Every year MWD chops the head off an innocent bunny with a cleaver. And he can get away with it, because it’s a tradition.  For the sake of full disclosure, it is always on Easter day and I’m pretty sure the bunny was eating up Farmer McGregor’s vegetables.
In the Devers household we have dozens if not hundreds of traditions ranging from the standard issue (opening presents on Christmas morning) to the less common (playing hooky on Opening Day) and even a few bizarre (shaking a cleaver over a limp chocolate …

“Of course George Strait wrote ‘Desperately!’”

This is what happens when you talk music outside of the bubble, as I did recently while visiting family who don’t really look beyond Top 40 country radio for their daily musical fix.

I think of it as more of a blister than a bubble actually, because after spending the last decade working within this genre, I notice there is thick skin that separates us from the outside world. The community within the Texas/Americana music scene understands the importance of the songwriter to the whole equation in a way that makes us feel connected. And maybe it makes me feel a little superior; I know a “secret,” and even if I share

“You definitely missed your turnoff by about 10 miles … just head on back and take 12 through Wimberley. You’ll be here in no time.”

That missed turn was the prettiest detour I’ve ever taken. I was heading to the Zone recording studio by invitation of Walt Wilkins to watch as he and John Greenberg work on the new Mystiqueros album. During the drive I recalled the first time I heard about the Zone, in the summer of 2007, when both Wilkins and Lloyd Maines (separately) bragged about the treasure they had found. Maines was producing the Mystiqueros’ first record (Diamonds In The Sun) and Wilkins convinced him to try a new place; they were both smitten with the studio. From that moment on, it seems that word of the Zone spread through the Texas music terrain