A couple of weeks ago, I ventured out for my first concert since returning to New York. In such a big city, the opportunities are almost limitless as to what to do any given evening. There I was at Irving Plaza, on a Friday night to see Drivin' and Cryin' open for Blackberry Smoke. Two hot bands, for sure. Some things just don't change. There was the cornucopia of folks you would expect to see at a rock show. They all look so familiar to me, though it is just the types that resonate. Then through the province of having done this for so long, I started to actually run into people that I knew and have a hell of a time. In New York, rock still resonates.

In my book, performance is what it is all about; being able to deliver in an adrenalin infused moment, live. Life in all its glory. Trying to describe Americana music to people in the past, I always referenced the rock and roll sprit with which it is made.

Take Amy LaVere, for instance. She worked at Sun Studio Memphis, soaking up all the ghosts, and with her upright bass in hand, calls them up in a haunted fashion. She is a master of Americana Noir. In many of her songs, danger lurks at the periphery. This tune is from her 2007 album Anchors & Anvils, and our Spring Music Fog Marathon at Threadgill's WHQ in 2911.  Here's "Washing Machine."

- Jessie Scott