Creekbed Carter Hogan
Moontower Acoustic Shows
The music of Creekbed Carter Hogan sits at the vanguard of a new trans folk aesthetic where the intimate and the epic hold hands, whisper secrets, and trade playing cards with the devil to decide their fates. Raised Catholic in the Willamette Valley and hailing from the sewer creeks of Austin, TX, Bridget Brewer’s voice burns a hole in your pocket as their fingers fly up and down the neck in the picking stylings of Charlie Parr, Blaze Foley, and Adrianne Lenker. They may be better known as the co-frontperson of queergrass band Milktoast Millie & the Scabby Knees, but it’s performing as Creekbed Carter Hogan that s/he displays their full dynamism as a writer and performer, artfully crafting an opportunity to engage in experimentation with memory, transformation, and the humble.
Good St Riddance marks Creekbed Carter’s debut, a homespun album recorded in the literal roadside ditches and creekbeds of Arkansas during the 2020 pandemic year “when the only other musicians I could collaborate with were bluebirds diving for bugs at dusk, millipedes jangling along in the leaf litter, and acorns falling just right on the roof above me while the mountain mist turned to rain,” says Brewer. Recasting the story of Catholic saint Wilgefortis as a queer human/ghost love story in a neo-Southern Gothic setting, Good St Riddance is patient, moving, and pared-down, quietly lifting up both the historical and the personal. “I pace like a dog around memories of you,” sings Brewer, their voice full of heartbreak as a painted bunting trills in the background. The lyrical and compositional complexity of each track makes this debut feel like a collection of diary entries or confessions made to the moon. Suffering, longing, grief, faith, and love move as easily as the sacred springs that add a percussive element to Creekbed Carter’s lush guitar picking. “All names are just proof you’re on somebody’s list,” s/he states, ever the earnest blasphemer, their hand outstretched for yours.