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The Tragedy of Sweet Suzie’s Kool-id
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Sweet Suzie’s kool-Aid
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“Why Live Music Is About to Matter More Than Ever”
There’s a strange thing happening in the world of music. The more artificial everything gets, the more folks start craving the real thing. You can already feel it in the air. AI is pumping out songs by the truckload — perfect voices, perfect timing, perfect mixes — and somehow it all feels like eating plastic fruit.
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Tortilla Big Red and Everclear
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The Piedmont Blūz Duo
Keeping Old Truths Alive With Six Strings and a Washboard
Every now and then you run across a pair of musicians who aren’t just playing songs — they’re carrying history on their backs. That’s the case with Valerie and Benedict Turner, the husband‑and‑wife team known as the Piedmont Blūz Acoustic Duo. They travel the country (and a good bit of the world) doing something rare these days: teaching America where its music came from while entertaining folks at the same time.
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Dead Man’s Credit Card
Dead Man’s Credit Card
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“Say Listen…” — Remembering J.R. Chatwell
“Say Listen…” — Remembering J.R. Chatwell
Every town has its characters, but San Antonio had one who could stop a room cold just by clearing his throat. J.R. Chatwell didn’t need a spotlight. All he had to do was lean in your direction and say, “Say listen…” and you knew something worth hearing was on the way. Some men talk. Some men play. J.R. did both, and he did them with the kind of easy confidence that only comes from being born to it.
He came into this world in 1915 up in Weatherford, Texas, part of a big farming family where everybody played piano but only one boy took to the fiddle like it was breathing. By eight years old he was already his daddy’s “fiddlin’ boy,” and by fifteen he was sneaking out windows to play dances across the Panhandle. That’s not folklore — that’s documented Texas history.
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Willie James Lacey
Every now and then, when you’re thumbing through the old 78s or letting some scratchy blues roll out of a dusty speaker, a name jumps out that makes you stop and wonder how a man could play so well and still slip clean out of history. That’s how it is with Willie J. Lacey, one of the finest blues guitar pickers to ever stand behind a microphone, and one of the least remembered.
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One Night the Skies Turned Eerie
One Night the Skies Turned Eerie
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Hard Times Coming
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