I scooted to the edge of my seat in the upper circle, craning my neck to see Ryan Adams walk on stage, wearing a wide smile and an Emperor back patch on his denim jacket. He took a look around the stage at the musicians behind him: Ethan Johns on guitar, Cindy Cashdollar on the double eight, Don Was on bass, Jeremy Stacey on drums, and Benmont Tench on keyboards. After a rolling, swooping version of “Dirty Rain” that made me feel a part of one of Adams’ afternoon Pax-Am sessions, I…

On her website, Kelsey Waldon has a photo of her sitting on an old trunk in her Nashville home, a picture of Hank over her right shoulder. If this is the place from where the six songs on Fixin’ It Up come from, then it all makes sense.

Fixin’ It Up doesn’t attempt to imitate the glory days of country, or try to reword honky-tonk motifs cleverly enough to be passed off as an ode, or a…

I’ve been coming to the Vaudeville Mews in Des Moines, Iowa for about seven years now, and I’m not sure I’ve seen more than 15 people at a show that starts before eight. David Dondero was no exception.

David sat at the end of the bar engaged in what sounded like simple conversation with a man in a baseball cap sitting two seats away, sipping on a beer with a massive orange duffel bag at his feet. His guitar leaned up against the wall behind him. …

I’m not going to pretend I ‘know’ Bob Dylan, cite my years of listening to his music, experiencing life through his eyes as life happens, buying every album as it comes out, sitting in a circle of friends awkwardly, almost shamefully, muttering conceits that are far from their intentions (and aside from the ‘point’) in hopes that my assumptions about his inner-workings are close to the truth. I’m 20. I’ve inherited ‘Dylan retrospect’ that allows me to box-in his progression,…