117: Riley Shepard and American Music History

It's May, 2026 and I've had a chat with a fascinating artist, writer, and producer which I'm sharing with you all here.

It’s been wonderful to connect with people who geek out on music and music history, and thanks to Matt Marble, I’ve experienced a new perspective on Riley’s career. Matt came across some of Riley’s spiritual/religious albums and shared a soundtrack with me after connecting on the Riley Shepard Cowboy Facebook page. He’s an artist, author, and media producer in Greensboro, North Carolina. His book, Buddhist Bubblegum (Coolgrove Press, 2021), was hailed as "groundbreaking work" by the New York Times. As the director of the American Museum of Paramusicology (AMP), he manages a unique multimedia archive and publishing platform exploring the role of spiritual imagination and esoteric tradition in American music history. Matt currently offers a monthly multimedia subscription exploring the AMP through essays, interviews, art, and archival media. 

Here's a photo of Matt with Riley Shepard's Hitching Post. He said he has a nice little Riley collection.

Stacya: In this chat, I'll refer to my father as Riley Shepard for clarity. Matt, how did you end up on this path of research?

Matt: It's a long and winding road.

Growing up in Mississippi, I was raised by an extroverted Episcopal bishop who prioritized social justice over Biblical dogma and an introverted social working mother who loved psychology and Jungian dreamwork.That, psychedelics, deep time in the woods, the visionary art of Theora Hamblett, and a local jazz club had a huge impact on me. I was very put off by church culture, which felt mechanical and formulaic, not at all alive and inspired--like music, art, and nature made me feel. But I appreciated the social justice perspective my dad brought, so I always say I walked away from the church instead of running away. Had it been a dogmatic experience, I'd've bolted. And, the culture being more conservative than suited me, I did bolt away from Mississippi after high school and moved around a lot. Pursuing experimental music I wound up in art school (Cal Arts). Interested in acoustics and the science of sound/listening I then pursued a B.A. in Speech & Hearing Science (Portland State University). After working at the Portland Veterans hospital as a researcher in the hearing science department, I looked for opportunities to focus on creative work again. That led me to getting a PhD in music composition from Princeton University. The faculty called me the "black sheep"--I did not fit in, that was clear. My life significantly changed in the process.

But that's where I wound up studying the archives of Arthur Russell (in NYC). Through that experience I fell in love with archives.

It was coming across a little note in Arthur's archives one day that gifted me the view of a broader perspective, one which I still see through. On another day I might have ignored it. The little notebook scrap I came across simply questioned what it meant to be an American, and on that day it compelled me to reflect. I realized I didn't identify with any existing stylistic perspective (experimental or otherwise). What was it about American music that was truly unique? Freedom of the spirit and creative agency. What was it that so inspired me about Arthur's music? It was that spiritual or metaphysical thread, the Mystery that defies all categorization and the creative freedom that realizes it. And so I began looking back through American history, digging up marginalized figures, uncovering the metaphysical biographies of familiar figures, and essentially developing a comparative approach to metaphysics in American music history. That history did not exist, so I had to create it. I first started in this direction by writing essays and producing the podcast, Secret Sound. 

I have collected rare archives of metaphysically-influenced musicians and metaphysical movements, both often misunderstood and underappreciated. This collection feels more valuable than ever as American fascism and white nationalism try to erase the most beautiful, diverse, and unique aspects of our history. All this archival collecting, research, writing, podcasting, etc constitute what I've come to call the Museum of American Paramusicology. 

Essentially, I'm interested in how metaphysics and spiritual imagination--everything from mythology, astrology, and meditation to ceremonial magic, divination, dreams, and trickster comedy--have influenced and continually help revitalize American music, marginalized artists, and culture at large. I'm also a storyteller. I love people's stories and the personal ways that artists have creatively engaged these metaphysical ideas. All gifted and innovative artists do this naturally, regardless of style. Imagination, intuition--metaphysics was the place where humanity devised a (symbolic) language to hone, realize, and communicate these aspects of our lives and help us navigate the mysteries of death, among other unknowns. Art is the altar and crucible. Colonialism and dogmatic institutions demonize the metaphysical precisely because it is personally empowering to the poor, marginalized, and the "different." While culture treats it as novelty, fraud, or horror. But artists are always drawn to it in every era, in every style (style is commercial fabrication!). They get it and they put it back in the culture, again and again. And that's my path of study. And it's my hope that the study itself helps put it back in the culture by connecting this neglected history with artists, both now and in the future. 

Stacya: When did you first come across Riley Shepard, the artist?

Matt: I am always digging and looking for new discoveries related to my research into metaphysical perspectives on American music, and country music has been a focus over the last year or two. I often hone in on key terms and phrases when I search. Though I also dig deep without knowing where I'm going–– I love the unknown and take to the shadows like a cat. Anyway, I started looking into the "cowboy philosopher," a kind of archetype within country music culture that often has some implicit spiritual or metaphysical overtones. And, it didn't take long to come across Riley, a self-proclaimed "cowboy philosopher." This was a few months back now. However, had your blog and the NPR story not been made, he might've  missed my awareness for some time. So, I'm grateful for your advocacy!

Learning more about his story, I was drawn to the paradoxes he carried throughout his life. Paradox speaks so clearly to the human condition and the nature of reality--too clearly for most! It speaks to the fuller spectrum of who we are, we contain multitudes-–– yes, Walt Whitman is in the room. A simple and focused life is true treasure, as well as a narrow comfort that can be easily frustrated. But I also treasure folks who resist the narrow path, break through walls, and live by their own liberated dynamism, though that can be a mighty, messy, and polarizing albatross to bear. Inspired by his doing so, I've been diving deeper into Riley's life and work. 

Stacya: Riley said Gene Autry suggested the Cowboy Philosopher bit, but it always confused me as a kid, because the famous Will Rogers had that title. I’m curious about the Cowboy: Priest / Outlaw / Trickster archetype. How much do you think Riley knew about the history of these personas? 

Matt: The cowboy archetype is a rich one that navigates what I see as a trinity of fundamental personas defining country music culture: the religiously conservative, the loner outlaw, and the backwoods "hillbilly" / comedian or trickster. Rooted in ranch culture, but richly mythified, the cowboy archetype is one that is ruggedly independent, reflective, and typically associated with the masculine--incidentally, I produced an audio doc on a female composer who saw herself as a cosmic cowgirl in Hollywood. There was a "cowboy church" movement that brought the cowboy and its rural morality into a more conservative Christian focus, and they will use that archetype when it serves their rhetoric, for better and for worse--for example, the MAGA "gun churches" are, arguably, a curious expansion of this today. Conversely, and balancing out that conservative tendency, we meet the cowboy archetype in the form of the outlaw, who navigates the world as an outsider, and the trickster, who transgresses conservative boundaries through culturally accepted comedy--the many-faced clown, the rube, the wise fool, the magnetic charmer (there are many kinds). Both the outlaw and trickster versions of the cowboy archetype have an anti-authority or transgressive quality to them that is in opposition to the more conservative or sanitized version we're popularly familiar with. The trickster's transgression hides behind the mask of comedy and alter-egos. The outlaw's transgression is hidden in its very loner nature, by its evasion and non-participation in everyday culture or traditional codes. By transgression, one should not understand merely rule-breaking or deviance, but rather an exploration of the boundaries that permit or delimit personal, creative, and natural freedom. There is also a magical element to the trickster, who deceives and persuades others to get a certain reaction or outcome or to destabilize the status quo through lies/farce, humor, ambiguity, and absurdity. And there is a mystical element to the outlaw, because of their hidden and independent character--"whatever is unknown is magnified," giving them an uncertain kind of power. And, to be clear, I think each of the three personas of this cowboy archetype can be good or bad depending on how they are employed.

I see Riley as an outlaw figure with trickster tendencies. He romanticized the cowboy archetype, likely from a young age. I suspect the demeaning dogmatism of his Baptism upbringing reinforced his affinity for the outlaw persona. When the authorities in your culture start suggesting you're the devil for doing what you love, you're likely to either surrender what you love or embrace that so-called devilish identity on your own terms. Riley did not surrender. This made his later use of religion, perhaps partly nostalgic (?), a kind of masquerade, a trickster use of religion. Then in the 1940s he was exposed to radical subcultures in Chicago which championed the poor, the marginalized, and the freaks--LGBTQ, blacks and immigrants, alternative political and spiritual subcultures. These subcultures also happened to delight in mildly criminal activities that challenged what they perceived to be arbitrary and errant authority. In many senses, they weren't wrong and the heart was often in the right place, but their actions could also be ethically questionable. Those experiences and relationships likely amplified Riley's outlaw/trickster persona. His experiences in Hollywood and taking on different performative personas then no doubt added to this in a more glamorous or mythical way. I sense that he deemed himself outside traditional laws and viewed the world like a game or even a movie. You show up and play a part to get something you want and move on. Tell people what they want to hear, wear personas like masks. Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours (though I might not follow through). If someone gets hurt in the process, it's collateral damage. There's a broken morality at play in this way of operating, or rather it's paradoxical. Because he did have compassion for the oppressed and the misunderstood, for other outsiders and outlaws. His sexology writings clearly express this. While his laborious folk music indexing demonstrates devotion to something larger than himself alone. This is very in keeping with the outlaw-as-hero, a kind of Robin Hood figure--except when Riley stole from the rich and gave it to the poor, he was the poor! DIY your own path, break the laws of tradition when they obstruct you, and look out for other outsiders. There was a strange moral code, inconsistently applied, operating throughout his life. I may be projecting or reading too much into this and I look forward to learning more, but this is what I'm sensing as I try to make sense of his life myself! 

Stacya: Riley’s grandmother was a wealthy Methodist woman, and his parents lived on her large property. I can guess how the Primitive Baptist father, Zedoc, felt about Riley spending so much time at his maternal grandmother's...she had a radio, a record player, albums–– and he loved rocking out over there. Riley had lived a comfortable life before being sent off (by that same grandmother) to that horrid boy’s home in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. You nailed so much of his whole thing, and his relationship to money–– he was on and off broke, and before I was born he’d been homeless, and we were at risk of being homeless–– and yet his relationship to money was confusing because he liked to be seen as the one saving others. And he did help some people, while doing massive harm to other people. Riley ripped off an old man who lived in a trailer park, and he certainly wasn't rich, but he did present himself as a Robin Hood type.

I wish I'd had this conversation with you sooner, Matt. It's illuminating.

Speaking of Riley’s sex books (under the pen name Zachary Quill) I notice that you have one that I don’t own, one having to do with Astrology? Did I read that cover correctly? And do you own these books, or was that a screenshot of the book?

Matt: I don’t actually have that astrology book, though of course my eyes perked up when I came across an image of that online—I haven’t found any copies for sale. I get the sense Riley had a genuine curiosity about the esoteric or metaphysical, or at the very least found himself around it a lot. His lectures and the subcultures he passed through in Chicago entertain that. While some of your childhood neighbors in Hollywood—e.g. the Amazing Criswell—provide other links, even if they were tenuous or frustrating. But I suspect with that book those were just hot topics—sex + astrology—that he employed in the hopes of making money in publishing. Though I wonder if he ever spoke to you of astrology?

Stacya: Riley didn’t embrace things like astrology, but living in California astrology talk was all around us. There was a woman who lived next door to us in Hollywood named Maria Graciette. We were friendly with Maria and her daughter. She dabbled in astrology as part of her persona, and authored a sex book along those lines. Actually, I just found her book on eBay, here it is. I see she is "Dr. Maria Graciette" here. I bet she and Riley got along just fine.

Riley sometimes made fun of spiritual and religious people in the privacy of our home. He thought of them as particularly easy to dupe, and often said he could’ve started his own religion. He had a pretty harsh view of seekers and believers, there was a hostility expressed, which I picked up on as a kid and internalized. 

In public, however, if Riley knew he was around believers, he’d show off his knowledge of the bible, and give the impression he believed. He made fun of people who said they were psychic, like our landlords Criswell and Halo, and astrology was not his thing, but he had fun writing about everything. He loved coming up with these concepts for books, jokes, essays, and potential lectures.

This isn’t a question, but I’m wondering what you think of it based on our conversations. When I was first interviewed for “Hidden Brain” I worried that the team for that podcast would come with assumptions about my father because he'd recorded hillbilly music and country western. One of the first producers I encountered had a whiff of something I may have misinterpreted, and during the interview with Shankar, I got the feeling he came with assumptions as well. There’s something that happens with me emotionally when I get the feeling people think my dad was an uneducated goober type guy, I literally become enraged. Once, when I met a guy married to one of my newfound relatives, he was shocked that my father published books. He was looking at a Zachary Quill book I’d brought along to share, the one about the history of prostitution, and he said something like “Wow, your father was actually smart.” It was the way he said it, the tone. I wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe that was handed down to me somehow, the rage, and I’m not even from the South––I’m from California!

Matt: The term “hillbilly” itself is a classist slur. Unless you’re a country or bluegrass musician, it’s a charged term that should really only be used in the context of its history and with respect for the musicians associated with it. I bring that up, because that’s in the foundation of the genre and in the way that rural culture has historically been perceived by those outside it. Especially among city folk and intellectuals, country music and rural/southern culture in general are often associated with its worst stereotypes—those being uneducated ignorance, racism, homophobia, misogyny, dogmatic Christianity, or even horror (e.g. the film Deliverance). That or they’re viewed like a cringy bad joke. So I can understand why folks within or associated with the genre (or the south) can be defensive about it—especially when it concerns your own father! Though such comments, like the one you mention, might also just reflect the personality of the one who said it. 

Stacya: Deliverance. I saw that film when I was a kid, it terrified me. Now I see that film as you do–– problematic. The film crew went into that community and set up those people in a seriously disturbing way.

Finally, is there anything I didn’t ask that you wish I had?

Matt: Hmm… maybe, what’s my favorite music of Riley’s? 

I’m still getting to know his catalogue, but “Cowboy” (under the pseudonym of Dickson Hall) is my favorite so far. “Take That Tombstone Off My Grave” is a fun paranormal cover that rings my bells. And “Atomic Power” is one of my favorite covers of his. I also like his Western swing style recordings, like “Honey Be My Honey Bee,” “Silver Dew On the Blue Grass Tonight,” and “I Was Never Nearer Heaven In My Life.” Among his gospel recordings, “Put Your Faith In the Lord (And Keep It There)” is a nice original call-and-response number—plus it includes that interesting layer of unspoken irony, as you know, because of his critical stance toward religion. 

Thank you, Matt! I appreciate you, it's been delightful. To explore Matt's work and the AMP further, please visit: MattMarble.net

Here’s the Riley album Matt sent me a few weeks ago: