For a group whose core mission is to promote positivity and compassion, The Get Right Band has found its ideals tested and pushed to the brink during the current Coronavirus Pandemic. 

Sitting on his side porch in West Asheville last Thursday morning, guitarist Jon Stickley strums his 1958 Martin acoustic. Sunshine cascades onto his large backyard filled with the sounds of birds and wind chimes hanging nearby. 

And though the scene is serene and relaxing, Stickley would rather be on the road and onstage in the midst of the organized chaos that is the annual festival circuit. 

Stepping into the hotel room, my mother had an odd expression on her face when she looked at me and said, “I got you something for your birthday. If you don’t like it, then you can give it away to someone.”

In its 20 years together, Chatham County Line has organically grown and blossomed into one of the most distinct and progressive acts in the realms of modern traditional string and acoustic music. 

It’s the hottest show in town, but nobody is allowed in. 

Tucked in the depths of The Gem downstairs taproom at Boojum Brewing in Waynesville, J. Rex & The Gem Rats took the stage for a bluegrass jam last Wednesday evening. 

Being the nighthawk that I am, it was around 3 a.m. on March 3 when I found myself listening to some music and scrolling through Instagram. 

Suddenly, I kept coming across images of a massive storm in Nashville and of a pile of rubble that was once The Basement East music venue in the city.

In any rock-n-roll band, the unsung hero is the drummer. With a soaring singer and whirlwind guitar solos, the person behind the kit is the anchor for the group — holding up the light at the end of the tunnel of a melody in motion.

In March 2011, I was a 26-year-old freelance writer traveling down Interstate 87 in Upstate New York to one of Levon Helm’s Midnight Rambles. The legendary singer/drummer for The Band, Helm held these intimate concerts in his barn-like home, tucked away in the backwoods of the Catskill Mountains. 

Walking up to the Civic Center (aka: Harrah’s Cherokee Center Asheville) this past Sunday evening, the building was buzzing wildly from a sold-out crowd of thousands eager to see Sturgill Simpson and Tyler Childers take the stage. 

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the images of Jay Blakesberg are worth a thousand notes.

Initially following and photographing the melodic cosmic force that was The Grateful Dead from the late 1970s onward, Blakesberg has traveled the country and the world over, always in search of these serendipitous blink-of-an-eye encounters and interactions that define not only a scene and a generation, but also a culture and the essence of the humanity — love, compassion, rhythm.