Coyote Motel’s The River: A Songwriter’s Stories of the South turns a lifetime playing and exploring great American roots music into a psychedelic journey. This journey is along the waters of time and history. The film’s creator, Ted Drozdowski, presents the story of making this award-winning feature.
The backstory
I’ve spent decades traveling to the dusty corners and backroads where great American music has been made. It’s in its most unvarnished form that this music is created, and still sometimes is. While collecting songs, stories, and occasionally chiggers along the way, I’ve met people that, as a kid, I would have never dreamed of meeting.
These meetings happened in places where I never thought I’d be. I’ve devoured every bit of writing, sought out the films, and crammed my ears with all the music. This music, I thought, would lead me further and deeper on that journey. Along the way, I’ve learned valuable things. These include how to listen and learn from mentors, spot the troublemaker in a bar, and avoid standing on a fire ant hill.
All of this has traveled into my work as a songwriter, performer, music journalist, and cultural historian. (Well, maybe not the fire ants … or the chiggers.) It has been, as Bob Weir put it, “a long, strange trip.” I never would have imagined such a trip as a Polish-American kid growing up in a blue-collar town.
All of this has traveled into my work as a songwriter, performer, music journalist, and cultural historian. (Well, maybe not the fire ants … or the chiggers.) It has been, as Bob Weir put it, “a long, strange trip.” I never would have imagined such a trip as a Polish-American kid growing up in a blue-collar town.
When the going gets strange …
A couple of years ago, it got even stranger. That‘s when I decided to make a movie called The River: A Songwriter’s Stories of the South. This was not a rational decision. I knew nothing about making a film. But after recording a slew of albums over the years, I wanted to do something different. Plus, I already had the germ. Here’s how I caught it.
In 2018, the aerialists in Suspended Gravity Circus invited me to collaborate on music for their Kindling Arts Festival show. I enlisted my friend and longtime playing compadre, Coyote Motel bassist Sean Zywick, to join me. During rehearsals, I met Bonnie Aldcroft and Daniel Curran, the analog-light artists of Darling Lucifer Productions. Altogether, the visually, physically, and sonically stunning performance was one of the most satisfying artistic experiences of my life.
Afterwards, the directors of Suspended Gravity offered to collaborate on a video for my cosmic roots band, Coyote Motel. Along with my dear friend and talented fellow musician, Richie Owens, who directed and filmed, and Bonnie, we made a video. It used light art and aerial dance for my song “Still Among the Living.” I was hooked and wanted to work with all of these great Nashville indie artists again.
A songwriter’s story gathers momentum
The Rubik’s Cube of ideas and influences quickly lined up. Inspired by a song called “The River,” a contemplation on time, mortality, and the spiritual and physical worlds, I wrote. After staring into the Little Tallahatchie River’s muddy swirl, under a gauzy full moon, outside of Holly Springs, Mississippi, I felt inspired. The notion of creating a narrative of stories and songs grabbed me by the collar. These stories were about the lives, lore, and locales along the Cumberland, Mississippi, and Tallahatchie rivers.
I wrote a stage production that would draw on Coyote Motel. It includes drummer Kyra Lachelle Curenton, Luella on vocals, guitar, and percussion, and Theremin and glockenspiel player Laurie Hoffma. The production also involved Darling Lucifer, Suspended Gravity, and Richie’s Parlor Films. Hammering it out took months of revisions, swapping songs and stories in and out, writing new songs, and tightening the narrative. When I finished it, I ran it by my would-be collaborators. To my shock and delight, all said yes. Then Covid hit. Full stop.
When it seemed safe to gather again, Coyote Motel resumed rehearsals. It was obvious that our highly original sound had evolved to another level. Therefore, realizing that getting somebody to pile up enough dough for a stage production at the scale I’d imagined had little chance, I figured I’d capture that sound on film instead of onstage. I wanted to create all my ideas about storytelling and Southern culture, and capture the river of life.
The River: A Songwriter’s Stories of the South
Parlor Films and Dolly Sez Woof
Presents a film by
Ted Drozdowski and Richie Owens
Starring Coyote Motel
Featuring Darling Lucifer Productions | Suspended Gravity Circus
Directed & Edited by Richie Owens
Written & Conceived by Ted Drozdowski
Produced by Ted Drozdowski and Lauri Hoffma
Original Score by Coyote Motel
Steps along The River
Bringing a film like The River: A Songwriter’s Story of the South into reality is a tall order. Rewarding, yet mind-boggling. Here are the steps along the way.
Step one: The Script
Reworking the play into a film script and running it by my Coyote pack and the other artists. Everybody said yes, which only affirmed my insanity. Eventually, I would write nine more versions of the script, whittling down and refining words for emotional precision.
Step two: The Budget
Laurie, who is also my wife, and I developed a budget. We knew Richie had the gear, so rentals–except for a soundstage–were not a concern. We read up on indie film budgets, talked to filmmakers, and decided on a figure that we felt was attainable. A successful filmmaker I know from the West Coast laughed at our number: $20,000. But that person also became one of our biggest donors. For her astute fiscal management, input on Richie’s and my edits, and overall killer managerial skills, Laurie became my co-producer.
Step three: The Money
Luckily, my years zipping through the U.S. and Europe with a guitar in my hands created a fan base. I’ve drawn on this fan base for all my musical projects for the past decade. I learned a lot the first time … like: a day you don’t make a direct pitch or post, is a day you don’t raise any money.
Step four: The Recording
Aerialists need music to craft choreography. That was a snap–if you call 30 hours of recording over two days a snap. But Mike Purcell, our engineer at County Q, is a true sonic guru. He put his love into the sessions, too.
Step five: The Images
Over 500 historic still and moving images give the story context. We decided to partially Ken Burns it. This meant learning how to use the National Archives and other free sources, begging from great Nashville photographer friends like Bill Steber and John Partipilo, and licensing. I spent weeks prowling for gems and was able to turn up one photo in particular. It was of a pair of weathered, abandoned boots from the very coal breaker that processed the anthracite my grandfathers dug out of the earth. It’s in the opening credits.
The most fun was the marathon filming run Richie and I took to West Tennessee and on through North Mississippi Hill Country. We traveled across to the Delta and Clarksdale, where we shot in one of my favorite juke joints, Delta Blues Alley Cafe. Afterward, we crashed out after a solid catfish dinner and beer. The next morning, we were up at six to shoot on the steps of a partially boarded-up church and adjacent cemetery, then zip along to Helena, Arkansas, and Memphis. Altogether, we shot for 28 hours of the 36-hour trip. Filming at the Delta Blues Alley ranks in high regard because it burned down in April 2025. Despite a crowdfunding campaign to rebuild, its future is uncertain. For me, that was a reminder of why a lot of my work is about preservation. This includes this movie, aiming at preserving these “lost” places, one way or another.
Step six: The Live Show
The big enchilada was getting 18 musicians, aerialists, light artists, and a film crew on a soundstage in November 2023. Laurie took on the task of getting everyone’s schedules to align. She herded us all into NOZ Entertainment in La Vergne for a total of 10-hour setup. We had 30 more hours of shooting over three days. It was amazing and brutal. I gave my leg a hematoma from bounding around with my guitar on the cement floor as we shot the performance sequences.
Richie was the hero, coming up with great ideas for shooting on the fly. Aerialists Bailey Freeman, Paige Muirhead, Emilia Airheart, Tiffany Barrett, and Yuki Block were astonishing. They flew on silks and lyra, and a big hexagon called a honeycomb. Their passion and skill brought an emotional depth and nuance to the film. This transcended mere words and music, along with Darling Lucifer’s. PS: Laurie kicked ass with the craft services table. She dipped into the budget for a big, badass smorgasbord. This catered to everyone, from the carnivorous Coyotes to carb-hungry aerialists to vegans.
Step seven: The Edit
Richie had an amount of film and other assets to edit. It can only be measured in shit-tons. I stopped counting after 450 hours. It took a year of weekends of him and me sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in his editing suite. He offered skills, I offered opinions, and Laurie reviewed the results. Then, she kicked our butts to the suite again. When we were done, the damned thing had turned out exactly as I imagined. It was beautiful, soulful, loaded with heart, and dazzling musical and visual performances. I am still humbled by it.
Step 8: Distribution
Distribution? Not exactly my domain expertise. But through word of mouth and persistence, we managed to win eight festival awards. The River: A Songwriter’s Stories of the South is now streaming on Night Flight. It debuts on Amazon and other sites on June 10, which, by coincidence, is Howlin’ Wolf’s birthday and mine. Our distributor, MVD, also wanted a DVD, so there’s that, too. Wish us luck! We hope you enjoy the film.
