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Claire is up to her dainties in headlines and deadlines, perpetually prolificking her pulchritudinally printable prosaics, but the missive Mister (in his shummer sorts, no less is more) just hove through my alcove and C-deposited Waylon Jennings' 72nd like a prisoner release. And so, while I am like Eve

I believe Todd Snider's an alright guy, and this is an alright album. Only thing is, it could have been a darn fine album if it wasn't cluttered up by so much filler. The first sign of weak material is a useless cover of a song

The first three Grant Lee Buffalo albums were insular affairs. Together, singer/guitarist Grant Lee Phillips, drummer/percussionist Joey Peters and bassist/keyboardist/producer Paul Kimble fashioned a self-sufficient musical workshop as impervious to pop fashion as a sharecropper is to the vicissitudes of life in the big city. On

Fans of Athens, Georgia, mechanic-turned-songwriter Jack Logan generally fall into two camps. On the one hand, there are those who gravitate toward Logan the do-it-yourself storyteller, whose shadow-filled sketches of prairie desolation and gothic paranoia are created with subtle, painterly strokes. Then again, other folks prefer Logan the ringleader, who

Discussing the term "country rock" in the liner notes to his new album, Chris Hillman says that "The Byrds pioneered this style, Gram Parsons and I defined it and the Eagles took it to the bank." This assessment is probably true, and few are as qualified

On her first album, 1996's Living With Ghosts, singer-songwriter Patty Griffin trod the trad-folk route, stripping her songs to the bone with only voice and acoustic guitar. It proved as satisfying a strategy as it was gutsy, setting in bold relief Griffin's intimate vignettes of love