A feature essay from the North Carolina Music issue. I don’t know if Kenny Mann has ever been in therapy, but I do know that he is exceedingly honest and possesses an uncommon sense of self-awareness. He willingly raises and… by Abigail Covington | Mar, 2019

 A Letter from the Editor, Spring 2019. Though I don’t believe new parents must be homebound, another truth of my current season is that my movements are mostly limited to house and office and places in between. So more than… by Eliza Borné | Mar, 2019

A feature story from the North Carolina Music Issue.  The Wrays had an old-world, Keatsian melancholy. It bloomed in the kitchen of their 6th Street home in Portsmouth, Virginia, where, from about 1951 to ’55, they recorded songs on a… by John O'Connor | Nov, 2018

A poem from the North Carolina Music Issue. My burnt body hangs crisscross over Carolina beach dunes below where family gathers children’s ringing sand splash toys tangled in teenage lust the skin consciousness potential of everyone eyeing one another in sunbursted bottoms there… by Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley | Nov, 2018

A feature essay from the North Carolina Music Issue.  Rapsody now dons the mantle for a long tradition of black women, particularly those from the South, forcing Americans to look in the mirror of our professed ideals and to face… by L. Lamar Wilson | Nov, 2018

A Points South essay from our North Carolina Music Issue.  After twenty-four years of educational experimentation and financial struggle, Black Mountain College closed in 1956. Today it is remembered primarily for its tremendous impact on the visual arts. Among the… by John Thomason | Nov, 2018

A Points South essay from the North Carolina Music issue. My hometown is just over an hour from Myrtle Beach, and so it was not unusual for people to make the pilgrimage to the Pad or the Spanish Galleon or… by Jill McCorkle | Nov, 2018

Track 20 – “Mill Mother’s Lament” by Ella May Wiggins; Performed by Shannon Whitworth Ella had grown up in the Smoky Mountains, first on farms and then in lumber camps, where she and her mother took in laundry while singing… by Wiley Cash | Nov, 2018

December 20, 2018

An installment in our weekly series, The By and By. 

The Jim Ridley line that I wrote about in a previous column, his beautiful notion that “you can find your voice by loving things”—that’s absolutely true. What’s also true is that you can build your history by loving things.

April 13, 2016

Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt met during what Clark later called “the great folk scare.” Houston in the early 1960s had a folk community that paralleled those in Cambridge, Minneapolis, or Los Angeles—only smaller and with better bluesmen.

January 28, 2015

In a place where we have few trees and a lot of wind, I’ll risk it and go out on a limb to say that Texas may be a part of the New South. Texas doesn’t believe that, but still, there’s a common bond. Almost. I think it was Leon Stokesbury who I first heard define the Southern poem. He thought such a poem likely included a big dose of heartbreak and comic sensibility featuring family, landscape, and religion in varying degrees and combination. I hear these same quirky, dusty, open-sky, heartfelt mixtures in the songs of Townes Van Zandt, Lyle Lovett, the Dixie Chicks (don’t judge), and more recently, Amanda Shires.

February 19, 2015

A poem from the Texas Music Issue

Townes Van Zandt kissed me on the cheek
after I guarded his guitar.
He had stayed in the bathroom a very long time.
I asked if he needed food 
and he said, I never eat.

May 17, 2016

“I should have put a stop to that craftsman shit a long time ago,” Guy Clark says. “It makes my skin crawl. It’s nobody’s fault but mine because I didn’t step up and say, ‘No, that’s not right.’ I consider what I do poetry. I don’t need to prove I’m a poet in every line and I’m not afraid to speak plainly in my songs. Not everything needs to be a metaphor and I don’t need lofty words. But it is my obligation as a poet to be faithful to the verse. I write what I know. I write what I see.”