Friday, August 20, 2004

The last time I saw Bobby Cash he was singing the Indian national anthem on the first day of the last Test at the SCG (that's cricket for the uninitiatied.) Last night he was in rather different but arguably no less august surroundings of the Canterbury Hurlstone Park RSL Club. Most of his album "Country at Heart" is originals but last night concentrated on solo performances of country clsssics, and they don't come much more classic: think Crazy Arms, El Paso, Folsom Prison Blues, Okie from Muskogee (!!), Six Days on the Road, Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town. With his big black hat, fringed jacket and gee-shucks twang, Cash could easily stray into caricature but talent and sincerity count for alot and it certainly was a fun show.

More Steve Earle.

Hometown wasn't always crazy about Patsy Cline

Winchester, Va. — This town and Patsy Cline are locked together forever, and what's past is past: Patsy forgives Winchester its shortcomings, and the town forgives her the less flattering details of her ambitious rise to fame.

This is where Virginia Patterson Hensley Dick was born and grew up. Before she became what she became (Patsy Cline, a jukebox icon, a tragic loss, a postage stamp), it was her wildest ambition to ride in an open convertible in the big parade at the city's annual Apple Blossom Festival. It took a long time for the town elders to pick her for that honor, finally, in 1957. Some people thought she was too brash. Some people didn't think much of a girl who wore pants.

Now they'd do anything to have her back. Because if you're not really into Civil War history, and you don't golf, and you don't care for country B&Bs or lazy Shenandoah drives, you won't find much reason to kill a weekend in Winchester.

Late adition to the gig guide: Reno Nevada at the Coopers Arms in Newtown at 4pm on Sunday.

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