We’re looking forward to introducing you to Marty Falle. Check out our conversation below.
Marty, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Lately, what’s bringing me the most joy is getting back into the heart of what made me fall in love with music in the first place—writing Appalachian stories and turning them into Bluegrass records. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the mountains, talking with people, listening to their histories, and letting those moments shape new songs. There’s something deeply grounding about capturing real Appalachian life—the faith, the humor, the hardship, the resilience—and turning it into music that feels honest.
Working on projects like Bluegrass Christmas Stories and my upcoming Hillbilly Irish record has been a reminder that creating something rooted in place and tradition is one of the most satisfying things I do. Whether it’s sitting with a guitar on my farm, driving the backroads of Eastern Kentucky, or digging into old mountain tales, those moments have brought me a lot of peace and joy outside of work.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Marty Falle, a Bluegrass and Appalachian Roots songwriter who tries to honor the stories and traditions I grew up around. Most of my work focuses on real people and real places in the mountains—coal camps, farm towns, railroad lines, and the communities that shaped so much of Appalachian history.
I’ve been fortunate to work with musicians who help bring these stories to life, but the heart of my music comes from spending time in Eastern Kentucky, listening, learning, and trying to put those memories and experiences into songs. Each album I make usually has a theme behind it—records like Hillbilly Irish, Wanted in Kentucky, Appalachia Rust, and my new Christmas project Bluegrass Christmas Stories all come from a place of wanting to reflect something true about mountain life.
What I hope makes my work worthwhile is the focus on original storytelling—songs that look at where we come from, the struggles and joys of everyday people, and the values that hold small communities together.
Right now, I’m continuing to write and record music rooted in Appalachian and Scots-Irish heritage, always trying to learn more and represent these stories with care. My goal is simply to keep contributing to the tradition in an honest way and to honor the culture that has given me so much.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
I think the part of me that needs to be released is the habit of carrying every responsibility like it’s life-or-death. For years—whether in music, business, or everyday life—I’ve pushed myself to control every detail, fix every problem, and shoulder more than I probably needed to. That mindset helped me work hard and get things done, but it also kept me from slowing down and enjoying the moments that matter.
Lately I’m learning to let go of that pressure. To trust the people around me, trust the process, and not hold on so tightly. Releasing that old instinct is helping me make better music and be more present in my life. It’s a work in progress, but it feels like the right thing to let go of so I can keep growing in a healthier, more grounded way.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Yes—during my cancer battle, there were moments when I felt completely worn down. Treatment pushes you to the edge physically and mentally. There were days when I didn’t feel strong, didn’t feel hopeful, and certainly didn’t feel courageous.
What held me together was my faith and the people God put around me—especially my wife. She walked through every step with me, even the parts that weren’t pretty or easy. On days when I was too tired to believe in myself, she believed for me. Her strength, patience, and presence were a gift I’ll never forget.
I leaned on scripture more than I ever had. Verses like “Be strong and courageous… for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9) became something I kept close. Even when I didn’t feel brave, those words reminded me that God was with me, and that courage sometimes means simply trusting Him to carry you through the next hour, not the whole mountain.
Family, friends, and music gave me reasons to keep looking forward—unfinished songs, stories that weren’t done yet. But it was my faith, and the love and support of my wife, that steadied me when everything else felt uncertain.
That experience humbled me. It taught me that real courage isn’t about never struggling—it’s about trusting God, leaning on the people who love you, and taking one step at a time even when the path is dark. I’m grateful every day that I didn’t give up, and even more grateful for the grace and love that helped me keep going.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
My closest friends might say that faith, family, and staying grounded matter most to me. They know I try to stay accountable—to myself, to my wife and family, and to the responsibilities God has given me. I do my best to use whatever talent I’ve been blessed with in an honest, meaningful way, whether that’s through music, storytelling, or simply how I treat people.
They might also say that being a good husband and a good father is at the center of my life. Those relationships guide me more than anything else, and I’m always trying to keep my priorities straight and make choices that reflect my values.
So if you asked them, my friends might say that what really matters to me is living with purpose, staying rooted in faith, and being someone my family can count on.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you knew you had 10 years left, what would you stop doing immediately?
If I knew I had 10 years left, the first thing I’d stop doing is worrying. I’ve spent too much time in my life carrying things on my shoulders that were never mine to carry in the first place. Worry doesn’t add a day to your life, and it certainly doesn’t bring you any closer to peace.
Scripture reminds us of this over and over. “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) And of course, the words of Jesus in Matthew still ring true: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” (Matthew 6:34)
If I truly lived like I believed those verses—every day—I’d hand things over to God more quickly and stop trying to control every outcome. I’d stay present with my wife and family, focus on what matters, and trust that God is already ahead of me, working things out in ways I can’t always see.
So yes—if I only had 10 years left, I would stop worrying and start giving more of it to God. Not someday. Not eventually. Immediately.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.martyfallemusic.com/
- Instagram: martyfalleofficial
- Other: https://AirPlayDirect.com/HillbillyIrish
