After losing his mother to an overdose, musician Billy Strings plays to honor her

By Sam Briger

Published September 8, 2025 at 11:31 AM CDT

Billy Strings says music was a fundamental part of his childhood: "My dad played [Doc Watson's] music all around the house growing up. And by the time I could play guitar, you know, 5, 6 years old, I was learning those tunes, too."

Singer-songwriter Billy Strings says his guitar has been his best friend for as long as he can remember. "I slept with my guitar when I was 4 or 5 years old," he says. "I'd put it right under the blankets with me. I used to kiss it good night."

Though he never took formal lessons, Strings learned to play the guitar by hanging around with his dad and listening to him play Doc Watson.

"My dad played his music all around the house growing up. And by the time I could play guitar, you know, 5, 6 years old, I was learning those tunes, too," Strings says. "I might've been able to play some of them before I knew how to tie my shoes or something."

Strings has complicated feelings about his parents. "They're such beautiful people, and they taught me so much about music," he says. But, he adds, they also struggled with addiction throughout his childhood and adulthood. This past June, his mother died as the result of an overdose. Strings had a gig that night, and he decided to play it rather than cancel.

"I think my duty here is to continue doing what I'm doing," he says. "Use all that beautiful energy that I get from her — that crazy wild streak — I got to use that and honor her in that way."

Strings' newest album is a collaboration with bluegrass guitarist Bryan Sutton called Live at the Legion.

Click on the audio link to hear the full Fresh Air interview, including Strings playing in the studio.

Interview highlights

On the musical influence of Doc Watson, Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson

People like [Watson], people like Willie Nelson, people like Dolly Parton, these really great storytellers, when they're singing — you know, if you see Dolly Parton on TV singing and you press mute, it just looks like she's talking to you, because she is. She's telling the story.

One of my vocal coaches that I've been working with, one of the big things that I took from some of those lessons was just give me the information, you know? I get onstage and I sing, and I'm so worried about the pitch. Am I singing good? Is the tone good? Am I singing right? How's my timing, this and that? It's like taking the kids to the park, and you're scared to let them go down the slide because you don't want them to get hurt. It's like, jeez, let them play, you know? And so if you focus on the story and telling the words and it's just like, "I know where the pitch is. I just need to tell the story."

On his late mom going to all of his shows and hanging out with his fans

She was always in the mix, right up front. She'd show up in New Orleans or Seattle or somewhere, and I wouldn't even know she was coming. She freaking hitchhiked there, you know? ... I wanted her to go have fun and be doing whatever she wanted to be doing, but I worried about her running into the wrong people. She's been an addict my whole life and had short stints where she was doing pretty good, you know? And I loved to see her out there hanging with all the fans, but at the same time, I was leery of them. I would go over to visit my parents' house, and there would be, like, the fans there that I see in the front row of my concerts all the time.

She was getting older, and I kind of just had this vision of her in my head that I wanted. Which is stupid. It's not realistic to try to come up with somebody else's life in your brain, but, like, I just wanted her to have a garden. And my dad's 70 years old, she was 64. I was like, "Man, you guys should be settling down, don't you think?" — instead of raring and tearing and going and eating all these shrooms and going to all these concerts. And then she did get wrapped up in the wrong stuff. And that's why she's not here anymore.

On his mom's death by overdose

It's messed with me my whole life, and now it's going to mess with me for the rest of it. I have complex post traumatic stress, and I have anxiety and depression, and I have for years tried to deal with this stuff that happened to me when I was a kid. It wasn't just being neglected and there not being food in the house, and my parents being strung out. I miss them even though they're sitting right in front of me. While they were partying and, you know, stuff like that, I was around the corner being molested before I was 10 years old and all that stuff. And I've had to deal with that, you know?

On songwriting as healing

Sometimes it's hard. It's how I felt when I sang on stage the night my mom died. It was cathartic. It's cathartic. I've had songs that I've written about something totally different that I didn't realize I wrote for myself until months later. I write these words thinking that I'm giving some information to some people that could hear it, [but] really, I'm the one that needs to hear it. And I wrote that for myself so that I could heal. And now I go sing it on stage. And there's also been songs, "Stratosphere Blues" and "I Believe In You" — you know, the other night, I was singing that on stage, and, you know, like I said, I wrote that before my mom had died, and now singing it after is just different. It's like I knew something or something, you know?

On why he kept his parents' addiction a secret until recently

My whole life, I've had to keep a secret in order to try to not make them look bad, you know? Like, even when I was in high school. I spoke to a counselor one time. I mean, I was in 10th grade, but I was couch surfing. I didn't live with them. I moved out when I was like 13 because the house was no longer a home. They were strung out. And it's a wonder that I was even going to school.

And one time, I got pulled into a counselor instead of the principal's office, and they said, "What's going on?" They told me anything I say is between them, and it won't leave the room. And I said, "Yeah, my parents are on meth, and I don't even live there." And my house got raided right after that. That same day, five state cops came up, raided the house. I almost sent my mom to prison because I opened my mouth. And from then on, I never said s*** to anybody about anything.

On singing for his son, who is 10 months old

He's done so much for me, this little guy, his little heart, his little eyes. I sing now from a place of freedom and joy in my belly. It's made me a better musician because I don't care as much about if I sound good or not. Like, what's really important has changed. And it used to be my music. That used to be the most important thing. It used to be my life raft, my everything. If I had a bad gig, I just feel bad. But you know, if my son's OK and my dog's OK, I'm free to go sing, and all of a sudden I'm singing and I'm not caring as much if I sound good, and all the sudden I am singing good, playing good. There's this level of freedom and of joy and I can look out at a crowd and, no matter what, I can picture his little face and his little smile, and I just play and sing to him, my little cosmic listener, no matter where he is.

Lauren Krenzel and Anna Bauman produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Jacob Ganz adapted it for the web.