The first Lotus pressing I ever got my hands on was their last, Monks, this tight little package that threw-back to the glory days of trip-hop you’d never hear about unless you were in—(see Deltron 3030, Doctor Octagon, et. al.)—and, in the process, brought the mellow-fellow known as Doodlebug and his “Cloud 9” musings into my life. Here was, far as I could say, a honed-vet jam band biting hip-hop, and I dug it.

There is no denying the power and influence a band like the String Cheese Incident have brought to the music scene over the last twenty years.  As with many of the jam scene’s acts who have been around that long, certain members turn to side and solo projects to further expand their creativity as musicians.  The boys from SCI have certainly shown off their alter egos through such endeavors as EOTO, Honkytonk Homeslice, The Contribution, Emmitt-Nershi Band, Grateful Grass, and more.  However, none of the

After I witness a transformative set of music, this is what inevitably occurs when the dust settles. After a band plays high energy, pedal-to-the-metal music for a cool 100-minutes, it’s difficult to ascertain which pieces stood out as the highlights among many other highlights – the crème de la crème. That’s why I try to balance dancing and having fun with taking notes in the middle of a song or right after it ends. It’s the only way I can filter the musical narrative and determine the truly supernal from the “merely” superb.

Handmade Moments’ first album is a collection of fun, sultry, inspiring, thoughtful tracks. With songs stretching from political to simply lovely, the duo (Anna Horton and Joel Ludford) offers an expansive array of styles and lyrics through their 12 songs. Musically, the album is rooted in strings and jazz; bluegrass, folk and Americana float in throughout the album. Horton and Ludford’s musical and vocal styles complement each other well; her voice sails, while his tethers.

The McCoury family legacy is one of the richest in bluegrass. Father Del McCoury was a crucial member of Bill Monroe’s Bluegrass Boys and achieved legendary status with his souring lead vocals on signature Monroe songs and originals. His band is a family band, and has been for a while.

The beach has always defined my summer. Whether as a child anticipating two weeks at the shore for the other 50 weeks each year, as a teen working at a summer camp and spending every daylight at or near the water’s edge, or in my twenties when I learned the fun of service industry work and living on my own at the Delaware Beaches; beach and summer have been synonymous. Four decades are staring me in the face and now, after just a few experiences in the past few years, I will add shows at The House of Blues to that list of the signs of summer.

As the web of Americana continues to be woven, artists connect the past and present through musicianship and songwriting that reflects a fluid agreement between contemporary and roots qualities. Too often is nostalgia misrepresented as authenticity, and bands afraid to develop their own sound generally don’t last the test of time. Of one Northern California’s most promising ensembles that reflects true individualism through songwriting and playing is Achilles Wheel.

Slightly Stoopid kick-started their Summer Sessions tour July 9 at Eugene's Cuthbert Amphitheater with a skanking, Rastafied set of dub-infected fusion.  The open-air venue, tucked along the banks of Oregon's Willamette River, provided a sparkling setting for a sun-splashed evening of righteous rhythms and knowing grins.

Let’s Talk Phish... "The Phish from Burlington Vermont are morphing and evolving and thrusting forward with the momentum of an unstoppable freight train into uncharted realms”. John Baker – WARP Radio

As a general rule, I tend to avoid double albums like—well, not quite the Plague—maybe just a pretty girl with a slightly-suspect cold sore, or anything by the Dave Matthews Band. And honestly, the one double-record set I’ve ever really dug as a whole was Floyd’s Ummagumma, and only then because that oeuvre de strange-junk quietly embraced its own clusterf—ktitude and didn’t ever insist that anyone should be listening to the thing—just that they could, if they felt like a trip down the rabbit hole.