Lots of rumors have been swirling around Jimmy Buffett's new studio effort with the working title of Conchy Tonk. Among those are that Jimmy is cutting Will Kimbrough's "Champion of the World" with the possibility that Will sitting in on the session. While nothing has been confirmed, a recent Buffett interview indeed indicates that Will will appear on the CD for the cut.

Keep your fingers crossed...

The Bastards Sons of Johnny Cash were in town a few nights ago and it was a fantastic show. Their new guitar player, Steve whose last name I forget, is absolutely killer. At various points the rest of the band all stood together and simply watched...he is one of the best pure country guitarists I've heard. In fact, other than Will Kimbrough, there aren't many guitarists that would best this young man.

The setlist was revved-up and fun highlighted by their tributes to Johnny Cash and Bastards classic "1970 Monte Carlo." The crowd that showed up was certainly not a country group when the evening started. At the end of the night they were clearly fans--me included.

Whew...now that's a title. Regardless, I'm heading out for this fine festival on November 8th to catch Todd Snider and a few other fine acts. Since the festival appears to lean more toward folk and bluegrass I'm counting on seeing both w00ks and mullets. Perhaps a couple that's half w00k and half mullet.

Hairstyles aside, the festival appears to have a nice lineup that includes the aforementioned Mr. Snider, Fred Eaglesmith, Slaid Cleaves, Celtic Soul, and Sam Pacetti among others. If you've not seen Sam Pacetti by the way he's a fantastic guitarist. The show runs November 7, 8, and 9 all day in Dade City, FL. Camping is allowed as well!

Riverhawk Rhythm Festival

No, they aren't really bastard sons of the late musical icon. Yes, he approved of the band's name. No, they don't sound much like Johnny Cash. Yes, they sound good and do alternative country proud. And yes, I'll be at their show tonight at Cafe Eleven on beautiful St. Augustine Beach.

The Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash are like a strong cup of rockabilly doused on top of a big plate of outlaw country. For a modern comparison I liken their spirit to that of Chris Knight but the most appropriate line to draw may be straight to the Highwaymen themselves. With pair of albums in their holsters these guys sound like they could shoot the lights of any joint they play.

If you're in North Florida and want to hear the real thing, head to Cafe Eleven tonight for a show that's bound to please. See you there!

After picking up Rodney Crowell's latest effort I had to revisit the album that introduced him to mainstream country listeners and relive a bit of that time. I couldn't find my old cassette copy from 1988 but I managed to find a reissue in a local music store. Reading the track list from the back made me nearly destroy the jewel case as I ripped up the cellophane for the goodies inside.

Before I tell you about the album, try to recall 1988 and the country scene. It was sort of like standing on the edge of a very slippery slope at the bottom of which was a million dollars and a nearly-starved tiger. The rock sound was just starting to creap into Nashville and the new sound was tempting. No one really wanted to sound like bad pop music but the influences of rockabilly and other alternatives to mainstream country were being felt. Hank Williams, Jr. was incredibly popular and represented in himself the desire to be traditional and rock it up a bit as well. Still quite important were the strict country artists such as Randy Travis, the Judds, and Chet Atkins. Just around the corner beating down record executives' doors was Garth Brooks, Brooks and Dunn, and other rock-influenced acts. It was a very dangerous moment in the history of country music as the next 12 years would be dominated by drum-droned soft-rock music that so many have come to hate.

During the tumultuous year of 1988, Rodney Crowell released his biggest selling album Diamonds and Dirt which was very progressive without the blatantcy of later country rock albums. The album was filled with hits including a duet with then-wife Roseanne Cash that spawned a chart-topping video. It was a long road to 1988 for Crowell--he had been a popular songwriter among Nashville elite for ten years as well as an in-demand guitarist with Emmylou Harris. Those years lead to a country masterpiece that this album should be recognized for being.

While Crowell honed his songwriting skills and enriched his lyrical ability, country music took his lead and introduced more of the rockabilly sound. Sadly, the rest of the industry didn't possess the same restraint that Crowell had shown--several years later full blown rock sets would be passed as country music. Crowell stayed his course and helped form what would become known as Americana, insurgent, alt-country, or no depression music.

My advice is pick up Diamonds and Dirt if you don't already have it. Then buy every other Crowell album right up to Fate's Right Hand. There's something to enjoy on all of them and perhaps you can catch a glimpse of what modern country music could have sounded like.

The 2003 Americana Music Awards recognized legends of American music a week after Americana's patriarch passed away. I've thought quite a bit about the recipients this year and I can't think of a more influential or inspirational group of American artists being honored in the same show.

Johnny Cash won both song and album of the year for American IV: The Man Comes Around and the hit "Hurt" written by Trent Reznor. Capping off the performance, Cash won Artist of the Year as well. Kris Kristofferson received the Spirit of Americana Free Speech Award. John Prine was honored for lifetime achievment in songwriting. Sam Phillips of the monumentally important Sun Records was awarded the lifetime achievement award for a record executive. Finally, Gram Parsons received the President's Award for his ample contributions to Americana music.

Amazingly there is a distinct chain that starts with Sam Phillips signing Johnny Cash who discovered Kris Kristofferson and recorded some of Kristofferson's best songs. Kristofferson in turn found John Prine and Steve Goodman and gave them a start in Nashville. I haven't figured out how to tie in Gram Parsons yet except that he was damn good too. Another little tidbit is that two of OhBoy Records artists, Kristofferson and Prine, were recognized--a very nice bit for work for a small label. Anyway, this year's winners were all quite deserving.

Another point is that Americana Music Association members, myself included, have made it a point to honor its roots, standard-bearers, and legends. The vote was long before Cash died and something he earned by releasing a startling album of unmatched depth. Kristofferson, Prine, Phillips, and Parsons are names that are near the top of every Americana artist's list of influences. The men and women that made the creation of the AMA possible are and will continue to get their due. I expect more of the artists mainstream country has overlooked to find success with the AMA--Emmylou, Rodney Crowell (hint, hint). Our roots are important and honoring them is equally critical.

Great awards honoring great artists of both today and those who have spent their lives building this fantastic artform...

Generally, real trains are rather unwelcome in my life these days. Getting stuck at a railroad crossing means I'm late for the office. The squeeling wheels at night keep me awake at least twice a week. Nearly every year one of the trains running on Florida's tracks derails causing death and mayhem. So trains aren't exactly the items of lore that I prefer to recall.

Instead when I think of trains I think of train songs like those by Johnny Cash, Steve Goodman, Roger Miller, and Boxcar Willie with all his mail order commercials in the 1980s. It's a more romantic if rustic fantasy view of a train's place in my life. Lovable hobos, mythical heroes driving a hammer, and the train as a chariot of change are more inline with my love of trains. What's not to love about a steam engine pulling boxcars followed by the now-extinct caboose? If the caboose still existed getting railroaded wouldn't be so bad. Then there's the whole robbing a train scenario that absolutely enthralls my imagination. I could listen to songs about robbing a train forever. Train songs, unlike their modern day counterparts, really are a welcome thing in my life.

So today grab a CD, download (but don't steal), or break out an old album and try to enjoy a nice Sunday with a train song before you have to wait behind a line of angry drivers at the next railroad stop.

• Some common train songs
• A good album of train songs
• A guy who really loved train songs

Jay Farrar's Terroir Blues has been likened to his early work with the seminal bands Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt. Fans longing for a "truer sound" have picked the album up in droves--myself included. What is on the album is indeed a more classic Farrar sound, but unfortunately it is a rather poor album.

I don't pan albums often and for one of them to be a Farrar album hurts. Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo have been tremendous influences for me. Toleration of Jay's solo work has been tough so the news that a return to roots really excited me. After listening to the album a second time, I really struggled to decide if I would write or not.

What I like about the album is the composition. Farrar is and always will be capable of writing very good country music. His use of interesting instruments and equipment combined with a knack for arranging unique but authentic music shines on Terroir Blues.

The album suffers from two very subjective ills--you may be able to overlook them but I could not. First, Jay's songwriting has become so obscure that it can really be hard to identify with the music. His lyrical references have always been dense and rich--a trait I generally value. This album however goes over the edge in that there is very little that really stuck with me. Honestly made me wish he could get along with Jeff Tweedy still because Jay really needs an alter ego willing to make something more simple to match the arrangements. The second poison is the fact that the album is poorly paced. Aside from the "Space Junk" interludes which really don't fit well, the songs are all of similar tempo, warmth, and vibe. You could play all the tracks without pause and notice little change. There are no solid rockers--just sort of melancholy loops throughout the album. It bored me as a result and have prevented me from listening to the whole album again. Perhaps you can enjoy the album despite these things because they are certainly personal preferences.

My recommendation is to skip this album unless you really cannot resist Mr. Farrar's newer music and instead spend your money on the Uncle Tupelo reissues. I believe you'll find songs and music you're more likely to enjoy in Jay's archives than on his newest album.

Fellow member of the Shithouse Wire, Chip Manley passed along a nice review of Todd Snider and Tommy Womack's recent show in Covington, KY:

The beautiful Madison Theater in not-so-beautiful downtown Covington was the site of Todd Snider's Friday night foray into the Bluegrass State. A converted movie house from decades past, the venue has been restored into a modern showcase, replete with tiered table seating, a large stage, high ceilings, and 1950s-retro colors and decor. Many of the Listers in attendance remarked on how nice the Theater was, and how it would be a great place to see a show. For those who recently weighed in on the smoking discussion, you'd be pleased to know that smoke was not really a problem, with the 50+ foot high ceilings and a ventilation system making it almost unnoticeable.

Tommy kicked things off a few moments before 9pm. The List members gave him a rousing welcome, although most of the crowd seemed to reserve their judgment for later. Tommy started with a song that should be familiar to casual Todd fans, perhaps as a move to win over the crowd quickly. "Bowling Green" was blistering, and the mention of a Kentucky city seemed to warm the crowd up some more. "A Boy Named Sue" really won the crowd over -- considering the sad news that started our morning Friday, we knew that both Tommy and Todd would likely do Cash tributes -- and this one didn't disappoint. Tommy finished with the lines "If I ever have another son, I'll name him... John R. Cash Warren Zevon hell, John Ritter 'cause he was the son of Tex Ritter and did one of the best guest appearances on 'The Waltons' which came on at 7pm Central Time and which I never missed while I was growing up... (ranted for a while).. Womack!" A standing ovation started even before he was done. Tommy also informed us tha he now had a full-time, 8 to 5 job for the first time in 18 years, and had a supervisor that he would "have to learn to get along with". In a bittersweet moment, Tommy wistfully praised Todd as being able to play music somewhere every night, like he always wanted to, but was glad that he could come along for the ride for a couple of shows. "A Little Bit Of Sex" contained Tommy's rant on a middle-aged KISS fan's illusions being shattered when she finally made it to Gene Simmons' hotel room. "For The Battered" was a surprise -- I don't think I'd ever heard it performed outside of one of the Russ Riddle's house parties. The High School reunion rant was fabulous -- "I just missed my third straight high school reunion... and they keep on getting better and better" -- and so was the closing song, "Skinny & Small". Tommy left the stage to some much-deserved love from the crowd. Judging from the lines at the merchandise table afterward, I'd say Tommy made some new fans Friday night.

Todd took the stage a few minutes after 10pm. The Listers immediately made him welcome with shouts of "Play a fuckin' train song!" It was a touching moment as Todd stepped to the mic and sang, "I hear that train a-comin'...". In that instant, the crowd was his. "Folsom Prison Blues" earned a great standing ovation. It wouldn't be the last. With only a handful of List members scattered amongst the crowd, the usual singalongs for "Hey Hey" and "Beer Run" weren't as loud and boisterous, but that was okay. The crowd was one of the best I've ever been a part of for one of Todd's shows -- attentive and earnest in their appreciation.

A much more polished version of "The Ballad Of The Kingsmen" than the one we'd heard for the first time in Lexington in May followed. Todd's talking rant at the end of the song won many cheers, as did his impression of Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" to close. It was the first time I'd heard Todd sing the closing lines from "Helpless" at the end of "Alot More". Todd welcomed the crowd to shout out requests, then when a barrage of voices came at him, mused "Guess I asked for that." He also informed the crowd that he'd been fighting a cold lately, and said he might have to leave the stage at some time. During "Better Than Ever Blues Part 2", Todd walked over to Lynda's side of the stage to do the guitar solo; to my recollection, it was the only time he moved to that side of the stage during the night. "Somebody's Coming" was a nice surprise and a rocking version of "Easy Money" finished the first set. We didn't know if this was a planned break, or if Todd just needed a few minutes to rest and clear his sinuses before moving on.

After about 25 to 30 minutes, Todd retook the stage and began his second set with the oft-requested seldom-performed "Plastic Girl". The song was obviously new to many in the crowd, and their reaction to the 'punchline' was fabulous. "Spoke As A Child" was played by request, as was "Class Of '85". Someone shouted the question, "Aren't you going to tell us any stories?" Todd grinned, said he thought he'd been doing them, but then realized he really hadn't. The crowd then urged him to tell stories. As it quieted down, fellow lister and friend Angela Middleton shouted, "Tell us a story, Uncle Todd!" That really seemed to tickle Todd, as he grinned broadly, then said, "Uncle Todd... that's my sister's worst nightmare! We took my nephew on the road with us for a few shows a couple of years ago, and when we got back, my sister said 'Never again!'." Todd obliged Angie and the crowd with a long version of the story behind "45 Miles". We'd heard the 'driving between Nashville and Memphis' snow storm story before, but Todd threw in another story of when he and Will Kimbrough were in a wreck in icy weather somewhere near Lake Tahoe several years ago. "Some advice -- when they ask you at the rental agency, if you want insurance, say yes. That way, you can just toss the keys to the police officer, and say 'Thanks' and walk away."

Todd next moved on to the moment that I had been waiting for with somber anticipation. He started to talk about Uncle Skip Litz. He briefly told the stories of Skip's low-speed motorcycle chase with Nashville police, how he met Skip after he'd been heckled by him walking through his new neighborhood, how Skip always told every woman how beautfiul they were, and always shouted for every band to "Play a fuckin' train song!" Todd said, "This is the song I've written about Skip. I don't even know if it's finished yet..." He then played one of the most touching, heartfelt songs I'd ever heard. Like a previous reviewer, I won't even attempt to describe this song or ruin it's words and effect for you... just remember the next time you see Todd, request him to "Play A Fuckin' Train Song".

Shaver's "Good News Blues" immediately followed Skip's song, much to the delight of the crowd. Todd then called for Tommy to join him onstage. While he was waiting, Todd belted out "Vinyl Records", pausing on the last chorus to emphasize "John R. Cash", instead of the usual Cash family line. Considering the day, this drew lots of cheers. So did Tommy when he took the stage. They quickly consulted away from the mic on what to play, then Tommy said, "I've got one", and started playing, with Todd obviously confused, trying to match
Tommy's chords. When Tommy sang "Come and knock on our door...", instantly Todd realized what he was doing, and just sat back grinning, letting Tommy handle the vocals while he kept the rhythm. This also drew a warm response. "Trouble" and "Doublewide Blues" showcased Tommy's guitar stylings. Todd ended DWB with a few lines of "I Walk The Line". Together, they left the stage to much thunderous applause. The final two songs of the evening were also a treat --"Long Year" was nice since Angie had been yelling for it most of the night, and a rollicking version of "Breeze", that even had them dancing in the aisles.

It was a little after midnight when the festivities wrapped. Tommy came out after a while to talk with his friends and fans, but Todd didn't make an appearance. Considering that he was feeling under the weather, everyone understood and was just grateful to see such a wonderful show.

Thanks Chip!

When the word "legend" is used in the context of music several names come to mind. Until early this morning the only name on that list in my mind still living was Johnny Cash. His recent success had given us hope that the vibrancy would carry him through for years to come, but that was not in the cards. Johnny Cash died early this morning in Nashville at the age of 71.

Johnny's influence in my life has been a constant in a world of change. I first heard Johnny Cash as a child, my parents intent that country music was the only music. Our home was filled with his music as I grew up. On a family vacation we ventured to his museum and stood in front of Johnny's patchwork Cadillac meant to be the one from "One Piece At A Time." Eight-tracks of Cash singing "Folsom Prison Blues" and "A Boy Named Sue" were staples of daily life. As I matured, Cash wasn't on the radio much anymore and the rough sound of rock invaded country radio. Despite the mainstream snub, Cash lead me to Kris Kristofferson, Billy Joe Shaver, and Shel Silverstein--influences that have shaped who I am. Johnny was no longer the focus of American music but his presence in my own life only grew. Things slowly changed because not only had country musicians been enamored by Cash but many musicians of every genre loved the man. Soon alternative and rock acts across the country were playing new version of Cash classics. In the last several years, Cash himself had resurged with what I feel is the strongest music of his career--The American Recordings. Until today, Johnny Cash was a living, breathing piece of my personal history.

Last year Johnny Cash perhaps made the most important contribution to my life. Johnny and June Cash played at the Americana Music Awards unannounced. In many ways all of us within this genre felt so honored to have two of our heroes walking on our humble little stage, but Johnny was just as grateful to be recognized by his peers for his lifetime of work. It was a moment that took our genre and pasted it on the front page of major newspapers--a moment of validation. Cash nor those who were honoring him never intended for the event to be the media melee that it had become. It was simply a humble bit of appreciation from both parties but it turned into the moment that the world recognized the music I so firmly love.

This year, I submitted my votes for the Americana Music Awards and I'm proud to say that Johnny Cash had won my support not on the merit of being a legend but by proving it with his latest album American IV. The music created on the album proved that the man was clearly more capable than most of his peers. It is among the finest work of his career and deserves to be recognized.

The AMA show will go on even if there is no one to accept his awards. Yet in a way, we're all accepting his award because without him our music wouldn't play, our voices would be unheard, our sound undefined. We are his heirs and legacy--several generations of musicians shaped by over 1500 of his recordings on 500 albums. We were shaped by his determined will to see that no human be left behind, no voice oppressed. We can only hope to carry on with pride his life work and legacy.

Recently my mailbox has delivered nothing but woeful albums which I was too despondent to even write about. So when Rodney Crowell's Fate's Right Hand arrived I was quite hopeful that my losing streak was over. After all, Crowell is one of the most talented Texas songwriters to live despite being usually overlooked when that list is compiled. Further, last week's TV appearance boistered my excitement. I was indeed quite thankful to see my package from Miles of Music.

Crowell is a very cerebral songwriter--he weaves complex and thought-provoking stories of life while using simple and strong language. Clearly a philosopher of sorts, nothing has been put to paper that hasn't been contemplated by a man conscious of the world in which he lives. Further, the pace and composition of the album show the skills and ability of a man who understands his listeners. The depth of and emotions elicited by the stories told in the songs are remarkable as a result.

It also should be noted that this album features the finest coordination of some of the best musicians around. Kim Richey, Bela Fleck, Will Kimbrough, Jerry Douglas, and John Jorgenson all make many contributions to an already rich album. When Kim sings with Rodney it's a match made in heaven--then again, Kim Richey is a perfect match for just about any male vocalist. All the musicians on the album really do a fine job and whoever scored and mixed deserves a huge pat on the back.

The tracks themselves are well-paced and vary in theme and emotion. Early in the album the title track and it's immediate successor, "Earthbound," stand out. "Fate's Right Hand" is a synopated country-rock song that articulates pop-culture today in a wry commentary of rhyme. "Earthbound" is a more traditional number where Crowell looks at life as he grows older. The middle tracks of the album are highlighted by a little Texas-blues on "Preachin' To The Choir" which is a little more light-hearted and leans toward Steve Earle at times. Finally, the album's last few tracks feature my favorite songs on the disc. "It's A Different World Now" is truly emblematic of Crowell in that despite being a protest song about several of the world's ills it's done with patience, grace, and without violent anger. "Come On Funny Feeling" changes again to a more upbeat view and is really groovy little pop number. Throughout the tracks, you will notice that these aren't eleven songs thrown on the CD in just any order--they are well-placed and planned not to mention well-written.

Fate's Right Hand is a really good album that truly should have several tracks on mainstream country radio. While today's country sounds a bit like bad rock, hearing an album like this makes me wish DJs still picked the tunes because Rodney Crowell has a couple of hits here.

I'm not one to point out every little strange thing about people--unless it's done publicly on my website. If you're going to do it, do it on the record right? Since there aren't too many things that really are worth ridiculing it's not often I do this. Today however there is one thing I want to point out.

Mullets. Oh have we ever heard enough about mullets. Once a chic haircut for hillbillies and Wall Street wizards alike has become the hairstyle-of-ridicule in today's world. Business in the front, party in the back is no longer welcome in most places.

Most places I said--fans of country music seem to have continued their embrace of the winged wonder even today. Every concert I attend that even has the slightest country element is also attended by at least one mullet. Some are reminiscent of Billy Ray, others Jamir Jagr. All are glorious in their celebration of the infamous haircut.

Here's my question: why is it that country music attracts so many mullets? Don't tell me it's because country music attracts rednecks because rednecks don't always have mullets. Don't tell me country folk are simply backwards when it comes to fashion because I've seen some hip hillbillies.

Me? I think it's a genetic disposition...

Rodney Crowell appeared Saturday morning on the CBS Early Show. I got up early and prepare a little breakfast hoping to hear a few cuts from the new album, catch Will Kimbrough playing guitar, and enjoy for once Saturday morning. There aren't many talking heads on TV I enjoy as they all seem to be rather bland or so political you can barely stand to watch. I sat aside my disdain for anchors and tuned in.

Gladly, Rodney, Will and the rest of the band played well. Sadly, the anchors were horrific, first announcing "Randy Crowell" was playing and then introducing the wrong song. The interviewer appeared to have been handed a notecard that essentially had wrong information but she also knew so very little about her guest that I couldn't help but shout at the screen. Lord forbid reasonable journalistic efforts such as learning to read a name or actually visiting the guest's website. It was a disgrace and embarrassment on national TV.

It certainly tainted what amounts to a great opportunity for someone to get exposure. Rodney Crowell, despite big-star status, definitely could use the pop on TV to support the new CD and tour. Americana music definitely could use one of its finest ambassadors on TV. It was a great chance all around--and one the anchors marginalized. Sure, they don't care about these things because they are most likely not personally involved in the genre or even fans of the band. Yet, due to laziness, lack of professionalism, or simple incompetence they took the shine off the apple for Rodney and the crew--thankfully they polished it up nicely with a tip-top performance.

I noticed today that two popular radio personalities from two different stations are now on the same morning show. My first thought was what a coup it was that one station had lured away the other's star personality. Then after checking the respective website I realized I had been ripped off by ClearChannel again. Both channels are owned by the behemoth.

This realization made me wonder what will happen as ClearChannel merges more and more of its own stations into mega stations with centrally broadcast programs. It already has the black hole affect--stations go in and no music can escape. Sooner or later we'll be left with a single DJ recording a few key phrases every day which will be mixed with random songs to create a station for [insert your town here] featuring music from SonyUniversalBMG. We'll buy our tickets for the BoyBandX from their TicketMaster division after reading about the show on the single NewsCorp channel our pathetic TVs were reduced to when Ruport Murdoch purchased every last media company on earth. When we come home feeling quite empty after a horrible show, we'll instinctively reach for the radio dial "searching for a truer sound" only to find that AM no longer exists.

Please do everyone a favor and buy independent-label CDs, see your hard-working touring artists when in town, and tune into stations like KPIG and WMNF where DJs still pick the music.

As many of you know Kris Kristofferson is a bit of a personal hero for me. Yes his music inspired quite a bit of my own writing, but more importantly his portrayal of Martin Penwald, better known as "Rubber Duck", in the seminal film Convoy was such a critical part of my childhood I'd be remiss to not cite it as my first Kristofferson experience. When it would turn up on TV I'd spend the day using phrases like "put the hammer down" and "come on trucker" while imagining my life as the Duck. With the advent of cable TV life became wonderful because Convoy was on one of those fantastic 36 channels nearly every month. And for the first few years of my infatuation with the big rigs, I had no idea Kristofferson was a singer/songwriter. To me he was the Rubber Duck.

Today I ended up at Amazon for some reason and among those recommendations they make for me was the Convoy DVD. Wow...a DVD. I could watch Dirty Lyle chase the truckers to Mexico over and over and over again. Pigpen, Melissa, and all those shiny trucks could be mine forever in all it's cinematic glory.