It is a sticky, hot night, and several hundred people wait on hard wooden benches. Fireflies flicker, and on a small, lighted stage four country-suited musicians quietly fidget. In their midst stands an imposing figure dressed in white and wearing a broad-brimmed hat. "I once played the mandolin all the way from Fort Wayne to Nashville without stopping!" he thunders into a microphone. "Don't nobody think I can't play all night if I want to!" As the crowd cheers, the big man leans forward and madly strums the opening riffs to Orange Blossom...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
