Traditionally Innovative

Zach Top is an unconcerned modern traditionalist on the rise.

Earlier this year, we debuted Good Country with an examination of Zach Bryan, his music, and this new, modern wave of neo-traditionalists in country – whether Bryan, Colter Wall, Tyler Childers, Billy Strings, or many others, raw, down to earth, trad as fuck country is everywhere these days. Since the dawn of this genre, artists have been deliberately positioning themselves as outlaws, outsiders, outliers, and exceptions to mainstream country “rules.” Entire brands, movements, and musicians have been made or broken by their perceived relationships to authenticity and “real” country. 

Then there are artists like Zach Top, who are heralded as saviors of what many mistakenly perceive as an endangered form of country, but seem to shy away from that kind of designation or veneration – even while they lean deliberately into iconoclastic and stereotypical country themes and tropes. Top, who grew up in Washington state playing bluegrass as a youngster and wanting to “pick like Tony Rice” and “sing like Keith Whitley,” is effortlessly traditional, to the point that his songs often sound like “time capsule” music. But do not mistake Top as someone who only looks back, with nostalgia and revisionism and puritanical adoration for the good ol’ days of country. 

His new album, Cold Beer & Country Music, which was produced by legendary Nashville stalwart Carson Chamberlain and is available via Leo33, is chocked full of symbols, tones, styles, and content almost universally associated with “real” country or “old” country. At the same time, he sings about trucks, beer, love lost and gained, and so many tracks are clearly underpinned by a sly, winking smile. 

Self-awareness and subverting purist expectations are just two of many facets of Top’s album that charm and entrance his listeners. There’s barn burning chicken pickin’, there are slow and tender ballads, plus tear-in-your-beer sad ass songs, and so much more. Top captures his audience – which is remarkably multi-generational – with limitless charm, bluegrass virtuosity, Wrangler jeans, and a cowboy hat, but he keeps them with well written, thoughtful, and relatable songs, a deep and wide sense of humor, and an incredibly fun and engaging live show.

It’s not bro country, or pop country, or radio country, or Music Row country, or pandering traditionalist country, either. It just so happens that Zach Top, when he’s at his best and is sounding exactly like himself, sounds like a country artist plucked directly from the '70s or the '80s or the '90s – or from whatever era you may think was this music’s golden age. Whether flatpicking his acoustic, singing about mullets, shredding a Tele, or crooning like so many country greats before him, Top is unconcerned with what is or isn’t traditional or old school, because these are all languages and vocabularies in which he’s already fluent. We spoke to Top via phone about his new album, his bluegrass upbringing, and so much more.

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The parent company of Good Country is BGS, the Bluegrass Situation, so I had to start by asking about a video I saw of you covering “Freeborn Man.” Of course I wanted to ask you, what does bluegrass mean to you? What do Jimmy Martin and the other folks in the bluegrass canon mean to you? I see and hear so much bluegrass in what you do.

Zach Top: Yeah, man, that's no accident. That's how I came up. I took my first guitar lesson when I was five and country music was what originally got the bug on me. I was hearing a lot of George Strait, Marty Robbins, and stuff like that growing up. Just because that’s what my parents listened to and loved. So I wanted to learn to play guitar and wanted to sing like those guys.

It just so happened that the woman that they found that would teach me that young was big into the bluegrass world up there in Washington, where I grew up. I started playing, then I got a sister who's a year-and-a-half older than me, she started playing fiddle, then my little brother's a year-and-a-half younger, he played mandolin, and then my oldest sister played bass. We had us a little four-piece bluegrass family band that we ran around for… shoot, ten years, I guess. We played our first show when I was seven and then we disbanded I guess when I was seventeen – some of us were going off to college, just getting all spread out and whatnot. 

But that was my whole upbringing, I wanted to play like Tony Rice and sing like Keith Whitley.

I spent my whole childhood doing the bluegrass festival thing; every summer, every weekend there was a different bluegrass festival we'd go to. Then, even after the family band broke up, I played in another group called North Country that was based out of Seattle. We put out a record that's still out there somewhere on Spotify and all that. Then I played with a band called Modern Tradition, we ran around for a little while and we won the SPBGMA band contest in 2017 or '18, I believe. 

That bluegrass album that I have out, that was recorded with those players – we ended up marketing it just under my name, but that was with them. Bluegrass has been my whole life really. It was always with the goal that I wanted to be a country singer and stuff, but I love bluegrass music. That was my whole upbringing and the whole reason I learned to play. 

That’s such a tradition in country, too. People like Ricky Skaggs and Keith Whitley – and even people nowadays, folks like Shawn Camp, Vince Gill, and Darrell Scott – that really solidly have one foot in country and one foot in bluegrass. So, I was really interested not just in knowing where that bluegrass skeletal structure comes from for you, but also how you started pivoting that towards a bigger sound and bigger stages for the country stuff. For me, I see that as such a natural progression, but I think for some people they would see that as doing a 180.

ZT: Yeah, [Vince Gill], he's another great example. I think that, in the country space too, I love that strong bluegrass flavor that comes out in my songs, in my playing and everything. That just serves to make me a little more unique. ‘Cause we really haven't had much of that type of transition [from bluegrass to country] lately. 

Obviously, I agree. All those guys you mentioned, that was a big thing back in the ‘80s and '90s – great singers outta bluegrass graduating, if you wanna call it that, into doing a country thing. While also still being influenced by all that music they grew up on. I just feel like that's a sound we've been missing [in country] for a long time. It's fun to me that people are into what I'm doing and liking that bluegrass flavor mixed in with the traditional country sound. 

The traditionalists, the diehards, the “chair snappers” all seem to really like your music. But at the same time, it seems like you're identifying with a really young crowd, as well. I think it's classic and funny that you're doing this with so many winks and nods to the audience within your music. Your album is full of country tropes, but it doesn't feel trope-ish and it doesn't feel lazy. 

It also feels like you’re anticipating that there are people out there who are going to talk about how you’re “saving country music” – from pop country or from Music Row or from the machine. I can tell you’re anticipating that expectation and then infusing it into your music. But, do you agree with that or disagree? 

ZT: Sure. What you said about anticipating people seeing me as a revival of “real” country music and saving the genre, if you want to call it that. Yeah, I anticipated that for sure, but there was no calculated decision to be the traditional throwback country guy. This is just the best I can say and do, this is just who I am. That's what comes out of me when I write, sing, and play. 

That's the music that comes out, so I couldn't get myself to do any kind of gimmicky thing. I think I get thrown a lot into the, “Oh, it's the new '90s guy” [category] or whatever. That's not what it feels like to me. It's very current, because it's what I think and feel and play and sing. Now. 

I was influenced by the same guys as all them '90s guys were influenced by, so it makes sense that this is where my music goes. But yeah, like I said, that's the best I can put it – this is who I am. I couldn't do something else if I tried.

I think that's part of why it works. Plus, the moments that feel like schtick still feel really honest and really authentic. And you and I both know that schtick is just as important a tradition in country and bluegrass as any of the others.

ZT: [Laughs] Exactly. I think there's a great element in country music of people willing to not take themselves too seriously. And to be a little bit “Hee Haw.” We're still hillbillies and we can joke about that a little bit, while putting out music that is serious and honest and makes people feel something.

@zachtopComin to ya live everywhere you can find it #countrymusic #classiccountry #soundsliketheradio #livemusic

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What was the chicken pickin’ “light bulb moment” for you? Or what was the, “Okay, I'm going to make this part of the show” moment? You said earlier it was a recent addition, but to me, the chicken picking feels so central to so much of what you're doing, not just on the album, but also in your live shows and in all the TikTok content and Reels your fans post constantly online.

ZT: That's an interesting question, I'm trying to remember. When I started playing, I really hadn't played any country shows. It was just all bluegrass stuff at festivals and theaters or wherever it was. When I started putting together a country band and starting to play some country shows, I was playing acoustic for the beginning of it. I think it ended up just being out of necessity. The kind of the configuration that I had starting out was me on Tele and I'd swap for some of the ballad things or something else to play acoustic. But for the most part I was on the Tele and I had a keys player who was also a great fiddle player and then drums, steel, and bass.

I couldn't afford to have another player at the time, so for the most part the Tele thing was a little more important, like you said, more central to the show than having the acoustic, rhythm thing back there. It was just out of necessity that I picked up a Tele and started trying to educate myself and figure out how. I know for the first little while I was just imitating Tele licks and just basically still flat picking. [Laughs] Just diving into that world and becoming a nerd on guys like Danny Gatton and obviously Brent Mason, he's the one that played on my records and stuff. 

Even guys like Jerry Reed and Merle Travis and Roy Nichols. I just dove into that and I love it, man. It's fun. I kick myself a little bit because I almost play an acoustic like a Tele now!

I think it serves to make a fun little blend of styles. Gives me something unique, I guess, with my playing somewhere halfway between a Tele and an acoustic, no matter what guitar's in my hand …

You've still got them guys around that are still monsters. Keith Urban or Brad Paisley or Vince Gill. But for the most part, a lot of the new stuff coming up – and I won't knock it, I think there's room for everything – but it's more the pop thing. It's about running around on the stage with a microphone and a red solo cup or something. I just don't know how to do that. If I ain't got a guitar in my hands, I feel naked and I don't know what to do with my hands. I don't think you'll ever see me running around the stage without a guitar on me. 

I wanted to talk about the new album, Cold Beer & Country Music. One of the things that jumped out at me when I first heard your music, probably about a year ago now, was how much your voice reminds me of Keith Whitley. I was excited to hear you mention Keith is an influence earlier. Seeing that you worked with Carson Chamberlain on this album, there were so many dots that were immediately connected in my mind. This all makes so much sense. Can you talk a little bit about working with Carson?

ZT: Like I'd said, it was all that cowboy music – George Strait, Marty Robbins, stuff like that, that I originally got into. Then I might've been nine or ten-years-old or something, I really started digging in, trying to pay attention to my singing and get better as a singer. Keith Whitley was the one that jumped out and I was like, “That's my guy.” So I spent a lot of time copying Keith licks and emulating what he was doing, for sure. I always find that interesting, one of the highest compliments is when people tell me that I remind them of him.

The Carson thing is such a perfect full circle. In spring of 2018 – I don't know if you remember a fella named Daryle Singletary.  He was one of the greatest country voices we've had in a long time, I think. He died too early, for sure. When he passed away, that same day I got home from work and seen that [news] and did a little acoustic cover of “Spilled Whiskey,” one of his songs, and put it on Facebook. That thing blew up for me. At that point, I put some stuff out like that, just me with a guitar. Before it hadn't got any traction really at all, and somehow this thing started getting shared around and shared on some big pages and stuff. It blew up to a few hundred thousand views in the course of a couple weeks and Carson found it off of a site called Country Rebel that had shared it.

Anyway, during this time, I started getting some calls and emails from Nashville. That, “Hey, if you can come up with twenty thousand dollars and fly into Nashville, we'll cut your record.” I didn't know nothing about how the music business worked at the time, beyond playing and singing, but I knew enough that it was like, “I don't think that's how it works…”

I took a bunch of them calls and emails and stuff and kind of got burned out of it and just said to hell with it and left it alone. Somewhere in that mix, Carson emailed me. He didn't say hardly anything in the email. He was like, “Hey, my name's Carson Chamberlain. I like your singing. I've been in the music business a long time. I'm not much for tootin’ my own horn, but you can probably look me up. If you want to give me a call sometime, I'd be interested in talking about working with you.” 

It was in the middle of that influx of calls and emails and I just kinda archived the thing and left it alone. The gal that I was dating at the time, she called me up like a few weeks later when I was out on a show and she says, “Hey, you remember this Chamberlain fella?” “I don't know, maybe…” And she's like, “All right, I'm sending you a Wikipedia link right now. You're going to want to look at that and we're going to want to email this guy back.” And so I did and ended up seeing all this stuff where he worked with Keith and Alan Jackson and Billy Currington and Easton Corbin.

Even the more recent stuff he worked on was some of the [best], I got excited hearing Easton and Billy, cause I was like, “Oh my God, here's some real country music.” Even though it wasn't Keith Whitley, he had even worked on the stuff that I thought was the best stuff I had heard in the last two years.

Being willing to look forward and not just look back, that's a really good sign in a producer. 

ZT: Exactly. And another big thing for me was that all those guys that he worked with had such a unique sound. It wasn't Carson's sound, he helped cultivate [their own sounds] and he did for certain help me cultivate my sound. It wasn't him steering me into what he thought would work, or his idea of what it ought to be.

That was spring of 2018. We ended up meeting up during that summer. That fall, I started flying into [Nashville]. I was living in Colorado at the time. I'd come in for a week, every other month or something like that. He'd set up co-writes for us, he introduced me to business people. He really took me under his wing and showed me the ropes on the whole music business, let alone co-writing songs. 'Cause growing up, writing wasn't a huge thing for me. I piddled with it a little every now and then when I felt something, but it wasn't a regular exercise or anything like that. I was a very novice writer at the time. 

He posed it to me as a question when I started coming to town. He says, “Man, do you want to be writing your own stuff? Or or you want to just look for outside songs or what?” I was just like, “Hell, I don't know whether I'm any good at it or not, but I'd like to try.”

He set up both of us writing with a bunch of phenomenal writers and these guys in Nashville, Mark Nesler, Tim Nichols, Paul Overstreet. I got a hell of a crash course in writing songs, for sure. I sat in there and spun up whatever those guys were putting out. 

Outside of that, [Carson] was dang near an extra father figure for me. He would let me stay at his house for the weekend. Treated me like an extra kid of his, while also being the best mentor a guy could ask for on the music business side of things. Yeah, it's fun. We got a really cool relationship. I love working with him and I'll keep working with him until he decides maybe he don't want to do it anymore. [Laughs]

You've been doing this your whole entire life, so I wonder how it feels to you now that you’re reaching this point where there's so much career momentum? And it's not just momentum because people see your potential to climb the ladder, but clearly this is an audience-first kind of phenomenon. The music is resonating and that's what's building the energy.

I just wonder how it feels to you on the inside of that? And how does it feel to you to have this album out and to really be putting the miles underneath its tires?

ZT: It's surreal to me. I've wanted to do this ever since I started playing when I was five. It felt like a big old pipe dream for most of my life. Getting hooked up with Carson, felt like, “Dang, maybe I got a foot in the door here, maybe this could work.” Then I just kept my head down for the first few years being around Nashville. There was the writing, I did a little meeting tour labels, and all that kind of thing. You know, where they liked the music and didn't know what to do with it, because it didn't sound like the rest of what was going on. Then, finally getting a label partner that you believe in, Leo33, with Katie Dean running that thing and the whole staff over there is great. Getting somebody that will leave me alone creatively, let me do my thing, and put their energy and muscle and money into you selling it to people. 

I think like you said, it's easy to get caught up in the whirlwind and I'm constantly moving and hardly have a second to sit still and really enjoy it. But I try to, I've been trying to intentionally do that. It's easy to constantly be focused on the next thing, the bigger thing, what's coming down the pike than trying to sit and enjoy. Every time there's a little moment of “Hey, remember when this seemed like a pipe dream and now it's happening?” Every time we get to walk out on stage to a full room and they sing the songs back to me, I know that I’ve made it.

It's crazy. It’s special, just talking about it. I love everybody that's taking the time to listen to this thing and feels like they got something out of it that they enjoyed enough to learn a song. And to come to a show and pay their hard-earned money to come see me goof around with a guitar on stage. It's wild to me and I can't thank them enough. I'm just gonna keep doing the same thing as long as I can. As long as people keep enjoying it.

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All photos courtesy of the artist.