Among the many natural wonders in Montana, Wise River runs for about 30 miles through the Southwestern region of the state, cutting through the mountains and flowing into the Big Hole River. Beyond being a favorite spot for fly fishermen, it remains etched into the topography of the land itself.  Two hours away in Bozeman, Kitchen Dwellers equally embody the spirit and soul of their home with a sonic palette as expansive as Montana’s vistas. The quartet—Shawn Swain [Mandolin], Torrin Daniels [banjo], Joe Funk [upright bass], and Max Davies [acoustic guitar]—twist bluegrass, folk, and rock through a kaleidoscope of homegrown stories, rich mythology, American west wanderlust, and psychedelic hues. After amassing 5 million-plus streams, selling out shows, and receiving acclaim from Huffington Post, Relix, American Songwriter, and more, the group brings audiences back to Big Sky Country on their third full-length album, Wise River, working with Cory Wong of Vulfpeck as producer.

“Since we weren’t on the road due to COVID-19, the music we wrote was different,” Max reveals. “It was more introspective. There were a lot of ties to Montana.”

“For the first time, we were all home for 365 days in a row, which hasn’t happened in ten years,” adds Shawn. “We were thinking of the quieter lifestyle encapsulated in the area. That comes through.”

“In the past, our songs would touch on the physical aspects of the state or reference its history and nature,” says Torrin. “These songs are more introspective, because they come from the perspective of actually being in one place. The vibe is a little more serious—given the weirdness of the past year and the shit everyone has been dealing with. Our little corner of the world has always delt with hard winters, but the whole world felt it in 2020.”

At the same time, their music continues to resound beyond that little corner. They’ve captivated audiences at hallowed venues such as Red Rocks Amphitheatre and performed alongside everyone from Railroad Earth and Twiddle to The Infamous String Dusters in addition to playing festivals such as Northwest String Summit, WinterWonderGrass, and more. They’ve released two critically acclaimed albums—Ghost In The Bottle [2017] and Muir Maid [2019]—and a live record, Live from the Wilma [2021]. They broke up 2020 with an EP of Pink Floyd covers entitled Reheated, Vol. 2. It was heralded by a two-night livestream concert, Live From The Cabin, beamed out to audiences from the Bridger Mountains. Additionally, they appeared at the Live From Out There virtual festival and even took over a drive-in movie theater for an in-person gig in between regular writing sessions together throughout the year.

In order to bring the new tunes to life, they recruited Cory behind the board as producer. Holing up at Creation Studios in Minneapolis, they recorded Wise River in just four days.

“Cory brought a little more orchestration,” Shawn reveals. “He helped us really think differently and evolve the sound as a band.”

On the single and title track “Wise River,” banjo brushes up against acoustic guitar as visuals of a “lonely river town where the barfly knows you best,” “the ghosts of miners,” and a place “where the snow can fall like cannonballs and lonesome wind blows bitter.” 

“The town of Wise River is basically a forgotten spot on the map,” Shawn says. “It used to be a thriving place with many prosperous mines, but now it’s practically dried up. There’s a hell of a lot of melancholy. In our mind, it symbolizes the overall feeling of being in slowed-down Montana life.”

Meanwhile, “Stand At Ease” gallops along on nimbly strummed banjo and bright piano towards a chanting chorus, “I can’t stand to see what you’ve done to be free.”

“That one is based on the mental health issues in the music industry coming to light over the past couple of years,” Joe reveals. “It’s about losing a lot of our friends and idols.”

“Paradise Valley” surveys the landscape as the lyrics visit the remnants of underground bunkers once occupied by a doomsday cult in the north. The finale “Their Names Are The Trees” recants another true story of tragedy in the wilderness.

“A good friend of ours is a wildland firefighter,” Shawn goes on. “He was stationed out in Oregon on the Beachie Creek Fire, which destroyed maybe three towns and killed several people. One night, they were 15 miles back from the fire line. They wondered where the fire had moved in the wind, but it overtook their camp, the entire town they were stationed in, and wiped it out. Several people didn’t make it.”

In the end, Kitchen Dwellers share timeless American stories from the heart of one of its greatest treasures.

“When you listen to Wise River, I hope you hear some of the original qualities that made us who we are, but you also recognize aspects that are new and adventurous,” Max leaves off. “If you go to a studio with a whole new batch of songs, it should never be the same as the last time. I hope you hear what it sounds like when the four of us are at home and have the space to create something together. This album is really how we sound as a band.”

The story of Cordovas is one of rock ’n’ roll seekers, hammering away in search not just for a platonic ideal of their freewheeling sound, but also for some greater truth about our experience as humans. The band is fueled by the long strange trip of frontman Joe Firstman, who had a circuitous path through his young adulthood — spat out from the major label system, a stint as a bandleader on Last Call With Carson Daly, and finally finding his way back to himself, a mystic classicist who has guided Cordovas through their own series of twists and turns. That includes their new record The Rose of Aces, which finds them returning with their finest collection of music yet.  Cordovas’ origins go all the way back the early ‘10s, when Firstman decided he was best with a band around him. After releasing a self-titled debut and undergoing various iterations, things really started cooking when guitarist Lucca Soria joined the fold. Firstman describes him as “the one soldier that understands what I’m doing best.” Soon the band’s vision cohered further, and they signed to ATO, releasing the quick one-two of That Santa Fe Channel in 2018 and Destiny Hotel in 2020.  While it might seem like Cordovas were away a bit longer this time, the music never stopped. The group, in whatever form it currently exists, is always active. “When you finish your record, you’re starting the next one,” Firstman explains. Cordovas is a state of constant flow: Firstman, Soria, and their various co-conspirators gathering in their twin outposts — a farm in Nashville, and a hideout in the artist community of the Baja California town Todos Santos — to jam out ideas. Before the dust remotely began to settle on Destiny Hotel, Cordovas were already back in the shop, working up a trove of songs from which The Rose of Aces would emerge. Once Cordovas had about 20 songs they were happy with, they linked up with producer Cory Hanson. Firstman bemusedly describes the theoretical mismatch of the pairing — Hanson the Southern California kid coming out to Nashville to work with “a whole bunch of, you know, Americans.” Whatever culture clash might’ve been there was just extra gasoline. “He brought a super-charged way of thinking because he’s a genius,” Firstman says. “He’s built his life wanting to sound like himself.” Hanson ended up contributing vocals and guitar to the album as well.  The Rose of Aces begins with a conjuring. “Your song comes on like a cure/ And you remember who you were before/ How many times did music save your soul?” Firstman asks on opener “Fallen Angels of Rock ’n’ Roll.” He goes on to trace rock history from Memphis to Muscle Shoals — though he’ll also quip he’s never actually been to Muscle Shoals. “I’m also aware of all the stuff that came through those places,” he says. “The criss-cross of American highways, you can’t take that away from me, man. I’ve ridden those dirty roads a lot.”  As is their custom, Cordovas held on to “Fallen Angels of Rock ’n’ Roll” for years, road-testing it and letting it come into its own before it was time to really get it into shape for recording. Firstman reflects on how Cordovas’ always sharpening chops — the band’s playing, but also his ability to push his voice further — let the song be what it always wanted to be over the years. While the song gives the album a rallying cry, it’s not without its wistfulness — its title reflecting on friends back in the day who didn’t make it. “The important part is don’t forget what music does for you,” Firstman says. “It can make you sad, it can make you happy, it can remind you of a better time.” 

There’s no better way to kick off The Rose of Aces and Cordovas’ new chapter. The band has long cited influences like the Allman Brothers Band, Grateful Dead, and The Band. And while Cordovas can certainly jam, they’ve also long been acclaimed as tapping into the more songwriting-oriented side of those forebears. From “Fallen Angels of Rock ’n’ Roll” onward, you can hear the band honing their craft across The Rose of Aces. “What Is Wrong?” is a sunburnt twilight sigh of a song — originating with some ideas of Soria’s that the band then toyed with, adding some lyrics (“Are you ready?/ If you’re free enough to do it on your own”) that Firstman worked on with his girlfriend. Throughout his career, Firstman has taken fragments of various American traditions and turned them over into new lights, and you can almost hear Cordovas’ music as a travelogue — easy-going yet careening forward, from the laidback rollick of “Sunshine” to the swamp grooves of “Deep River” to, eventually, nodding to their home south of the border with closer “Somos Iguales.” 

In true rock spirit, joints are lit and roads are rambled down. Salvation is sought, but characters stumble into sordid corners, too. “High Roller,” another highlight of the album, tells the story of the narrator and his compatriot Stanley having a chaotic bender at a casino.

When they’re camped out, friends and artists come and go. The band jams, and writer pals gather to dissect Marcel Proust or Marcus Aurelius. There’s an almost old-school, utopian scene at play — like-minded individuals not just improvising and seeing where it goes, but seeking a purpose through that discourse. There are all kinds of characters in Cordovas’ orbit, including the namesakes of the album — hotel owners Ace and Rose down in Mexico, who Firstman paid tribute to via an imagined Tarot card of an album name. 

If the whole thing sounds like some kind of fantasy, it didn’t come without a lot of missteps and rebirths, sweat and hard work. Now 43, Firstman has already lived more than a few lives. Raised by a weed dealing vet father and an opera singer mother in Charlotte, the young Firstman took a Greyhound to Los Angeles in the early ‘00s and quickly became a buzzy young songwriter. He was signed to Atlantic, and released a solo debut called The War of Women in 2003. While the album led to some burgeoning success — including opening slots for Sheryl Crow and Willie Nelson — Firstman embarked on era of self-sabotage. “I was a fucking drunken nightmare, and the songs weren’t as good the second time around,” he admits. Soon, he was dropped from Atlantic, but landed on his feet with the bandleader gig on Carson Daly’s show, where his band included Kamasi Washington and Thundercat. 

“I wanted to sing songs I wasn’t embarrassed of,” Firstman says of the transition from those years to Cordovas. As matter-of-fact and self-deprecating as he can be about his early LA days, Firstman also holds that time dear as a crucible, all the hard lessons he had to learn to become who he is now. “Everything is victory as long as you can pull it out of the trash and polish it off and identify it as such,” Firstman reflects. “That’s a big part of Cordovas. We wanna be better people — but not just for nothing.” 

That brings us to the parables of Cordovas, the stories on The Rose of Aces arriving 20 years on from Firstman’s initial stint in the music industry. “With the philosophy, I’m trying to get you to change your brain and work in a useful way for society,” Firstman says. “What happens when you let that stuff in and you become it? What does your brain tell you then? Go feel that, and the standard you set and the call you make to your friends and the thing you said you were gonna do that mattered. How did you feel the next morning? What song did you write?”