Where the Wild Things Grow
Growing up, Kiese Laymon thought of himself as a city kid. But he spent his childhood with a foot in two worlds: his mom’s house in the capital city of Jackson, Mississippi and his grandma’s house in a rural country town.
It wasn’t until Kiese left Mississippi that he came to understand that this question of city versus country actually meant a lot more. It carries a lot of baggage: the tensions between north and south, tectonic historical forces, and the contradictions of life in Mississippi.
In this episode, our producer Justine Paradis sits down with writer Kiese Laymon for a conversation on this question of country versus city, what that has to do with the history of Black life in this country, and the story of Kiese’s first children’s picture book, his latest in a lifelong exploration of a complicated love of Mississippi.
Featuring Kiese Laymon.
Writer Kiese Laymon. Credit John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation.
ADDITIONAL MATERIALS
Kiese Laymon’s first children’s book, City Summer, Country Summer.
If you’d like to read more by Kiese, we recommend “Da Art of Storytellin’ (A Prequel)”, his essay about Outkast, his grandmother, and stank. (Oxford American)
Kiese adapted City Summer, Country Summer from this 2020 prose-poem essay. (New York Times)
Flip through an excerpt of City Summer, Country Summer, written by Kiese Laymon and illustrated by Alexis Franklin. Courtesy of Penguin Young Readers.
SUPPORT
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CREDITS
Outside/In host: Nate Hegyi
Reported, produced, and mixed by Justine Paradis
Edited by Taylor Quimby
Executive Producer: Taylor Quimby
Our team also includes Felix Poon and Marina Henke.
NHPR’s Director of Podcasts is Rebecca Lavoie.
Music by Pandaraps, Amber Spill, blacksona, Matt Large, Caro Luna, bomull, Sarah the Illstrumentalist, Lee Rosevere, and Blue Dot Sessions.
Audio Transcript
Note: Episodes of Outside/In are made as pieces of audio, and some context and nuance may be lost on the page. Transcripts are generated using a combination of speech recognition software and human transcribers, and may contain errors.
Nate Hegyi: This is Outside/In, a show where curiosity and the natural world collide. I’m Nate Hegyi.
There’s this saying out there which goes like this: there are two kinds of people in the world… The ones who think there are two kinds of people in the world… and the ones who know better.
MUSIC: Hangover Cure, Blue Dot Sessions
Nate Hegyi: Anyway. Perhaps one of the easiest and most common ways of dividing up the world is this: there are “city people” and “country people.”
Sometimes, these are labels we adopt ourselves… I’m more of a country slash mountain boy, if I’m being honest… and sometimes they’re labels we use to describe others.
This divide is even the basis of an ancient children’s story: Town Mouse, Country Mouse, from Aesop’s fables. Literally thousands of years old.
But some people live with a foot in both worlds.
Kiese Laymon: All right. My name is Kiese Laymon. Um, I'm a writer, born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi.
Nate Hegyi: Jackson isn’t a massive city – but the metropolitan area is home to 20% of the state’s entire population. And to someone growing up in that part of Mississippi, it was big.
Justine Paradis: Did you think of yourself as a city kid growing up?
Nate Hegyi: That’s our producer, Justine Paradis.
Kiese Laymon: I love that question. I did, I did, I did… but everybody from the city had their foot also in the rural parts of Mississippi… when I would go back to visit my grandmother, who lived 45 miles away from home, you know, that was as much home as Jackson was. But when I was in Forest, I would act like people would treat me like I was from, like New York City or something like that, until somebody from New York City comes down there and then you realize there's a big distinction. But yeah, I definitely considered myself a city kid growing up.
Nate Hegyi: Kiese’s mom largely raised him on her own. But she’d often send him to stay with his grandmother, sometimes for months at a time. Out to a Mississippi town literally called “Forest.”
Kiese Laymon: My grandmother’s thing was, like, when she came home from work, you know, she would always be like, ‘go outside… go outside if you're making too much noise in the house… go outside and don't come back smelling like outside.’ And even as a young person, I was like, what?! How am I supposed to do that?
Nate Hegyi: In Forest, Kiese and his friends would play Marco Polo in a stand of pine trees. The kind of dark, full woods you couldn’t really see through.
Kiese Laymon: And this is where the city and the country parts, kind of, you can see the distinction because I was never, like, super at home in those woods, you know what I'm saying? Like, my friends would know where like if they had to go, like, do, use the bathroom, they would know which spot to go. They, you know, they were picking up leaves and wiping their butt and shit like, like, like just comfortably… like, if I saw, like, a dead bird, my heart would break. And my friends would be picking up the bird, trying to dissect it with, like, their thumbs, like it was just a whole different vibe, you know what I'm saying? Like, that's when I was like, I appreciate y'all and whatever made y'all, but I don't have that in me, so I'm just gonna stay back and be the city kid, you know what I mean?
… And it wasn't until I went up north to visit my father for summers, when I realized it didn't matter if you grew up like in downtown Jackson, surrounded by, like, the tallest buildings. Like, people were gonna think you were country. Because Mississippi is perceived as country.
MUSIC: Breef, Pandaraps
Nate Hegyi: You’re listening to Outside/In, a show where curiosity and the natural world collide. Today, our producer Justine Paradis sits down with writer and MacArthur Fellow Kiese Laymon.
Kiese Laymon: I respect all of the books about growing up in cities… but I just want to read more books about like, particularly like Black children, like outside.
Nate Hegyi: They also talk about what it means to identify as a city kid or a country kid… to be a Black boy from the South… and Kiese’s evolving relationship with Mississippi.
Stay tuned.
//
Justine Paradis: When Kiese was growing up, Jackson Mississippi had a reputation.
Kiese Laymon: I grew up in the 80s and 90s where a lot more violent stuff was happening in Jackson.
Justine Paradis: A classic urban stereotype, really: gangs, guns, violence.
Kiese Laymon: And so, like, if you came from this place where people assumed, you know, it was just like, like machine guns everywhere, which it wasn't, like people were just like, oh, you know, like he made it or he made it out, you know? He's from Jackson. Like what? Kie from Jackson?! So, Jackson started to get this lore.
Justine Paradis: For Kiese, life in Jackson didn’t reflect these urban legends, but it wasn’t peaches, either. Kiese wrote a lot about this part of his life in his memoir, Heavy, which is a direct address to his mother, a political science professor at the local university and a woman he describes as brilliant. In the book, he explores their complicated relationship, and his evolving relationship with his own body, sex, freedom, writing, and love. In one part, he describes afternoons after school, growing up with his friends in Jackson — a time in their lives when they were left to their own devices, a lot.
Kiese Laymon: you know, the house that I spent most of my time at growing up in Mississippi. Like I always say, that was the precursor to the internet. Like anything you could have wanted to see in that house, like, you saw. Anything you didn't want to see in that house you saw…
… Luckily, I was like, kind of scared to do a lot of the stuff that my friends end up doing. But, you know, I saw a lot of bad things happen, and I saw a lot of wonderful things happen.
MUSIC: Loops & Hoops, Amber Spill
Justine Paradis: Meanwhile… life at Grandma’s house, in the country, looked pretty different. Languid and loving. Although, like a lot of kids, Kiese did sometimes resent having to go there, away from his friends – but looking back, it sounds kinda dreamy.
Kiese Laymon: my grandmother would get up in the morning at like 4:45. I would get up with her. We slept in the same bed. Um, she would go make breakfast… pancakes and eggs. And it's wild because she would always eat out of, like, the skillet she made the pancakes in… decked out as if she's going to some sort of office job, but she's really going to a, you know, chicken plant. She was a buttonhole slicer… my grandmother's job was to slice them, pull out the guts, slice them, pull out the guts. And she would do that, um, pretty much from like 6 to 6 to like 4:30.
MUSIC: Loops & Hoops, Amber Spill
Justine Paradis: Kiese spent a lot of his time in Forest, Mississippi outside, sometimes with friends in the woods. He’d watch daytime television, like The Price is Right with his grandma’s neighbor. But one of his core memories he comes back to, again and again, is his grandma’s garden.
Kiese Laymon: That was one way my grandmama made beauty, and, I mean literally made the food that we would eat. But like, she by herself, like, tilled that land… it was just so big, and, you know, the corn would be so high, the sunflowers would be so high. And I was short, you know, I was I was a kid. So I could go in there and just, like nobody would see me. But you would also, unlike the forest, like there was a pattern. You know what I mean? Like, you could walk down these lines and you could see, like tomatoes. You could see greens, you could see cucumbers, you could see, um, squash, you could see okra… it was beautiful. So, that was her primary project, I would say, for my childhood.
MUSIC OUT
Justine Paradis: Kiese remembers his grandma’s garden as the biggest in town: two, maybe three full acres. His granny would freeze leftover vegetables or bring them to church to give away.
But now that he’s grown up, Kiese sees the garden not just as a source of food and beauty… but as a symbol, in a way, of this dynamic between city and country.
Because for black folks like his granny, city versus country isn’t just a casual preference. It was a profound historical choice.
MUSIC: Blacksona, Neon
Justine Paradis: In the early 1900s, threatened by emerging Black political and social power in the South, white terror groups like the KKK emerged in Mississippi and elsewhere. They committed widespread violence. Murders and Lynchings. Meanwhile, Jim Crow laws suppressed Black people’s rights – including the right to vote.
In what’s now known as The Great Migration, millions fled this violence. Moving out of the American South to northern, west coast, and midwestern states – especially to cities.
MUSIC OUT
But not Kiese’s granny.
Justine Paradis: You once asked your grandmother why she stayed in Mississippi instead of running to the Midwest like the rest of her family if white folks made her so sick…
Kiese Laymon: Yeah.
Justine Paradis: How did she answer that question?
Kiese Laymon: Yeah, her her decision, you know, and she made this decision as a very young person, she was just like, there's no land up in Chicago… What are we going up there to do?... And, you know, because my grandmother was born in 1929, she couldn't vote until she was, like, in her… early 40s, like, she couldn't send her kids to school with white people until, like, 1969. And she had to work in fields by the time between when she's five, she's working in fields, working in the gardens of white people. By the time she's like 10 or 11 or 12, she's working in the homes of white people… So my grandmother's whole thing was like, yeah, I want to be treated with more respect and more dignity as well. But we actually have land here… I don't want to go up to Chicago or wherever y'all are going and live in these buildings where we don't have any land… And that also is the story of the Great Migration. And actually a lot of, you know, not a lot, but the people who did stay were often women and Black women who stayed and, you know, cultivated and made, um, families, you know, like, I'm born in Mississippi because my grandmama didn't didn't go up north.
MUSIC BEAT: Midnight Marauder, Matt Large
For her, she was she was like even as a young person, like, I put too much into this land to run. In spite of racial terror, i still think there's something promising in this land because we've worked it. And so she used to always just say, you know, um, the land, the land should be shared and the land should be free. And she really believed that until, you know, day she died. She died a few months ago. And that was that was that was one thing that's been consistent throughout her life.
MUSIC SWELL
Justine Paradis: Kiese’s own relationship with Mississippi has been equally complicated.
After graduating from high school, Kiese attended Millsaps College, a liberal arts school in Jackson. He started writing for the college newspaper – essays about politics and institutional racism.
One night, he and his girlfriend encountered a group of frat boys in Blackface, who started yelling racial slurs at them – Kiese went back to his room and got a baseball bat, and they returned and confronted them. After the dust cleared, Kiese and his girlfriend were put on disciplinary probation.
Eventually, Kiese got kicked out of that school. He says their reasoning was he’d taken and then returned a book from the library without ever checking it out.
MUSIC SWELL AND FADE
Justine Paradis: Later, he transferred to Oberlin College on the outskirts of Cleveland, Ohio.
And it was there, in the North, that Kiese started to realize that he wasn’t really a city kid. At least, that is not how people saw him. Outside the South, to a lot of people, Kiese would always be country.
Kiese Laymon: My identity became SO Mississippi. I started writing this like, sort of like zine called Little South Boy. And he was so country. I started liking music up there that I never liked when I lived in Jackson in the South, just because it was Southern… I just started like, step into, like, this country sort of identity that I never really fully had in Mississippi... I think going to Oberlin, like, forced me to reckon with the parts of, like, the deeply, deeply, deeply rural southern traditions that I've kind of been running away from… it was a process, but it opened my art up and that I could start to really, like, explore, you know, fantasy. But but but like, why I wanted to invest in a fantasy. And in doing that, I think you become more in tune with like, honesty and reality, whatever that is.
Justine Paradis: Mm.
Kiese Laymon: And for me, that was like really steeped in what my grandmother was and what my grandmother made.
MUSIC: Para Charkiv, Caro Luna
Justine Paradis: After college, Kiese stayed up north. He became a writer and a professor of English, eventually getting tenure at Vassar College in New York. But even after decades away, the gravity of Mississippi kept pulling on him, and he came back South. And eventually, he would return to the scene of his grandmother’s garden in his work — this time, in writing his first book for children.
Justine: What was different about writing for kids? Like, was it easier or harder in any ways?
Kiese Laymon: Definitely harder. Definitely harder.
Justine Paradis: That’s after the break.
MUSIC SWELL AND OUT
BREAK
Justine Paradis: This is Outside/In, a show where curiosity and the natural world collide. I’m Justine Paradis.
MUSIC: my reverie, bomull
Kiese Laymon is an award-winning writer, and recipient of the MacArthur “genius grant.” A lot of his work is memoir: essays about politics, race, the legacy of civil rights, the United States. Some of his influences include people like James Baldwin and Nikki Giovanni. But maybe more surprisingly… children’s book author Maurice Sendak.
MUSIC FADE
Justine Paradis: Do you know Maurice Sendak?
Kiese Laymon: Yo! Because what he did Where the Wild Things are, right?
Justine Paradis: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Kiese Laymon: That's low-key probably one of my top three favorite books ever.
Justine Paradis: [laughs]
Kiese Laymon: But as a kid, that was my favorite book. I can remember the first time my mama, like, put the book on my bed. I can remember the first time she read it. I can remember the first time, like, I looked at little Max and I'd be so mad at Max. I can remember the first time I saw, like, the yellow in the eyes of the wild things.
Justine Paradis: Yeah.
Kiese Laymon: And I always just felt so much for the wild things. You know? Like, even as a young person, it's gonna sound like I'm lying, but I was just always like, man, I wonder what would happen if the Wild Things could tell their stories, you know?
Justine Paradis: [laughs]
Kiese Laymon: … Even as an older person, like, I go back to that book and not just to feel nostalgia, you know, like just to also like kind of massage my imagination, in a way.
Justine Paradis: No, there are some, like, big ideas in that book, you know?
Kiese Laymon: Huge.
MUSIC: Rainbow Inside a Cloud, Sarah the Illstrumentalist
Justine Paradis: Kiese’s first book for children was published this year. It’s called City Summer, Country Summer. It’s illustrated by Alexis Franklin, and the whole vibe is lush and verdant.
And that’s fitting, because it’s set in the very landscape of Kiese’s childhood: a small town in rural Mississippi, across the street from the woods.
Kiese Laymon: Yeah, the series of events is: there's New York who comes down from New York. He's on the on the porch with his grandmother. There's this kid we call Country and his little brother, um, they're on the porch with their grandmother.
Justine Paradis: The kids head out into the pines, but the cool darkness under those trees is unfamiliar to New York. And he gets a little homesick.
Kiese Laymon: So, he's sort of overwhelmed like that, he's really having to kind of like panic attack, a lot of anxiety. And then they start laughing because they think, you know, laughing is how we connect with each other. And he just starts running.
Justine Paradis: New York runs into the garden in the yard between their grandma’s houses. A garden so big that the Country cousins lose sight of him. It’s kind of a tense moment – until they hear him start playing a game of Marco Polo.
Kiese Laymon: They hear him say Marco and they say Polo. And he says Marco, and they say Polo… They can't find him. And all of a sudden they feel something coming up from behind him and it's him. He tackles them, and then they all start to feel like this rain. It feels like they're like, is it raining? But really, it's both of their grandmothers spraying them with, like, water hoses and telling them to ‘get out of that garden,’ but in a playful way. So they get out of the garden, they go back in the house, they all make this food together.
MUSIC SWELL AND FADE
Justine Paradis: The reason I’d brought up Maurice Sendak earlier during the interview is because of something that Sendak once said. “I don’t write for children. I just write, and then people tell me that’s for children.”
Funnily enough, that’s kind of how “City Summer, Country” Summer came to be, too. It started as a prose-poem essay commissioned by the NYT, written in 2020. Kiese’s words accompanied black and white photographs of the city streets, all during that strange and sweaty pandemic summer, marked by protests and a sense of revolution.
Kiese Laymon: And then… my agent got a call from this incredible editor... who was like, I see a children's book in this. And I was like, ‘really? How?’ She was like, ‘just trust. Let me show you.’ And she did this mock-up… and I just was like, ‘oh, I see it!’
Justine Paradis: What was different about, uh, you know, ultimately then you were revising for children and thinking about children as you worked on the book, I imagine?
Kiese Laymon: Yeah.
Justine Paradis: What was different about writing for kids? Like, was it easier or harder in any ways?
Kiese Laymon: Definitely harder. Definitely harder because I always want to push the genre of what I'm doing. But that genre’s wild. Because, you know, I've read like thousands of children's books in the last, like year and a half, and some of them, I mean, you can do things in children's books with violence that you just can't even do in, like some of those books are crazy violent, like, they're like amazingly violent. And the concepts are like, to me, so high concept, but they appear to be, like, digestible, partially because they’re not using a ton of words.
Justine Paradis: Yeah. And then the power of a children's book, like you were just talking about it with Where the Wild Things Are is like it, it embeds in your mind in such a, I don't know, emotional psychic way.
Kiese Laymon: Yeah. Those eyes, man. Like those eyes on the wild things, you know? Watching those wild things watch Max is still just something I can my body can never forget… I'm not the artist, though, right? But I wanted an artist who could who, who loved, like, art, gardens and like young Black people, young Black boys enough to, like, create, sort of, like, not horrific stuff, but you know, the kind of suspense that is bodily… for me, like when they're in that garden looking for that kid, there is a sort of suspense… because he's he's run away from them because he's he's missing home and he feels embarrassed that they're laughing and they're not laughing [at] him. They're laughing trying to be like, it's okay. But he doesn't know that. So I wanted there to be like a sense of like, wait, what? What kind of book is this? Like, where is this kid? And that I know comes from Where the Wild Things Are.
MUSIC: Lee Rosevere, A Little Sympathy
Justine Paradis: But there is another place where that sense of suspense and bodily fear might be coming from: a true story, similar in its details, in which a young Black boy from a city visits his Mississippi family in the country.
Justine Paradis: So, um, I want to turn to Emmett Till.
Kiese Laymon: Okay.
Justine Paradis: So he's this 14 year old boy from Chicago visiting his family in Mississippi. He's then kidnapped from his family and tortured and killed by a group of white men, on the word of a white woman as well. Um, that was almost 70 years ago. How present was that story for you growing up, and then also with writing this?
Kiese Laymon: … I can't, I can't remember. Just like I can't remember when I learned how to read. I can't remember not knowing that story…
I think that story has been wielded by my family in different ways. You know, early on, that story was used by my mama to try to be like, ‘Be careful out here, you know… Be careful how you interact with white people. Because if you do the wrong thing, like, we might not be able to save you.’
Justine Paradis: The two men who abducted Emmett Till that night, Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam, were found not guilty by an all-white jury.
At his funeral, Emmett Till’s mother, Mamie Till-Bradley, insisted on an open casket, to show the world what they had done to her son. Over 50,000 people attended the services.
These are events that Kiese’s mother imprinted on him when he was young.
Kiese Laymon: At the root of that story is like, there's a, there's a social safety net, there's a kind of safety that we as black parents cannot believe that, like, you know, this nation, um, and the white residents of this nation are going to abide by. Like, they're not going to privilege your safety, so we won't be able to keep you safe. So when I wrote this book, I wanted to pivot on that and talk about the importance of creating this idea of safeness, which is in some way more necessary because of the lack of safety, I think, for all children, definitely, but definitely like for Black children in the South, there's like a lack of safety… But in the absence of that, growing up, what I did feel was a kind of safeness. You know, my grandmother, when she looked at me like I never felt ugly, I never felt like, at risk. I always felt like a kind of safeness when I was with my friends… sometimes it didn't feel so safe, but you know, most of the times it felt like there was a kind of safeness. So I'm trying to create this idea of like a soulful, bodily psychic safeness that necessarily needs to exist when a nation has decided that it is not going to be a place where, like, young people and safety go hand-in-hand. And that, for me, is rooted in what happened to Emmett Till and what his mother courageously did, which is to open his casket and say, I want the world to see what this, like, adult-led lack of safety has done to the face and body of my child.
MUSIC: Midnight Prophet, Sarah the Illstrumentalist
Um. And so, you know, I grew up on both sides of that. Like, I grew up wishing my mama would stop talking about Emmett Till. And I grew up deeply, deeply, deeply understanding that some other adults, sometimes, very often some other white adults, like lack of care and respect for our bodies, could lead to our death.
And you know… A lot of times we would get whippings. Like, that's what's ironic is like when these teachers or when these police would make mistakes, like, I would often get a whipping by my mama because my mama would be like, I'm whipping you because you allowed their mistakes to make you unsafe. And even as a kid, I was like, but that doesn't make sense. And she was like, it doesn't have to make sense. Just stay out of the way. Like, don't let them see you be anything else other than perfect. And, um, I mean, I write a lot about that, but yeah, like, that definitely is something I'm extending and exploring in City Summer, Country Summer.
MUSIC SWELL AND FADE
Justine Paradis: When I turn the pages of City Summer, Country Summer, I can feel all these stories. The Great Migration. Emmett Till. The choices of grandmothers. Big ideas you can find if you’re looking. And yet, it’s also a picture book, exploring the complicated emotions of being a kid: being homesick, feeling uncertain in your friendships, yearning to be loved.
The story is also pulling at these identities of city vs country – or of living between them, like Kiese. Once, he was a city kid. But now, he wants to see more of those country stories. Mississippi stories.
Kiese Laymon: I respect all of the books about growing up in cities, and I respect the cityscape books globally, but I just want to read more books about like, particularly like Black children, like outside, exploring and experimenting with like like the natural world, for better or for worse. Insects, you know, crawdaddie s… mosquitoes, you know, locusts, whatever.
Justine Paradis: What are you, um, exploring here about boyhood, and specifically Black boyhood, in this relationship with nature and each other?
Kiese Laymon: Yeah. I'm exploring, like, the way I think the natural world can sort of do two things at once. It can remind us that we all are sort of the same. Like, you know, people just out here trying to find a way in this natural world best we can. But I'm also just building on that Audre Lorde thing, which is like, it's our differences that actually, like, make us and our differences need to be explored and, and celebrated and not tolerated. And I think exploration of those differences can lead to like a similar feeling of safeness. But I didn't want to like meld all these Black boys into, like, one homogenous blob of Black boyness. Right?
Justine Paradis: Right.
Kiese Laymon: I wanted the reader to feel and see that they're distinct in how they dress like their hairstyles, their facial features, where they're from, you know, their practices, their rituals. Those are distinct, like those things contrast. But the longing for and the need for safeness because of those contrasts is just something that I think can create beauty.
MUSIC: Lee Rosevere, Dusk Cathedral
Justine Paradis: So this moment in the story where New York disappears into grandmama’s garden, where they’re playing Marco Polo… I wonder if you wouldn't mind reading that part…?
Kiese Laymon: Oh yeah, yeah. [flips page]
"In the middle of the garden, we felt a forceful wind getting closer to us. And when we turned around, New York tackled us, and we tumbled on a row of my grandmama's butter beans. On the ground of that garden, covered in vegetables and dirt, coated in so much laughter. I want to say that the Mississippi and New York in our black boy bodies were indistinguishable from each other. That would be a lie. We absolutely contrasted. But the sights, taste, and smells of our contrast felt like safeness. Not safety. Safeness. And safeness sounded like love."
CREDITS
Nate Hegyi: To see a few of the beautiful illustrations in City Summer, Country Summer, visit our website — outsideinradio.org. Or follow us on Instagram - we’re @outsideinradio.
Also, if you’re enjoying Outside/In, I know you’ve probably heard this a million times on a million podcasts, but reviews really help us out — especially on Apple Podcasts. I know when I’m checking out a new show, I always check the reviews first. If you’ve thought about giving us a shoutout — consider this your sign to do it now. And thank you.
This episode of Outside/In was produced and mixed by Justine Paradis and edited by our executive producer, Taylor Quimby. I’m your host, Nate Hegyi. Our team also includes Felix Poon and Marina Henke.
Our director of on-demand audio is Rebecca Lavoie.
Music by Pandaraps, Amber Spill, blacksona, Matt Large, Caro Luna, bomull, Sarah the Ilstrumentalist, Lee Rosevere, and Blue Dot Sessions.
Outside/In is a production of NHPR.