. In turn, they are now including artists that I have truly admired from afar for decades…

And that’s how I need to start my introduction of former taxi driver, tour mate of icons like Richie Havens, and absolute songwriting giant, Mr. Cliff Eberhardt.

Cliff’s music has sincerely taught me so much at so many times along my own artistic journey.

He takes the grit and emotion of Bruce Springsteen and weaves in the compositional mastery of James Taylor. He does this while carrying with him the melodic genius of the best of the classic American songbook - using that knowledge with such precision in his songs.

Soulful but articulate…

Intelligent but authentically emotional…

Expertly crafted but as easy to absorb as fresh air…

Sincerely…Cliff is brilliant and awe inspiring. To my ear, his songs are poetically subtle but incredibly potent. I have to stop myself sometimes and just listen as a fan instead of trying to learn everything I can from every note.

A Western New England Songwriting Legend- just coming off a huge national tour w/ Patti Larkin, Lucy Kaplanski, John Gorka, & Cheryl Wheeler - he’s not only performing at The 1st Annual 21 Songwriters Musician Festival (Western New England Edition), but he’s also going above and beyond by giving a free songwriting workshop for any artist who wants to attend earlier in the day

Ever wonder what it would sound like if some of those Texas, Nashville, & Alabama Twinged acoustic folk/Americana storytellers like Justin Townes Earle, Townes Van Zandt, & Patterson Hood were from New England?

You might get stories that include references to Cumberland Farms and ironic anecdotes about hanging out with your cat on the couch cause it’s too cold outside - instead of stories based on dusty roads, references to cypress, and biographic tales of bandits…you might get Dylan Patrick Ward.

In a music world where the appreciation for the folk troubadour has experienced a recent resurgence nationally, it’s easy to find a lot of “the same” and a lack of “authenticity”. Absolutely none of that exists with Dylan Patrick Ward. Clever, poetic, comical, honest, and captivating, Ward lyrically bounces artistically and seemingly effortlessly between homespun heartfelt human interest stories from the blue collar side of a Western New England life to comically introspective references of house pets and Stephen King. It’s Shakespearean in a way honestly.

Henning Ohlenbusch:

I’m on a 90 minute drive diving into the Henning Ohlenbusch catalog for the first time. As a complete work- in all the best ways, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s an emotionally captivating vocalist akin to the best of Ben Kwelller, with a sonic production style as much Peter Gabriel as it is Guster. Yet at times he’s as comfortably traditional folk/americana as he is experimentally brilliant. This all surrounds a poetic lyrical perspective akin to Paul Simon.

In my experience, some singer/songwriters are simply pure artists in that everything they touch turns into a heartfelt creative endeavor and everything they see has a story. I’m new to Henning Ohlenbusch and have not met him yet, but his incredible catalog makes me think he’s one of those brilliant creatives you meet once or twice in your life and you’re not the same human after a conversation with them…a pure artist through and through.

Performing as a solo artist and as part of like a dozen great projects, Henning himself is walking, breathing, thinking, art in its most authentic form.

“If this was your movie, you’d get to pick your part” (Heather McLarney)

Well Heather…

It’s 7:02am and I’m sitting in my car in a coffee shop parking lot. It’s raining just enough to watch the thumb tack sized water pellets slowly race down my windshield as that first shot of espresso is slowly kicking in.

I pressed play on you latest album “There To Be Found”, and a truly tangible sonic moment formed right in front of my newly caffeinated eyes…

In turn, I’ve chosen my part in today’s movie…the part of a “Heather McLarney Fan” .

Part back beat driven, four on the floor, grooves and part heart on your sleeve acoustic pop songstress, with a hint of “vintage” folk pop undertones reminiscent of the best of Lisa Loeb - Heather McLarney writes the kind of songs that sound like she’s melodically reciting the inner thoughts that run through our heads.

The ones you don’t always say out loud but would if you felt people would truly listen . The ones that make you ponder the world’s small but most powerful intricacies as you push through the hard to describe moments life tends to eventually throw at us all.

The album has a hint of twang that comes from that Nashville influence permeating into almost every singer/songwriters’ sonic atmosphere in the last ten years.

But the vocal delivery and songwriting perspective truly feels like one of my favorite parts of the early 2000’s - The powerful but relatively short lived “neo mellow” pop songwriter explosion that gave us a truckload of anthems from artists like Michelle Branch, Vanessa Carlton, & Colbie Caillat. This sound went alongside that introspective and lyrically descriptive songwriting style that became synonymous with folks like Rob Thomas and James Blunt at that time.

Ya know - the kind a songs where you put your car window down and sing at the top of your lungs leaving work at 5:15pm on a Friday after a long week! These are the kind of songs Heather writes!

All in all, to my ears, Heather McLarney is a singer/songwriter with something to say, a lyrical viewpoint that’s introspective but visible, and the ability to pen your new favorite song (she may have already done so as there’s a collection of powerhouse tunes on her latest record!

So in complete transparency, I was new to Lara’s music. I knew her name, but hadn’t dove into her music. That gave me the incredible opportunity to absorb her entire catalog - over 22 years worth of songs

So what did I discover?

Poetic Authenticity amplified by an incredibly precise crystal clear voice that to my ear carries little pieces of sonic gold that seem to borrow some of the best tonal qualities from folks like Kate Bush, Karen Carpenter, Nina Persson of The Cardigans, Brandi Carlisle, & Judy Collins.

Legit, Lara can sing!

And that’s super important because the words she’s singing need to be heard.

Sonically, Lara seamlessly sways between pure traditional New England folk & ethereal mellow gold esque Americana with a hint of traditional jazz undertones. It’s really quite remarkable.

What impressed me most was her clever, genuine, and absolutely pin point perfect use of language inside of melody to tell stories, convey emotion, and tell such vivid stories that make me feel as though I could close my eyes and watch the lyrics she’s singing in my head like a Dolby surround sound movie.

Honestly - she’s brilliant and we’re lucky to have her in Western New England.

I wanted to write ten new songs after listening to her catalog .

Louise Coombe:

With a voice that somehow carries atoms of Rhiannon Giddons, Sarah Watkins, and Gillian Welch - Louise Coombe could sing in a dead forgotten language and I would be enthralled…but she doesn’t. She sings some of the best penned songs I’ve heard come out of New England in all my years on this planet.

Legit…the songs are brilliant. She paints pictures lyrically like a melodic renaissance painter and tells stories like a gospel inspired Mark Twain. Intelligent, magnetic, and poignant with a timeless quality and an almost Bonnie Raitt esque swagger in her cadence at times; listening to her catalog has been an inspiring experience for me.

Louise was a 1st round pick by our partner on this festival, the New Music Alliance, and I’m ashamed of myself for only now finding out about her. Every track is flawless. Sincerely flawless…

On behalf of the entire Bigger Beast/All Boats Rise Ent. team - we are simply honored to have Louise Coombe on the 1st Annual 21 Songwriters Music Festival (Western New England Edition). She raises the bar and I’m personally hyped to see her live for the first time!

Founding member of the Massachusetts based band FAT who toured nationally supporting The Allman Brothers in the 70’s - Peter J. Newland is a Western New England icon.

FAT paused their touring in the 80’s but not before sharing the stage with other noteworthy acts including Grand Funk Railroad, and Johnny Winter.

Peter headed towards Nashville, New Orleans, & Mississippi after the band took a break, to pursue a songwriting career leading to legends like Hank Williams Junior & Alan Jackson recording the songs he penned!

His time in Nashville also led Peter down a new road building community through the arts. He worked to help build after school programs centered around the arts which lowered violence and gang participation as well as raised graduation rates in Tennessee

Since moving back home to Springfield, MA - Peter has taken his passion for community and social justice to another level helping an immeasurable amount of causes and working to pilot a mountains worth of major music events including the city’s Jazz & Roots Festival as well as JAM4SPRINGFIELD which is an avenue towards further social change for the youth of Western New England

Peter is an absolutely incredible example of what a determined artist can do to build a better world.

Lyrically clever and impactful, sonically brilliant and emotive - from humble beginnings at open mics in Springfield, MA to hundreds of thousands of streams and a Grammy nomination - Taija New is a pop singer/songwriter steeped in hip hop, R&B, and rhythmic soul.

With an intelligent approach to the rhythmic elements of words, to my ears her writing recalls elements of the brilliance in Mary J. Blige’s catalog.

In true songwriting troubadour fashion, Taija is fearless and 1,000% authentic. In 2015, she released her debut EP "Color Me Complex" which included her popular single 'Newbian King'; a song that defies the gender binary and bore her nickname. This eventually led to her sharing the stage with icons like Jennifer Hudson.

Taija New’s music is potent. Her delivery is powerful. Her words are important, need to be heard, and she’s the right person to deliver them.

Okay, so I have no business describing Tony Vacca’s music…this man is operating on another wavelength. Seriously…I’ve broken out three different thesaurus’s and I can’t find the right words

Tony is an incredible percussionist that composes music steeped in World Music roots with a deep knowledge of American Jazz.

He’s been performing from the US to West Africa for over 30 years and uses drumming as a tool to discover and nurture common ground in a globalized community. This belief and perspective makes his music incredibly powerful and soulful.

This has led to collaborations with a magnitude of artists across the globe including pop icon Sting (), Senegalese Afro-pop star Baaba Maal, Jazz trumpeter and World Music legend Don Cherry, the undefinable Yusef Lateef, poet Abiodun Oyewole of The Last Poets, Senegalese Hip-Hop stars Bideew Bou Bess, as well as Gokh-bi System, and Massamba Diop, Senegalese master of the tama or “talking drum”.

Subtle but potent, creatively unique but attainable- with fragments of Death Cab for Cutie, Lorde, The Paper Kites, & Mazzy Star but yet maintaining a pop sensibility reminiscent of the best of early Avril Levine - Audrey Pearl is a sonic vacation to a tiny quiet air bnb in the woods of New England in early October. It’s just cold enough to want to stay inside after 6pm and there’s only enough working outlets for an old heater the size of a shoebox and a vintage turntable. So you light a few dollar store candles, huddle in front of the heater, and start spinning the stack of old dusty Lou Reed, David Bowie, and Doors albums left there as decoration. A perfect night created in a world of complex simplicity 🙏
I absolutely love Audrey’s 2024 EP Long Term Plans as her vocal is truly captivating and the production choices are brilliantly modern with a sense of nostalgia.

If P!nk were produced by The Postal Service or Death Cab for Cutie, it might sound a lot like Ali T’s latest record, Pancakes At Midnight.
Woven into Ali’s DNA is a natural, almost subconscious command of melodic pop perfection. Her lyrics spill with the emotional immediacy of Dashboard Confessional, layered with a deep understanding of melodic syncopation and phrasing that feels both effortless and surgically precise.
Organic instrumentation keeps the sound grounded and honest, but the hooks? They punch with the cleverness and clarity of early Fall Out Boy—catchy, clean, and addictive.
What sets Ali apart is her vocal presence: a confident, expressive voice that channels the mid-tempo angst and soul of Jagged Little Pill-era Alanis Morissette. It’s just the right amount of edge, just the right amount of heart—purely authentic, pure pop ear candy.
And somehow, all of this—every clever turn of phrase, every perfectly placed harmony—is folded neatly into a subtle origami package that floats effortlessly from your car speakers like steam off your favorite cup of tea on a brisk Vermont October morning.
Brilliant. Poetic. Catchy. Completely her own. Ali T is a pop powerhouse wrapped in indie charm.

Frank Erickson is what happens when the vocal fragility of Michael Stipe meets the almost slightly ethereal emotional angst of Billy Corgan—and then someone hands him a mandolin. It’s a combination that shouldn’t work this well, but somehow does, brilliantly. In this post-rock era where Americana traditions are making a quiet resurgence, Erickson plants his flag at the intersection of alternative introspection and rootsy, acoustic honesty.
His music carries a kind of raw, unvarnished vulnerability—the kind that once made rock ‘n’ roll more than just sound, but soul. There’s a sincerity in his recordings that feels refreshingly out of step with polished trends, like flipping through a long-lost journal set to melody. It’s sparse, aching, and quietly powerful.
Enthusiastically adored by our partners at The Lakeshore Community Event Series, Frank was one of their first-round picks for this lineup —and for good reason. The fragments of music he’s released so far on SoundCloud are more than just promising; they’re hauntingly beautiful glimpses of a songwriter worth watching.

With a voice that soars like a vintage love letter written on parchment with a feathered pen and carried off in an autumn breeze, Frankie White sings like she’s discovering the truth right alongside you.
Her intricately simple, yet beautifully complex melodies glide over a sparse, pristine sonic backdrop—landing somewhere between the modern intimacy of Billie Eilish and the timeless elegance of Americana icons like Alison Krauss and Brandi Carlile. Each song feels alive, as if you’re witnessing her write and sing it in real time.
Hints of Tori Amos peek through in her alchemical approach to sound—ethereal yet grounded, delicate yet potent. And always, anchoring it all, is White’s unmistakable voice: a tethered kite that drifts skyward but always knows exactly where to land.
It’s soul with just enough grit. Honesty with just enough mystery. Frankie White isn’t just a songwriter—she’s a modern pop powerhouse with roots in something ancient and real.

Carrying the swagger of Bonnie Raitt with the delicate soul of Norah Jones, Giovanina Bucci’s music feels like a vintage sports car driving 30 miles below the speed limit on the dusty back roads of northern New England looking for free old furniture on the curb to hand restore with love and creativity. Vintage but reimagined, creative and authentic, but with a profound understanding of how a song is supposed to be written and performed to set a mood.

Her album Storyteller is an example of sincere perfection as her voice sits perfectly upon a bed of sonic precision, soul, and beautifully crafted texture while she tells you stories as if she’s standing right next to you in her vintage inspired kitchen carefully polishing the antique salt and pepper shakers.

With hints of blues, country, jazz, soul, and Americana - Giovanina Bucci seems to find the rare space in the venn diagram where all these genres meet to create a beautifully textured sound that is as artistically inspired as it is warm, inviting, and familiar.

Jesse Taylor is an unapologetic indie rock force—a sonic wrecking ball wrapped in analog warmth, with a vocal delivery that lands somewhere between the raw edge of Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and the dark glamour of Shirley Manson (Garbage). Beneath it all lies a lo-fi hum reminiscent of White Light/White Heat-era Velvet Underground—gritty, haunting, and defiantly unpolished.

She doesn’t walk the well-worn path of alt-pop. She carves her own, leaving a breadcrumb trail of 80s punk grit, 90s pop hooks, and early 2000s indie rock introspection. Jesse Taylor isn’t interested in genre boxes—she sets them on fire and uses the ashes to scrawl lyrics on the bathroom mirror.

Her songwriting is a paradox: sharply poetic yet disarmingly direct. There’s sincerity laced with a wink of sarcasm, a kind of rock-and-roll mischief tempered by a Northern New England songwriter’s soul. Listening to her feels like stumbling into a dive bar in an artsy town you can’t find on Google Maps, only to meet someone who rewires your brain in a 20-minute conversation. You step out to take a call, and when you return—she’s gone. No trace. Just the echo of a voice that blurred the lines, shook you to the core, and left you aching for more.

Jesse Taylor isn’t just an artist. She’s an experience.

Kenny was the first person in Connecticut to get me a real gig in my home state after I graduated from college. He knew every bar in northern CT with live music and had regular gigs at a ton
He started inviting me to sit in with him at his local shows and would then introduce me to venue bookers, helping me land my own gigs. 🙏
Musically, Kenny’s hooks are unmatched. You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone in New England who writes a hook like him. His albums always set a vibe from start to finish, and by the second listen, you’re already singing along. When you study Kenny’s writing, it’s clear he’s a student of the “word”—his dynamic use of syllables gives his lyrics a depth that’s similar to Paul Simon’s solo work. He’s a master of “near rhymes,” and his vocal delivery creates a secondary groove that sits perfectly inside the drum patterns.
His 2006 album Now lived in my car’s 6-disc changer for years until my sister “borrowed” it. That record taught me about lyrical “hooks within hooks,” using the power of syllables and internal rhyme schemes.
From fronting powerhouse bands like The Groove Holmes Band in 1997 to Fivewise in the early 2000s, to embarking on a solo career and sharing the stage with giants like Train, Kenny has always been a force. After stepping back from his 200+ show a year schedule to be a dad to his newborn triplet daughters, he’s back on the road and in the studio, recording his fourth solo album (the follow-up to his 2017 release Cornbread & Whiskey) to be released by Universal Music Group.
Long story short - Kenny blends soul, hip-hop, country, and pop-infused southern rock in a way that was ahead of its time. Modern country rap mash up, in my ears, is a poor man’s excuse for Kenny Mehler’s “Moses Brown” released over a decade ago! He’s his own genre, creating his own stages, blazing his own path—and never looking back!

Michael Perry carries the nonchalant soul of a Gen Z Tom Waits in the front pocket of his worn-in jeans—right next to a soft pack of cigarettes and a notebook full of truths too honest for polite company. With the gravelly vocal ache of Tyler Childers and the emotional voltage of Glenn Hansard, Perry delivers a sound that’s as authentically backwoods Vermont as it is disarmingly present and profoundly human.
Listening to him feels like peeling back the surface of everyday life and catching a glimpse of something deeper—something real. There’s a raw, almost cosmic quality to his performances, as if his voice can tear open a portal in your chest and show you the soul of the world: bruised, beautiful, and beating hard.
He’s a poetic voice for the blue-collar everyman, equal parts barroom philosopher and backwoods troubadour. Whether he’s coaxing your last shot of whiskey with a wink or wrestling it from your grip with a storyteller’s charm, Michael Perry isn’t just singing—he’s translating the quiet chaos of being alive.
These aren’t just songs. They’re necessary truths, spoken with grit, grace, and a kind of honesty that sticks with you long after the last note fades.

When Andrew James sings it sounds like the best of Hayes Carl if he grew up in the backwoods of Vermont. Sticky and woodsy like fresh Maple Syrup versus sticky and rugged like the southern molasses soul you get from the iconic Hayes. I dig it!
James’ musical partner Elizabeth Patterson feels sonically cut from the cloth of The Mamas & Papas’ Michelle Phillips … casually flawless harmonies with a depth to her lead vocal that doesn’t push but rather taps you on the shoulder and invites you in for iced tea and a randomly inspiring conversation that goes until somebody falls asleep at the table past 3am.
Together, the duo brings you to one of the hippest churches ever where everybody sits on the grass outside, the wine is bountiful, delicious, and free, and you’re allowed to bring your dog 🙂
Soulful but light, poignant yet subtle, this duo was a perfect recommendation by our partners at the Lakeshore Community Event Series. I’m truly excited to see them live!

There’s a comfortable wisdom in the songs of Phil Henry—like your favorite college professor who’d meet you at the pub after class to talk about everything from life’s heaviest questions to your favorite TV show. Carrying a low-key Timbuktu shoulder bag brimming with perfectly crafted, folk-tinged Americana songs, Phil is a subtle powerhouse.

Evoking echoes of Graham Nash with hints of James Taylor, Paul Simon, and Harry Chapin, he delivers brilliant folk tunes with ease—and throws in curveballs of Sam Cooke-style soul vibes, all wrapped in his signature storytelling brilliance. Phil Henry tells stories layered with perspective, beauty, intelligence, hope, and a profound empathy that reveals a deep understanding of the human condition.

A cornerstone of the New England folk scene, Phil is simply brilliant—and we are beyond honored to welcome him to the 1st Annual 21 Songwriters Music Festival (Burlington VT Edition)!

Frank Viele’s brand of New England blues rock tugs at the heartstrings, pulling the listener on a surprise journey that transcends genre.

Yet even as he’s racked up accolades over the past 7 years — including New England Music Awards for Album of the Year, Male Performer of the Year, Songwriter of The Year (X2), and Live Act of The Year for gutsy, gritty tracks like “Broken Love Song” and “‘Til The Bourbon’s All Gone” — he’s rarely paused to savor the moment before moving on to yet another tour, album, or collaboration.

As the Founder and President of Bigger Beast Records, All Boats Rise Entertainment, and Analog Hype Machine, he has been steadily building the foundation for a middle class of independent musicians across New England and beyond.