Molly Tuttle, Louisa Branscomb, Sierra Hull, and Missy Raines Forty-eight years ago, chasing sunshine 'round the bend, Louisa Brancomb penned Steel Rails; twenty-nine years ago, winding through the trees, like a ribbon in the wind, Alison Krauss recorded it. Not knowing what
Award-winning songwriter Louisa Branscomb is stepping up to help musicians and music lovers in Southport, NC, a coastal town that was ravaged by Hurricane Florence. Branscomb got to know many area residents when her non-profit organization, ScreenDoor Songwriter Alliance, hosted an
The Alabama Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame honors those from the state of Alabama that have shown great accomplishment and contribution to the bluegrass music industry. For 2019, they have selected Louisa Branscomb to receive this signal honor. According to Alabama
Louisa Branscomb knows a thing or two about songwriting, for sure. And she has two Grammys, two Song of the Year trophies (IBMA and SPBGMA), nearly 200 cuts, and a long list of hits to prove it. But her newest venture,
Award-winning songwriter Louisa Branscomb and her non-profit, Front Porch Productions, will host the first Southport Songwriter Festival this weekend in the coastal town of Southport, NC. But unlike many similar events, this one isn't centrally located, but spread across a number
As popular music keeps getting bigger, brighter, louder and more bombastic, we see more and more people drop off the other end. Looking for an expression of something genuine - something that can touch them using words and music, without laser lights, exploding
This profile of and interview with Alice Gerrard is a contribution from noted bluegrass songwriter, Louisa Branscomb, who also reviewed Gerrard's current release, Bittersweet, for Bluegrass Today. You can find out more about her music and songwriting clinics online. What’s the Kitchen Got
This review is a contribution from Louisa Branscomb, one of bluegrass music's most prolific and celebrated songwriters. Do the math: a legendary singer-songwriter singing her own, plus a producer who understands the impressive scope of the material and how to render
Somewhere around the second or third trip through the buffet line, even the best-tasting dishes start losing their appeal. Too much, even of the good stuff, is, well, too much. I couldn’t shake that feeling while listening to the Daughters of
Louisa Branscomb didn’t, as Stephen Foster might have put it, come from Alabama with a banjo on her knee. She couldn’t. Girls didn’t play banjo. “I heard that a million times when I was girl,” Louisa told me the other night.