Stagecoach Spotlight Tour:
Margo Price, Brent Cobb
Friday, April 28th, 2017
7:30 pmBrooklyn Bowl Las Vegas
This event is 18 and over
$35 early bird. $45 in advance. $50 day of show.
All guests must have a valid government/state issued ID for entry to the venue. No refunds.
TICKETS PURCHASED IN PERSON AT THE BOX OFFICE INCLUDE A $2 BOX OFFICE FEE
All general admission tickets are standing room only.
ALL TICKET PRICES INCLUDE NEVADA'S 9% LIVE ENTERTAINMENT TAX
Brooklyn Bowl Las Vegas is excited to offer special room discounts via Caesars Hotels & Resorts for traveling fans. For hotel rooms use promo code: BRB15 at www.caesars.com applicable for rooms at The LINQ Hotel and the Flamingo.
*Advertised times are for doors -- show time not available until day of show*http://www.brooklynbowl.com/event/1433099/
“My dream already came true,” says the Alabama native who has rocketed to Nashville stardom. “All I ever wanted was to get to just ride around and sing country music. It’s cool when things happen along the way, because those are things I never thought I could achieve. But whatever happens, I’ll just keep on doing what I do. I wake up every day and go play some more country music.”
The things that have happened along the way include songwriter awards for 2005’s “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” which Jamey co-wrote for Trace Adkins. In the spring of 2007, the Academy of Country Music gave Jamey a Song of the Year award for co-writing the George Strait hit “Give It Away,” and the Country Music Association did the same later that year.
Mercury Records issued his album That Lonesome Song in the summer of 2008, and the collection was universally hailed as a masterwork. Rolling Stone, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Esquire and The Los Angeles Times are just a few of the major publications that sang its praises.
The disc led to invitations from Willie Nelson to play Farm Aid and to appear on Letterman and Leno. In April 2009, the album earned Jamey a Gold Record. The set’s “In Color” was named the Song of the Year by both the ACM and the CMA. During 2009 and 2010, Jamey collected five Grammy Award nominations. He toured with country titan Hank Williams Jr. and was one of the few country acts asked to play the massive Bonnaroo festival in June 2010.
In the midst of all of this, Jamey Johnson worked little by little on the landmark project that has become The Guitar Song. It is a 25-song, double album with thematically linked sets of songs dubbed the “Black Album” and the “White Album.”
“The original idea was always to do a double album,” says Jamey. “It is an album that is a tale. The first part of it is a very dark and sordid story. And then everything after that is progressively more positive, reassuring and redemptive.”
The “Black” songs include the menacing, partly spoken “Poor Man Blues,” the intensely defiant “Can’t Cash My Checks,” the sighing and bluesy “Even the Skies Are Blue” and the chillingly aggressive “Heartache.” The lighter, “White” songs are highlighted by the strongly autobiographical “That’s Why I Write Songs,” the languidly relaxing “Front Porch Swing Afternoon,” the rocking “Good Times Ain’t What They Used to Be” and the easy-going groove tune “Macon.”
The ambitious project’s textures are many and varied. “Baby Don’t Cry” is a lullaby. “I Remember You” is a gospel song. “That’s How I Don’t Love You” is a deeply sad power ballad. “By the Seat of Your Pants” tells of life’s lessons. The title tune, “The Guitar Song,” is told from the point of view of two forgotten guitars hanging on a pawn shop wall. “Playing the Part” and “California Riots” come from feeling out of place as a country boy in Hollywood.
Jamey Johnson is a lover of classic country sounds, and he regularly performs oldies in his stage shows. The Guitar Song contains his versions of Kris Kristofferson’s “For the Good Times,” Vern Gosdin’s “Set ‘Em Up Joe” and Mel Tillis’s “Mental Revenge.” “Lonely at the Top” is a previously undiscovered gem co-written by the late Keith Whitley.
“Picking the songs for it was easy,” says Jamey. “They pretty much picked themselves. We just had to decide which album each one went on and at which point on the record should each one occur. Once we decided where each fit, it was a done deal.
“When I did That Lonesome Song, I was in town all the time. It was just a drive to the studio. But this album here, we’ve had to record things on the fly, on the road, in studios here and there, wherever we were. I think we went around the country five or six times while we were making The Guitar Song.”
Recording sessions for the two-hour music collection were held in Los Angeles, Nashville and at Jimmy Buffett’s Shrimp Boat Studio in Key West, Florida. The singer-songwriter began working on it in early 2007 and concluded the project by delivering it to surprised staffers at the Universal Music Group offices in downtown Nashville via an armored car and a guard squad of 40 men in April 2010.
That’s a typically unorthodox gesture from an artist who has always marched to the beat of a different drummer. He was raised outside Montgomery, Alabama in a family that was poor but highly musical. Like many country artists, Jamey first performed gospel music in churches. Unlike most, he is a formally trained musician who understood music theory as early as his junior-high years.
Jamey Johnson is a study in contrasts. He was raised in a devout household, yet he spent part of his youth drinking beer and playing songs at night on the Montgomery tombstone of Hank Williams. He is deadly serious about his music, yet has a wry and witty sense of humor. With his piercing pale-blue eyes and biker beard, he looks like a hell raiser, but he has the heart of a poet. He seems like a rebel, but Jamey Johnson spent eight years as a member of the highly disciplined U.S. Marine Corps Reserves.
Jamey arrived in Nashville on Jan. 1, 2000, spending every dime he had to make the move. In 2001-2004 he ran his own construction company. Performing in Nashville nightspots led to work singing songwriters’ “demo” tapes on Music Row. Word of his talent got around. In 2005, he landed his first recording contract and had a hit with his song “The Dollar.”
But when his record-company lost interest, and he went through a painful divorce, Jamey Johnson came to the darkest place in his life. The bright side of this time period was the creation of many of the compositions that became That Lonesome Song.
At first, he intended to put that record out himself. But when UMG Nashville’s chairman and CEO Luke Lewis promised complete creative freedom, Jamey Johnson brought his distinctive sound to Mercury Records. In the two years since then, he has been burning up America’s highways with his Kent Hardly Playboys band.
“The road is where it’s at. I love it. That’s where you take country music. You don’t get the message out there by sitting at the house. I go out there and meet the people. When I come back home to make an album, I don’t want you to second-guess me. I’m telling you what is the right thing, because I’m the guy out there shaking their hands every night.”
“Everything comes from God. So when I write, it is my gift to Him. It is my interpretation of what He gave me, the circumstances that I drew the material from. So when I get done with a song, it’s not for my fans. It’s certainly not for the industry, the trophies, the accolades and the plaques. It is straight from me to God.”
Throughout Midwest Farmer’s Daughter, Price recalls hardships and heartaches – the loss of her family's farm, the death of her child, problems with men and the bottle. Her voice has that alluring mix of vulnerability and resilience that was once the province of Loretta and Dolly. It is a tour-de-force performance that is vivid, deeply moving and all true.
From the honky tonk comeuppance of “About To Find Out,” to the rockabilly-charged “This Town Gets Around” to the weekend twang of “Hurtin' (On The Bottle)”, Price adds fresh twists to classic Nashville country, with a sound that could’ve made hits in any decade. Meanwhile, the hard-hitting blues grooves of “Four Years of Chances” and “Tennessee Song” push the boundaries further west to Memphis (the album was recorded at Sun Studio).
Price grew up in Aledo, Illinois (pop. 3,612), and after dropping out of college, she moved to Nashville in 2003. She soon met bass player – and future husband – Jeremy Ivey, and formed a band called Buffalo Clover. They self-released three records and built a local following, but it was personal tragedy that brought Price’s calling into even sharper focus. “I lost my firstborn son to a heart ailment,” Price says, “and I was really down and depressed. I was drinking too much. I was definitely lost. I did some things that I regret very much now that resulted in a brush with the law. Thank god I had my friends and family to keep me going. Coming through that, I thought, 'I'm just going to write music that I want to hear.' It was a big turning point.”
After recording the album with her band at Sun Studio and shopping it to a number of Nashville labels, Price reached another critical career moment when a friend brought up Third Man Records and told her, “You're on Jack's radar, he wants to hear the record.” Price says, “I sent it over, and it just felt like home. A good creative space to be involved in, and everyone is so down to earth. It was awesome when I met with Jack. He told me he thought my voice was a breath of fresh air, and that he loved the record.”
As Price looks ahead to a busy 2016, full of touring and promoting Midwest Farmer's Daughter, she reflects on her hopes for what listeners might get from these songs. “I hope that the record helps people get through hard times or depression. That's ultimately what music did for me in my childhood, and especially in my early adult years. It's about being able to connect personally with a song, and hopefully, it makes you feel not so lonely.”
“It just is Georgia,” Brent says in his musical drawl. “It's just that rural, easy-going way it feels down there on a nice spring evening when the wind’s blowing warm and you smell wisteria, you know?”
It’s quiet down there where he’s from in Ellaville – “population 1,609” - laid back and forgotten in the shadow of Atlanta and Savannah. The people have blue-collar values and believe in treating your neighbor like you want to be treated. They believe in curses and the dark finger of Fate and wield a sharp, dark sense of humor that sustains them through the hardest of times. Distant radio stations, roadside honkytonks made of cinderblock and back-porch picking sessions heavy on the backbeat predominate under Spanish moss-strewn live oaks and loblolly pines.
It was the perfect place to grow up.
“Lord, when I die, let’s make a deal,” Brent sings on the album’s swirling thesis statement, “South of Atlanta,” “lay me down in that town where time stands still.”
Shine on Rainy Day is an album Brent’s been trying to make for a decade, enlisting his cousin and fellow Georgian, Dave Cobb, the Grammy Award-winning producer whose Elektra Records imprint Low Country Sound is home to the album.
Brent wanted to record an album that felt Southern, though not the kind of Southern you might expect. Neither Southern rock nor mainstream country, the sound sits somewhere on the wide bandwidth that exists between the two. Cousin Dave helped him find the right vibe, full of blue-eyed soul, country funk and the kind of swamp boogie sounds that predominated pop in the 1960s and early 1970s. There’s a reason Georgia was always on Ray Charles’ mind, after all.
“I don't mean to get weird and be into, like, deep shit, but it really has got to be blood,” Brent said. “When I write songs, it's almost like I didn't write them. You know it's just like this is happening right now and it just comes out. He's the same way in the studio. He's like, ‘Put this right here and play it like this,’ and you're like why? And he’s like, ‘I don't know, it's just the way it's supposed to go.’ That's exactly how I write songs.”
Brent finds it a strange sensation to be so closely linked to someone. Though cousins, the Cobbs didn’t know each other growing up. Dave’s a little bit older than 29-year-old Brent and his father was the one brother who left the area and moved away – to an island off the coast from Savannah. So when they first met – as adults at an aunt’s funeral – Brent was wary. And a little bit of an ass.
“We're standing around outside and I was like, ‘Man, we hear you're producing in L.A. What you produced?’ just kind of like a jerk, really,” Brent said with a laugh. “He told me Shooter Jennings’ 'Put the O Back in Country,' and that floored me, man. Because me and my buddies working at a tree service, we’d get off work, somebody would get a 12 pack, we’d get stoned and listen to 'Put the O Back in Country,' man. We knew it was the cool country. We knew it was for real. Man, I mean it was the shit.”
Brent’s dad shamelessly slipped Dave a disc of six acoustic songs Brent recorded as he left town. Dave didn’t really want to listen to it, but his wife, Lydia, convinced him to stick it in the car’s player on the way to the airport. Not long after Jennings called and invited Brent out to Los Angeles.
He spent four months there, but after living through an earthquake, a drought, a near car-jacking and a drive-by shooting he returned home where he lived for about four months before an old acquaintance from the area, Luke Bryan, called out of the blue. Bryan invited Brent to stay with him and his wife for a week to write and get to know Nashville.
Not long after he returned for good and recorded a well-received EP that led to 3½ years on the road, touring with a band and opening for every big player in country. He decided that wasn’t what he was looking for either, and began to focus more deeply on songwriting. He landed several cuts – most notably Miranda Lambert’s “Old Shit,” Kenny Chesney’s “Don’t It” and Bryan’s “Tailgate Blues”- while working on his own songs and searching for a direction for his long-delayed debut.
Meanwhile, Dave left L.A. for Nashville and began building a reputation as one of music’s most exciting producers for his work with Chris Stapleton, Jamey Johnson, Sturgill Simpson and Jason Isbell. As part of his deal with Elektra, he conceived of a concept album called Southern Family and thought it only right his “bitch ass little cousin” have a part. “So I was like, ‘I’ll be there,’” Brent said. He contributed “Down Home” to the album and also mentioned the project to Lambert, who wanted in and sang the Brent-written “Sweet By & By,” a standout on an album full of them.
It was during these sessions that the Cobbs began to notice a real connection in the way they would approach songs during the recording process. “It just felt like home, you know?” Brent said. “I made the comment, ‘Dude, let's just do it.’ So we did.”
From the Nashville slice-of-life narrative of “Solving Problems” to the delicate and powerful interplay of acoustic and electric guitars on the stunning closer “Black Crow,” the album feels like the people, places and sounds of Brent’s life.
The album carries something of a Southern Gothic narrative, alternating between dark visions and self-deprecating scenes of black humor that bubble up in laugh-or-cry moments. He chose the album’s title after a friend heard “Shine on Rainy Day” following a family tragedy and mentioned how powerful it was to him.
“When you have a bad storm that hits, the next day the trees are in full bloom and the grass is greener and lightning cleans the air up,” Brent said. “My friend called me up out of the blue and said that song hit him so hard. It’s talking about a rainy day, they’re going through a real life rainy day.”
Like “Shine on Rainy Day,” the album alternates between light and dark. In “Black Crow,” a doomed soul argues with a laughing crow sitting on a fencepost, “Black crow, I ain’t a joke no more!,” before earning a prison sentence in a corner store robbery. “Lord,” he sings, “I can feel those spirits carrying me down” before Jason Isbell unleashes a devilish slide guitar line that feels like a Neil Young guitar solo.
The deliciously self-deprecating “Diggin’ Holes” has that giddy AM radio/Gram Parsons feel with dancing music accompanied by dark lyrics that are both funny and painful. “I ought to be workin’ in a coal mine/Lord knows I’m good at diggin’ holes.”
“Down in the Gulley” is a sour mash-flavored short story with a first line worthy of Faulkner or O’Connor: “My granddaddy was a good man – no matter what the papers said.” The dread-filled “Let the Rain Come Down” opens with visions of doom, a rattlesnake strung from a tree and a witch’s curse: “She put a curse on me/Another on the river/And now my crops won’t grow no more.”
“Solving Problems” was written sitting on a balcony overlooking an especially historic corner of historic Music Row while thinking about Kris Kristofferson’s “To Beat the Devil,” which has a spoken word section that feels lifted right from the Row.
“The energy just feels crazy around here,” Brent said. “I loved how Kristofferson would capture the present moment of his Nashville during that time. Nobody does that anymore.”
“Country Bound” is the only song on the album not written or co-written by Brent. Instead, the song was written by his father and uncle in a far-off place called Cleveland.
“It was the first song I ever witnessed being written in my life,” Brent said. “I was 5 years old and it was the first time I ever saw snow, too. We were up in Cleveland for Christmas. My uncle had been through this breakup and he was wanting to get the hell out of Cleveland and go to Georgia.”
Brent knows the feeling, and after listening to Shine on Rainy Day, he hopes you get it, too. He has never been more proud of his work. After 10 years of searching and struggle, the LP sounds and feels exactly how he wants it to. Like home.
“It’s not as good as it's going to get,” Brent said. “But if it’s the last thing that I ever do, if I died the day after it came out, then thank God I was able to record it because the songs and the production, it was everything I wanted to say. Finally.”
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