Luke Callen + Long Mama

Long Mama’s music blisters with the heart and grit of someone who has lost hard, loved harder, and licked her burns until they stung then silvered. In a drafty attic just west of the Milwaukee River they grew up on, you’ll find songwriter Kat Wodtke (Wood-key) raking through notebooks in search of a salve: words, stories, and sounds to temper the dumpster fires we never mean to light. Flickering behind each song is Wodtke’s lived insight into our human faults and fissures — the moments in life when we can slip and lose our footing or claw our way out, better people on the other side of the blaze.

Wodtke was raised in Southeastern Wisconsin by two radical, musician-turned-teacher parents. Often left to wander through the stacks of People’s Books as a kid, she discovered a love of reading – devouring everything from Carson McCullers to Ralph Ellison and Sam Shepard to Tu Fu. In the basements and living rooms of Milwaukee’s Riverwest neighborhood, a gangly teenaged Wodtke was captivated by scrappy DIY bands that defied categorization and carved their own paths. Wodtke eventually moved to Minneapolis where she waited tables and immersed herself in the mercurial Twin Cities music scene. They traveled to Alaska for seasonal jobs, living in a small, secluded cabin. All the while, Wodtke observed and wrote, studying the curious characters who always seemed to hang their hats in her unsettled heart, whether they paid rent there or not.

With years of drifting in her rearview mirror, Wodtke made their way back home to Riverwest. After the death of a close friend in 2018, she struggled to make music. It took time – and a heap of tenderness from friends and family – for her to pick up a guitar again. When she finally did, music became a raft – or maybe more like a submarine – through the strange wilderness of heartache and grief, loneliness and love, risk and abandon. With a growing collection of original songs and buoyed confidence, Wodtke coined the name Long Mama (after a prickly, shade-loving cactus) and teamed up with guitarist Andrew Koenig and drummer Nick Lang, a pair whose chemistry adds dusky afterglow to Wodtke’s musical landscapes. Upright bass ace Samual Odin came aboard soon after, along with regular collaborator Eva Nimmer, whose backing vocals blend so elegantly with Wodtke’s that one could mistake them for blood harmonies.

Poor Pretender, Long Mama’s debut album released October 2022, embraces a rich spectrum of light and shadow, heat and cold. The ten-song collection’s palette of country, folk, indie rock, and punk reflects its makers’ coming-of-age in the rustbelt crossroads of north, south, east, and west. Engineered by Erik Koskinen and recorded live over a long, snowy weekend in Cleveland, Minnesota, the record showcases the band’s particular ability to conjure the beautiful in the broken, the silver in the ore. Featured in No Depression’s Now Hear This Round-up, Poor Pretender has been called “a winner all the way” (Country Music People Magazine) and “gently crafted perfection” (Milwaukee Journal Sentinel).

“He’s Good” – Charlie Parr

“You know I don’t ever do this…but let me get that glass of whiskey for ya – you’re good” – Storied First Avenue Bartender

Luke Callen, a laconic singer songwriter whose third release, ‘Also Going Nowhere’ is a mighty fine listen. Take a pinch of John Prine, add some Ian Noe and the merest hint of Ramsey Midwood, then stir in a swell band and you have a fine blend which is just perfect for listening to on a lazy sunny day. All 11 songs on the album allow Callen to stake a claim to be a successor to the above named acts whether he is singing about rural idylls or blood stained history. ‘Clementine‘ is a wonderful portrait of coal mining in North Minnesota and ‘Lake Street Hustle’ is a vivid capture of the perils of drug deals going wrong. Relax with the soothing groove of ‘Fishing Song’ and prepare to be delighted by the boho road trip which is ‘Wolves Of New York’. – Americana UK

“Callen played his own outstanding set. With lived-in lyrics that balance humor and heartache, his natural musical storytelling ability charmed the crowd more and more with each song. In between some songs, Callen leaned into that charm to inject some crucial doses of reality. While introducing a ballad, he set the context for the song. “This song is a story I made up that takes place in northern Minnesota, where there’s a lot of resource exploitation for things like lumber, iron ore, and taconite. Those areas have these big camps where they do all this work, and what tends to happen is that many Indigenous people end up going missing or getting murdered. I’m sure you’ve all heard that story. This song is about Clementine.” As Callen wrapped up “Clementine,” a friend leaned over and said, “This sounds like those early Johnny Cash songs about the struggles of Indigenous people but sung like Bob Dylan if Bob Dylan could actually sing.” And honestly, there’s no better way to describe it than that. Callen’s entire set was poignant, self-aware, and brimming with gratitude. – Joel Swenson – The Current

The reviews are in folkx – Luke Callen is a fine songwriter – singer – and player.

In an age of quick fixes, flashing screens, and pop ‘songs’ that are more formula than art, an album that takes its sweet time is a radical act. “Also Going Nowhere”, Luke Callen’s third full-length effort is just that – a collection of songs that spread out through time and space, dripping with honest Midwest charm and a mischievous glint. It’s music that you can relax into, paired with lyrics you’ll want to chew on and savor, that ask something of their listener. These songs are proof and reminder: you don’t actually have to go anywhere at all to, you know, get somewhere.

That’s not to say the subject matters within this work are by any means easy or expected. Clementine follows a gun-totting mother up near the Taconite mines of Northern Minnesota. Deals go horribly wrong on the street corner in Lake Street Hustle. The cosmic, primordial soup mixes with wildflower seeds in Some Reason. These epic tales swirl alongside summertime swimming holes, interstate drives, fishing trips with Dad, and unlikely marriage proposals. All of it, grounded and cohesive in the hands of a locked-in rhythm section (Chris Grey on drums and Lauren Anderson on bass) playful lead guitar (producer Erik Koskinen) the warm hum of an organ (Frankie Moscow), and of course, Luke Callen’s confident finger-picking and weathered vocal delivery.

This no-frills arrangement style is like a drink of water for those of us who crave something real and honest to listen to. The sonic palette pays homage to a whole plethora of elements endemic to the American music tradition without feeling derivative or landing too hard on any one side of the genre question. Sure, fans of John Prine, The Band, or Randy Newman will undoubtedly hear traces of Callen’s biggest influences, but there’s a modern assessment within the music that is the distinct voice of an artist coming into his own and sharing stages with fellow pickers and balladeers like Charlie Parr and Margo Cilker.

This album is Callen’s strongest recorded work yet – but even so, his work isn’t the type to get puffed up or ahead of itself. “The highway begins where it always ends/on the same goddamned street” he sings, a throwback to the title of the thing, which seems to be said with a wink and wiley understanding of the world in which we live today. Ultimately, Callen never strays from this central theme: our ordinary lives are noteworthy, and that miraculous, strange, beautiful things are happening around us all the time. We just need to take a seat, stay a while, and insist on using our attention for good.