Q:  You’ve been coming back to perform in Columbus for several years.  You seem to have a special connection to this town.  What is it?

A:  Well, I’ve known Buddy [Nelms, owner of The Loft] since about 1991 or 92.  He invited me to come play at Columbus Day Street Festival around the time he was opening The Loft.  It was a few months after I left Ft. Benning.  I still had my high and tight. I made some great friends here – Matthew Kahler, Keni Thomas.  I’ve always found good friends here and it’s still a good club.  I like to play in a place where it makes sense to play, you know?

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So I met this guy when I was volunteering last fall.  He said he was in a band.  He was a nice enough guy but I assumed he sucked.  I mean, every guy says ‘I’m in a band,’  but let’s be real – most of ‘em suck.  Of course, you can assume that because you are reading this I assumed wrong.  Oops.  Ryan Rulon and his band, Spy For Hire, do not suck.  Let me repeat, for the record, Ryan Rulon and Spy For Hire do not suck.  In fact, they’re damn good!
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I’ve been hearing a new sound around town – kind of like a “this-century” Southern-based twist on 60’s Brit-pop on psychedelics in a garage.  (Think Eureka Gold, Modern Skirts, Noises Ten.)  One band that fits this genre, Atlanta-based Gringo Star, has been garnering quite a bit of buzz, being featured in magazines like Spin, Paste, Blender and popping up seemingly everywhere in the vast musical blogosphere.

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I’m always on the hunt for a new adventure, a new experience, a new sound.  I’m always open for expanding my musical horizons.  Eventually though I always find myself going back to my roots.  I find that rediscovering things from my childhood feeds my soul in ways nothing else can.  At the moment, my soul is being fed by the Packway Handle Band.  This group out of Atlanta plays the same kind of bluegrass that provided the sound track to summer nights in the Western Carolina mountains when I was a youth.  This music is comfort food to me, like auditory mashed potatoes.

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‘My name is Joe and I play the guitar,
Praise God every morning.
All of my jeans got holes.
Everything I own fits in my car.
Don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
Don’t really care if you don’t like my hair.
I am a real nice guy…
No matter what my baby’s momma says.’

I tried really hard to think of an opening line to this article that was better than the verse I just quoted.  I failed.  I can’t top that.  I could stop writing right now and I would have said enough.  But I won’t.
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