Ramona Martinez began writing songs when she was 15 years old. Then, she stopped.
Now, 15 years later, she’s back to penning tunes—this time in cavalcades. She’s written more than 20 songs in less than a year. And she’s unapologetic about her mission: “Country music stardom is my goal,” she says.
Martinez, a former NPR radio producer, moved to Charlottesville from the D.C. area six years ago for a UVA podcast production job. Not much more than a year after the move, though, she quit her day job and set about working professionally as an artist. Primarily focusing on linocut, Martinez says in her artist’s statement that her “work seeks to reclaim Christianity for misfits, radicals, anarchists, and outcasts of all types.”
Along the way, Martinez has also written for C-VILLE Weekly, joined the Bridge PAI board, and helped launch the Feminist Union of Charlottesville Creatives, which supports local women and nonbinary and genderqueer artists. More recently, she and FUCC co-director Sri Kodakalla have shifted their focus to Mala Leche, an online magazine they created to showcase the work of the artists the union supports.
But Martinez never left music behind. She’s kept her pipes warm singing in the Trinity Episcopal church choir and plays the tin whistle at a high level; she took up the instrument for Blue Ridge Irish Music School sessions for about two years. Her first stringed instrument was upright bass, and she’s played it off and on for the LUA Project, a Mexican-Appalachian fusion band, since moving to Charlottesville.
In 2021, Martinez decided to write a song. Why? She’s not sure. It was a “yellow brick road thing,” she says. “It is weird—it’s kismet. All of a sudden, I had all of these songs, some of them fully formed. I keep telling myself, ‘God wouldn’t have given me all of them if I wasn’t supposed to do something with them.’”
She decided to play some solo shows. A gig at Champion Brewery last October led to another brick in the road: Several local musicians volunteered to play with her. She formed a band, The Holy Smokes, with Kyle Lawton Kilduff on bass, Brooks Hefner on pedal steel, and Owen Brennan on drums. Blake Baines joins on electric guitar from time to time.
Charmed with a ’60s honky-tonk sound that calls to mind Patsy Cline and George Jones, Ramona & The Holy Smokes have gotten traction with recent shows at Champion, Ting Pavilion, and The Southern Café & Music Hall. The group is planning to record its first EP this fall. “If you think you don’t like country music … Ramona & The Holy Smokes will definitely change your mind,” Martinez says.
Next up, Martinez and Hefner will play The Garage on August 12. The singer-songwriter says the duo shows are distinct from Holy Smokes gigs but have their own charm. Arranged with a guitar, pedal steel, and Martinez’s sweet liquid warble, the pair will likely take on some of Martinez’s sadder (though often irreverent) tunes, like “Honkey Tonk Angels.” “You can expect to laugh and cry,” she says.
In addition to calling on her Catholic Christian roots for songwriting inspiration, Martinez says she focuses on what songwriter Harlan Howard called “three chords and the truth.”
“Melody drives my songs,” she says. Martinez might be in the car, driving along and singing to herself to work out new song ideas. Or she’ll look back on her past and weigh her experiences “with a wry smile and a tear in my eye.”
“I think the plague really forced us to be introspective about who we are and where we are in our lives,” Martinez says of her post-COVID songwriting outburst. “Romantic loss and living below the poverty line are really good fuel for writing songs.”
The Holy Smokes have been instrumental in pushing Martinez’s songwriting forward over the past year. Having a team of accomplished players around has helped develop arrangements and flesh out simple melodies. When she gets stuck on a song, she takes it to her mentor, Maddie Mae of Maddie Mae & The Shadow Cast.
Martinez has at least one other big plan in mind on her yellow brick road to country music stardom. Rather than moving to Nashville like so many songsters, she hopes to help Charlottesville develop its country scene into “a new Bakersfield,” referring to the late ’50s-era home of honky-tonk. Along with her own burgeoning band, she says acts like Charlie and the 45’s, who frequent Honky Tonk Karaoke at Holly’s Diner, and John Shanesy and The Accommodation, which skews toward the outlaw side of the honky-tonk spectrum, are poised to drive the growth.
And while Charlottesville has a few musical miles to go before it’s the new Bakersfield, Martinez figures the current zeitgeist makes the time right. Renaissance, after all, follows the plague, she says.
For Martinez’s own part, renaissance will require her to navigate her love of multiple artforms. She worries about losing focus on her visual art as she falls more deeply into music. But she keeps coming back to that word: stardom. “I’m working on saying it aloud and owning it,” she says. “Because that is absolutely my goal.”