As usual, we ventured out for the Songwriter's Festival, as ignorant as always, clutching a five page printed schedule, as mind-numbing as an income tax return. We tried geography, as our strategy, starting at the Vue and heading east (hearing not so good reports about Grand Boulevard), and we found a lot. I knew, in the end, I wanted to hear Devil Music, because Randall Bramlett has hit the mother lode of down home, earthy, jazz tinted, blues with rhythms that hit you below the belt. But, somewhere in between, we found the infectious energy of Old Salt Union, the sweet soul of Drew Holcomb, and the smooth beautiful stories from Elliot Branson, to name just a few. And I repeat, to name just a few. I can tell you, without a doubt, we missed a multitude of incredible performers, who would have added to our education. But in the end, we were nestled at the Bravo, with Randall, as his usual best, playing with a guy named Tommy Talton, someone I most assuredly should have known, from his days with Cowboy and Greg Allman, and I was flat out amazed at his guitar music. I was educated this night. And in the middle of the mix, was a woman's voice and her stories were just a force to be reckoned with. Lisa Mills. I was entertained. I was enthralled. And in the end, I got educated. Isn't that what the 30A Songwriter's festival is about?
