Category: Music

I Want to Sing About How One Day…

I’ll forget you. This, folks, is mighty fine country music.

About
Raised under the rays of the sun in Huntington Beach, CA, Victoria Bailey was surrounded by music in her household from an early age. From her drumming father’s rock ’n’ roll band practices to her mom playing the narrative-driven songbooks of folk icons like Cat Stevens and James Taylor, Bailey was naturally drawn to music and the art of storytelling. After falling in love with the guitar at the age of 12, she quickly developed an affinity for songwriting in her late teens and garnered the kind of support system every musical child would dream of: her father was so impressed by her talent that he called on his three musically-inclined best friends to join him in becoming his daughter’s backing band, eventually performing shows around town.

More great music at Rancho Radio (on Apple Music).

The Four Best Songs, Ever

So my best songs ever list changes like the weather. But these four have been up there for a while. So there.

This is the best song ever written. I’m certain of this. What an amazing thing it must be to feel this way about another person. Or to have someone feel like this about you.

This is probably the second best song ever written. I’ve felt this way for a while.

And number three. Three.

And the way I should have felt every time I left some place I used to be.

End Over End

We was out in the sticks down Highway Six
And the crowd was just about right.
The speed was too, so out I flew
Like a stick of rollin’ dynamite.

“Course we kept it a secret from everybody ’cause, if our folks had found out, we’d all been off to military school, but then my buddy went and printed up flyers and distributed them at school sayin’ to come and see the ‘master of sparks‘ that night on jack-rabbit road which was Highway Six, our launch pad.”

More great music at Rancho Radio (on Apple Music).

Baby, I Need Something I Can Feel

It’s a dull, cloudy day here at Rancho DeNada, partially because of the weather.

That’s the gun range. Which I rebuilt after some assholes destroyed it. Picasso said every act of creation begins with an act of destruction. Maybe so.

Let’s tear some shit up.

Delaney wants to rescue old dogs and keep them out here on the farm. I told her one old dog out here waiting to be rescued is enough. Maybe I need one of those posters. It would look something like this. And sound something like this.

I can hear the Chuck-will’s widow over by the corner pond. He hangs out over there, I hang out over here. Sometimes we hear each other. I heard the coyotes earlier. Again.

I momentarily forgot how much I dig Jimbo Mathus‘ music. Then I heard this today.

Come find me, and we’ll have a good ole time.

I can’t even imagine what the end of this COVID-19 situation is going to look like. I’m not even sure how I want it to look.

But it’s going to be different. For sure.