ONCE UPON A SECOND TIME AROUND

a story of bus mats, photographs, and fairy tale records

I am a Marty Stuart disciple.

Marty played my hometown when I was 10. I met him at his meet and greet with a banjo around my neck. He listened patiently to my best version of “Cripple Creek.” I spent the next hour standing side stage with my dad waiting for the show of my dreams to begin.

Five songs into Marty’s set, a biblical thunderstorm forced him and his band off stage. His bus peeled out of the muddy backstage lot to avoid getting stuck. In its wake, floating in a brown puddle, was a rectangle of maroon carpet. Marty Stuart’s bus mat.

My mom fished out the muddy mat, wrapped it in plastic, brought it home, and washed it clean. From the next morning until I left for college, I began each day stepping out of bed and onto that scrap of carpet. Years later, I would stand on that same bus mat to play the “Tempted” guitar solo for Marty’s Country Music Hall of Fame induction.

So yeah, I’m a Marty Stuart disciple.

A couple decades after that first interaction, I would go on to perform, record, and write with Marty enough to form a mentorship and eventual friendship. By 2023, ahead of the release of my project Compadres, I felt comfortable enough to ask Marty if he’d take the photographs for the cover art.

In case you didn’t know, Marty Stuart is a world-class photographer whose collection of portraits is a who’s who of Country music legends. Marty captured the last portrait of Johnny Cash, days before he passed. If you don’t believe me, check out his book Country Music: The Masters.

Marty agreed to do the shoot. He refused payment, requiring only a few tangerines, almonds, and bottles of ginger beer. He took down my home address and met me one morning in my backyard with his storied camera, a few rolls of film, and a giant black velvet backdrop.

The velvet was taped to my open garage door. Clothes and accessories were sorted - a scarf, a Gibson 335, a turqoise ring, a kitchen chair - and click!

The next couple hours were transcendent. Between shots, Marty told stories about Mavis Staples, Lester Flatt, whiskey hazes, and church revival resurrections. We laughed a lot. And without ever saying it out loud, he validated my place in the pantheon of Country music. When he left, inspiration hung in the air.

The photos were developed. The team looked them over. After some initial excitement, nothing else was said. Another photo shoot was booked. I wore a ball cap and t-shirt to “help me look like a guy you’d wanna have a beer with.” Compadres was released. A year later, my time at Warner Music Nashville had come to an end.

I am now putting the final touches on what will be my first independent release (and my first full-length album since 2017’s The Beginning of Things). The music is joyful. Nothing on it is perfect. The songs paint a picture of my life at 39. I sing about whiskey drinking, breaking up, raising babies, cuttin’ grass, sober couples, Willie on the Waffle House Jukebox, and all kinds of things that make me who I am.

This record you’ll soon hear is also soaked in hard-earned wisdom. I’ve lived the stories before, but now I know something about ‘em I didn’t know the first time around.

Marty’s bus mat found me once upon a second time around. The songs on this record found me once upon a second time around. The chance to record music without first getting approval found me a second time around. Marty’s photos of me felt like they might be getting a second time around, too.

Listening back to first mixes, I realized the photos don’t match the music. The photos do, however, match the moment. It’s the perfect way to signal a new chapter.

You’ll see Marty’s photos on my social profiles and on VIP passes at my shows. Please steal a free pass from the merch table (or from me directly), and scan the QR code on it to hear a bit of the new record. I’m really proud of it.

See you on the road,

Charlie