Dolly Parton in Tennessee, early 1960s.
64 things gnipgnop likes Explore more popular stuff on Tumblr →
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theswingingsixties reblogged debbipete:
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merlin reblogged frakintosh:
YES
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Anna Sternik handmakes and sells these awesome one-of-a-kind Zombie Hands bookmarks. What’s more, you can custom order your own and specify gruesome details like how many and which fingers it should have, how many wounds and where they should be, and whether or not any bones should be protruding.
The Zombie Hands are available via Etsy.
[via who killed bambi?]
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Buck Owens by Jon Langford
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Emergency Googly Eyes - Quick, this stapler needs personification! Take googly eyes with you everywhere and personify the whole world.
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countryandwestern reblogged rrrick:
Ray Charles on Hee-Haw - Farbror Sid
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Oh Shit. I almost forgot! We also received our first 7” in the mail from Hovercraft Records! YOW!
Record release details here!
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50 interesting stats re: Portland for the year of 2011.
Check it out!
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Last night, I saw one of the last shows ever to be held at the Southgate House, a Newport, Kentucky, institution for almost as many years as I’ve been going to shows. It was only fitting that alt.country darlings The V-Roys took the stage for the twelfth or so time at the venue a few days before it closes, having last played together as a band in public in 1999. They only recorded two studio albums, a live one, and a handful of outtakes from EPs, but if there’s a clunker in the bunch, I haven’t found it.
I can’t put into words how much I loved the show last night. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been to a show where I knew every word of every song and could sing along to every note.
I remember the first time I heard “Cold Beer, Hello,” in the parking lot of the Best Buy in Greenwood, when my friend Lane emerged from his job there with a copy of Just Add Ice in hand. I fell in love immediately, and have been a fan of The V-Roys and their descendants, Scott Miller & The Commonwealth and Mic Harrison & The High Score, ever since. Hell, Scott’s played Twangfest more than any other non-St. Louis-based artist. We all kinda love them.
Anyway, I’m still buzzing, and my ears are still ringing, and for having two hours’ sleep under my belt, I’m in a remarkably good mood. Music that burrows into your heart and your brain, shared with a close friend and a room full of people only a few of whom I’d murder given the opportunity—popped collar shaved head knit cap in sweltering rock club stupid frat dude dancing guy, I’m looking at you—well, I remember why I spent ten happy years working for Twangfest, and why I’ll never stop going to shows, because on the right night, magic can still happen.
