Marty Robbins and Roy Acuff “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”
The digital world often flattens history, transforming once-rare treasures into easily searchable clips. Yet, there are a few pieces of…
The digital world often flattens history, transforming once-rare treasures into easily searchable clips. Yet, there are a few pieces of…
The late 1970s and early 1980s in Nashville were a fascinating contrast. It was a time when the orchestral sweep…
The air is thick with expectation. The stage lights, perhaps warmer than the cinematic glow of a 1987 blockbuster, cast…
The air in the room is stale, thick with the scent of old wood, spilled beer, and forgotten cologne. It’s…
The year is 1971. The air on country radio is thick with the dust of Bakersfield grit and the heartache…
I was driving through a stretch of Tennessee backroads, the kind where the asphalt is sun-cracked and the only companion…
The air hung thick with possibility in the winter of 1956. Rock and Roll was less a genre then and…
The sound of Chuck Berry is the sound of an engine turning over in a dark garage, the promise of…
The year is 1960. Rock and roll, barely five years old, has already changed everything, yet the airwaves are not…
The air in the studio must have been charged with a volatile electricity. It was 1957, and Jack Leroy Wilson…