“I am Taylor,” he assures. My drummer hides beneath her cymbals. My bassist coughs and apologizes to no one specific. The audition flier specifies that our all-girl band, The Four Holsters of the Apocalypse, seeks an eighteen- to nineteen-year-old female… Continue Reading
I’m meticulous about the details — the deep, baritone groove of your voice; the lean line of your hip; your abiding love of bad puns; the way you dip your head instead of saying good-bye. These are my favourites. These… Continue Reading
I had never seen anyone play the fiddle like her. To be fair, though, I hadn’t seen those many fiddlers playing on stage. I am not the most musical person. Jan was, and he reckoned that she wasn’t that good.… Continue Reading
Nick made short work of assembling boxes and filling the office supply orders that had come in overnight. Delivered in twenty-four hours or it’s free was one of Knickerbocker Office Supplies and Fine Writing Papers’ guarantees. The store, an Upper… Continue Reading
Always wanted to live on the coast, so I come down here in — well, a long time ago — and opened this little bar. And let me tell you, I seen a lot of crazy things in them thirty… Continue Reading
There’s nothing wrong with Snug Harbor. It’s a classy, dignified, and orderly place. The shows start and end right on time. But of all the jazz spots on Frenchmen Street, it’s my least favorite. It’s just a little too orderly.… Continue Reading
Derek Hayes, Grammy winner and chronicler of the 70s and 80s, was an inspiration. At least, Sophie thought so, even if her classmates had never heard of him. Derek beat heroin addiction and several bankruptcies, but always came out okay,… Continue Reading
We could see straight down to the bottom of the Guadalupe river that day. There were turtles, minnows, and rocks covered in algae. We walked along the banks, scoping out the perfect spot to sit and pretend we were carefree.… Continue Reading
“What’s that sound?” asks my wife, Kadie. She and I lie in the loft of the barn, the wan light of a cloudy dusk making the world a shadow play through the unshuttered hay door on the west side of… Continue Reading
She liked it rough — she liked it with a rasp edging the honey in her voice. She liked to pretend that it made her songs profound, filled them with the angst so missing from her own life. But Mock… Continue Reading