Review: Bosko Baker ‘The Magnolia Sessions’
Here at The Sleeping Shaman nerve center, we collectively have been longtime fans and supporters of Dan Emery, the head man at Anti-Corp Music, and his prolific, ongoing series The Magnolia Sessions.
Gathering underground country, folk, bluegrass, acoustic, and Americana artists of all stripes, and recording them live under the magnolia tree at his compound in Nashville, is simply put, one of the cooler ongoing projects in the whole of underground music.

Here, we have Bosko Baker, whose tale began somewhere unspecified in the Midwestern United States. His musical journey as an acoustic, finger-plucking street performer on the busking circuit has taken him from Nashville to New Orleans, before heading north and posting up in Québec City. His style has been alternately described as ‘street swing’ and ‘bozo blues.’
Beginning with the opening notes of Cigarette Kisses, a title that conjures memories of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s for me, as literally everyone, everywhere, smoked back then. It is a fun, plucky tune set to the now-familiar sounds of crickets and other insects under the now-infamous magnolia tree in the Tennessee outdoors. Complete with quirky lyrics, violin action, and fingerpicking, my mind drifted to an unnamed American street corner at the turn of the last century.
Next up is With Friends Like These, an entertaining tale about being stabbed in the back that most of us can relate to on some level. Set to a rollicking, fingerpicked guitar, harmonized vocals, and a carousing violin, the performance exudes a festive energy that had me bouncing my head side to side. The sound if the insect chatter flows right into the fun, jangly notes of I Got A Feeling (That You Could Be My Friend) as Bosko and his core contributors – Birdie Veilleux on fiddle and Ely Rickard on banjo – lock in while simultaneously playing off each other. The result left me with an image of their respective instruments literally dancing together on this extremely enjoyable track.
a sound and atmosphere from a time long past, making for a super fun listen…
After three songs of lively street swing, we take a turn into more somber territory with the reflective The Riddle Song. The timing of the fiddle flourishes and choice of notes over Baker’s fingerpicking add to the forlorn vibe. Reel It In sees the trio get back to a more upbeat tempo. A flurry of witty, fun lyrics are unleashed with guitar playing that would leave most artists gasping for air. The fiddle and banjo are both exceptional throughout; their timing and performance are impeccable and really serve the song, which became one of this reviewer’s favorites.
The fiddle and banjo jump to the forefront on Nothin’ But Potential, another entertaining track with clever wordplay coupled with nimble plucked flourishes. My Baby, She Knows finds the musicians playing with a lively, bouncy energy, while Ready Or Not has a fun sway alongside some mildly jarring bow-slides.
Hitting the home stretch, Playmates is a bit of a yearning, melancholic affair. If It Ain’t Happened Yet, a ‘breakup song amongst friends,’ as introduced by the frontman, exudes a more downcast aura, exemplified by the slightly despondent notes on the fiddle. The penultimate Story Time is a spoken-word tale, complete with a few rubber chicken squawks, about having a session on whiskey after an open mic night in Austin, then losing his guitar after crashing out on some steps of a parking garage. It’s an entertaining anecdote that sets up Austin, When She Turned, serving as the perfect closer to this unique record.
Resonating like a recording from a hundred years ago, enhanced by the insects, this was an enjoyable album from the moment I hit play. Baker and his cohorts deftly capture a sound and atmosphere from a time long past, making for a super fun listen. Let us go ahead and add another fantastic, distinctive record to The Magnolia Sessions‘ ever-expanding roster of singular artists.
Label: Anti-Corp Music
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Martin Williams


