Appalachian Hospitality

One For the Ages at Laurel Cove Music Festival

Three generations of music lovers at Laurel Cove Music Festival

It’s music festival season, which for me brings equal measures of excitement and dread. Festivals have been a big part of my life for a long time. I started off spoiled rotten with several European festival runs in the 90s as a member of The Lemonheads. When we weren’t onstage, I’d go from bus to trailer to catering to onstage viewing, never having to worry about access. More recently, it’s become a tradition to take my kids to Bonnaroo every year. That means tripling my daily steps just trying to keep up and fielding a slew of complaints about the heat, scheduling conflicts, or access to viewing areas.

Festivals are often part of the job for those of us who work in music. When I ran a label, I’d strategically attend festivals to pursue A&R goals. I learned that some festivals are less accommodating to industry folks, which isn’t a big surprise. There’s always a hierarchy, with some of us there because we’re actually working (managers and agents of acts on the bill), others pursuing professional objectives (such as A&R), and others just there for the hang. Having a strong industry presence definitely changes the dynamic, and it can be a vibe killer. I tend to hold out for smaller festivals where I have connections that will make it easy for me to be where I need to be, where there’s less industry presence. That usually means getting a bit off the beaten path. All my favorite festivals, from Newport Folk to Eaux Claire, are smaller festivals with a real feeling of community.

I’ve heard about Laurel Cove Music Festival for years - it’s well off the beaten path in the Southeastern corner of Kentucky close to the Tennessee and Virginia borders, deep in Appalachia. It’s a must for people who love Appalachian music, which has a rich tradition that is bedrock for the country music business. There’s an incredibly rich lineage from The Carter Family to Hazel Dickens to Docs Boggs and Watson to Dolly to Tyler Childers to Sierra Ferrell, who is a past headliner of Laurel Cove. Although the programming isn’t strictly Appalachian musicians, every artist is clearly influenced by music from the region.

I met the festival organizer Jon Grace over email making arrangements for two acts I work with on this year’s bill, The Red Clay Strays and Jake Kohn. Jon is the Director of Tourism for Bell County, the site of Pine Mountain State Park and the Laurel Cove Amphitheater. “Surrounded by old growth hemlock and rhododenron, with a rock cliff behind the stage and a small pond in front, the 1,400 seat [theater] looks like an Appalachian dreamscape come to life.” Naturally, when Jon invited me to come to the festival, I jumped at the chance.

One piece of advice if you go to a music festival: always roll up with the manager of the headlining act. OK, that’s never been an option before, but I did have the good fortune to arrive with Cody, manager of Red Clay Strays. Parking is an issue at Laurel Cove, which is limited to 2,500 attendees due to the size of the amphitheater as well as the scarcity of parking. We drove directly on site and met with Mr. Grace, who handed us our all-access wristbands through the window of the truck from his golf cart. He said, “welcome,” and drove off to put out the next fire.

It was immediately apparent that we didn’t really need our passes. Artists and festival goers wandered through the catering tent without issue. Areas weren’t clearly delineated, and it didn’t matter - everyone seemed to know each other. Everyone seemed friendly, welcoming, and in a great mood. We had a quick meal and hustled to the main stage to catch the end of Miles Miller’s set. Miles, the longtime drummer and harmony singer from Sturgill Simpson’s band, released an excellent solo album last year titled Solid Gold. He sat behind the drums and sang, Levon-style, in a trio setting backed by electric guitar and bass. I heard a few tunes from Solid Gold, rocked up a bit from the mellow acoustic guitar-driven arrangements on the album.

I ran into Jon Grace on the way to see Brennan Edwards on the smaller “Creekside” stage. Jon, an amiable guy in overalls (so many overalls at Laurel Cove), shook my hand and thanked me warmly for making the trip. He told me it meant a lot to him and his fellow organizers that I came. This is a first for me, to have a festival organizer thank me for attending a festival. I thanked him back for being so accommodating and welcoming. He said, “we call that ‘Appalachian Hospitality.’” People seemed to know each other at Laurel Cove, but positively everyone knew Jon Grace. I’m sure Laurel Cove’s legend will grow, because it’s already achieved what most festivals never manage - it’s a real community built around music.

Brennan Edwards, from Virginia, is one of my favorite artists from the region. A triple threat with a strong tenor voice with just enough grit, a gift for melody, and a mastery of both bluegrass flatpicking and folk fingerstyle guitar, it’s hard to believe he isn’t much better know. He’s a commanding performer, conversational and relaxed onstage while delivering his evocative songs with a calm intensity. It’s a rare thing to find a music festival where it isn’t really about the hang; it’s about the music. People come back each year for the excellent programming, great music in a beautiful setting. Several musicians expressed to me that Laurel Cove is something they prioritize, not in spite of the intimate setting but because of it. It’s a favorite for musicians, which makes the programming easier. They want to be there.

The stages are probably a little less than 1/4 miles apart, separated by a beautiful trail under a canopy of old growth trees. An audiovisual crew set up at the halfway point on the trail to capture artist sessions, which meant we had to be extremely quiet on the multiple foot trips between stages. The main stage, the amphitheater, is built into a cave formation with a natural slope to the stage and a pond directly in front of the stage. I caught most of the main stage set by the excellent Southern rock belter Taylor Hunnicut. Taylor is a pal of the Strays, also from Mobile, booked to open one of their upcoming Ryman shows in Nashville next fall. Looking forward to it; she’s a rock star. After the set I quickly made my way back to the creekside stage to see Noeline Hoffman.

Trail between the Creek Stage and Amphitheater

Noeline has been on my radar for about six months. She’s from southern Alberta, Canada, with a colorful past that includes working on a cattle ranch. It’s hard to believe she’s as young as she is (21?). I became a fan when a friend who works with Rick Ruben sent me her music. She has a number of videos on YouTube, but until recently she had nothing on streaming platforms. One day before her Laurel Cove set, however, Zach Bryan released his new song Purple Gas, which is a Neline Hoffman cover and duet. That’s how she managed to go from zero to over a million and a half monthly listeners on Spotify in less than a week. It’s truly weird in nearly 30 years inside the genre to live to see this formerly outsider music become mainstream.

My favorite song she played is a cover of a Luke Bell song titled The Bullfighter. Luke is a singer songwriter from Wyoming I knew and admired during a brief time he lived in Nashville around 2016. He struggled with mental illness and died of fentanyl intoxication as a result of his Bipolar disorder. I met with Luke and his manager in 2019 and considered signing him to Rounder, but he disappeared from the scene soon after our meeting. He’s in a tragic class of brilliant writers who left us far too soon, but the modest body of work he left behind confirms he was one of the greats. I’ve hoped that his work would find an audience, and hearing Noeline sing his song made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Regardless of her association with Zach, she is a star and yet another great artist who will help define Americana music for the next generation. I think this video was filmed at Laurel Cove last year.

If you haven’t heard Jake Kohn from Winchester, Virginia, pause and give it a listen. Watch some of his videos on Appalachia Untold. He’s truly incredible. I started working with Jake and his family over a year ago when he was 15. He’s just turned 17, and the progress he’s made as an artist in that short time is remarkable. I’m reminded that it’s been a year since I first saw Jake perform, the same night as I first saw the Strays, at a small roadhouse venue in North Georgia called Tooney’s. That was a big night for the Strays because it was their first sellout outside of Mobile, their home town. That was May, 2023. It took them seven years to sell out a venue, then it took a few months to reach headliner level and sell out multiple nights at the Ryman. Say what you will about social media; but as a tool for artist development, it’s a new ballgame. For artists like Jake Kohn and The Red Clay Strays, artists whose work is captivating enough to translate on social platforms, it’s a glorious time.

Jake’s solo show came off very well; his shows are at once more relaxed and more powerful each time I’ve seen him. He had a tough slot, playing right up to the Stray’s set time on a stage that’s a ten minute walk from the main stage; but he held the crowd. With no stage lighting on the Creekside stage, Jake ended his set in near total darkness with a cover of Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You. I love it when young artists discover and repurpose the music that inspired me as an artist, though I’ll confess it makes me feel old to think Jake was born over fifteen years after Mazzy Star’s debut.

I’ve already shared on these pages that the Strays are currently my favorite band, and my love for them deepens with each incredible show. Laurel Cove is a “throw & go” scenario: set up, quick line check, then play. For the first few songs the rapt audience remained seated; but as the energy built up people rose to their feet. Towards the end of the set when they launched into their best-known song, Wondering Why, a group from backstage organized by the Hippies and Cowboys podcast crew marched into the pond. Audience members quickly followed until several hundred people plunged into the pond. Then the band siezed the moment and took it up several levels.

The Strays’ usual closing number is Don’t Care, the only song by the band written by their iconic, pompadoured singer Brandon Coleman on his own. It’s an exercise in lyrical minimalism, just a few lines sung under a simple guitar riff. The song slowly builds to the closing lines

Well I’ve lived my life and I don’t care if I die
Yes I’ve lived my life and I don’t care if I die
I’m on a one way road to glory, I’ll leave all my troubles behind

Then the band builds to a propulsive crescendo and suddenly drops out for Brandon to passionately sing the final line in full voice approaching a shout

Well I lived my life and I…. DON’T CARE IF I DIE!

At this point every voice in the theater joins the refrain as the pond crashers splash in a symbolic baptism. It’s one of the most transcendent moments I’ve ever witnessed in a musical performanc. It’s equal parts arena rock showmanship and old country revival. It’s a perfect moment, and the encore that follows drives it home. Watch at 5:00:

As if the show needed yet another climactic moment, the night closed with a set by the Strays’ “punk” side band, The Psych Peas. The Peas are fronted by Mobile artist/poet/singer/songwriter Abe Partridge, a longtime mentor and collaborator. I don’t know what to compare it to, so I’m glad it’s on YouTube. I’ve seen Scratch Acid and Butthole Surfers in their prime, and that’s the context. It was beautiful chaos, made even more chaotic when volunteers started breaking down the stage in the middle of the Peas’ set. I really can’t imagine how it could have been any better.

If there’s one unifying theme of this Substack, it’s that music is about community. Music is important because it connects us by our shared humanity. Laurel Cove Festival is beautiful because it’s a community of artists and fans sharing in their love of this music of the region, music that’s as old as the hills and as fresh as a mountain bloom. You can bet I’ll be back!