Originally published in our Tennessee Music Issue  There is a remarkable story tucked halfway through Bessie, Chris Albertson’s biography of the blues singer Bessie Smith, in which Smith approaches a circle of robed North Carolina Klansmen, places one hand on her hip,… by Amanda Petrusich | Nov, 2020

Playlists curated by your favorite musicians and writers. by Brittany Howard, Kiese Laymon, Rosanne Cash, Kelsey Waldon, & others | Nov, 2020

An introduction to the Music Issue’s Icons Section Beyond my eye, beyond the death and decay of matters left behind and unsettled, the music ringing up above my head told a thousand stories of bounty and belonging, and it glimmered… by Danielle A. Jackson | Nov, 2020

Originally published in our 2007 Music Issue  In a remarkable 1963 appearance with Juilliard professor and friend, Hall Overton, at the New School in New York, Monk demonstrated his technique of “bending” or “curving” notes on the piano, the most… by Sam Stephenson | Nov, 2020

Originally published in our North Carolina Music Issue.  I wanted to start with the wild weeds and the creaking wood on the front porch, walking up to Nina Simone’s childhood home in Tryon, North Carolina. I wanted to start where… by Tiana Clark | Nov, 2020

An essay from the Greatest Hits Music Issue The first songs that I listened to by Talibah Safiya had this soft, sweet, plaintive quality. There is something else underneath if you listen a bit closer: a little loneliness. The knowledge… by Jamey Hatley | Nov, 2020

An introduction to the Greatest Hits Music Issue How does the South inform my music? How do I describe the sound that your bare feet make when they pat the cool, packed red dust under them? How do I describe… by Brittany Howard | Oct, 2020

 A Letter from the Editor, Food Issue. Quiet as it is kept, and widely as it has become forgotten, those who do the cooking and the farming know that those who only eat what is cooked for them and served… by Alice Randall | Mar, 2021

March 17, 2020

Poems from the Spring 2020 issue.

In bedsheets, we are gravel thrown 
from the wheels of a pickup; we are making a mess 
of our bodies, so our lives will be less so.

August 25, 2020

A poem from the Place Issue

Two hundred thousand miles away / in this ashen desolate terrain / you could almost forget our gun-smoked globe, / the wars raging like wildfire back home. 

April 01, 2015

A poem from our winter 2014 issue.

Like a lark    lift        into moonlight.    Like          the muzzle
of a gun    I      should have raised.      Like NPR.
  Like the joyride           in an elevator               by two teens

July 30, 2015

“Of Thorns,” “Trundle,” “Liquid Assets,” “The Hill Itself”

. . . in that shabby closeness, that’s where whatever it is that saves me is,
where, praise to be something, it waits in briars like Jesus or literature.

October 28, 2016
A poem from the Fall 2016 issue. 
 
What are the details I’ve left out? That I’m not
 
poor. That I’ve never had to buy food
at the Dollar Store at the end of the month.
 
That I’m relentlessly straightforward lately,
which has to do with my need to tell you
 
exactly what happened, because what happened
is so unclear.
March 14, 2017

A poem from the Spring 2017 issue.

Beneath the knotted rows of cane 
that hid me, thrummed knuckle-red,
a belting out—ribs, wrist, my gone warble 
knocked soundless, torched wails uprooting:
What a song to be bosomed with.

 

September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

Always walked this close between the rows.
Always smoked so many seeds.

You will find yourself dragging 
             a live rabbit 

by one foot, the other kicking.
February 19, 2015

A poem from the Texas Music Issue

Townes Van Zandt kissed me on the cheek
after I guarded his guitar.
He had stayed in the bathroom a very long time.
I asked if he needed food 
and he said, I never eat.

March 14, 2017

A poem from the Spring 2017 issue.

I remember the raw December weather,
boys shouting curses and most of them drunk.

I remember the wind in the barley stubble.
I remember the man they dragged from the trunk.
September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

There were more rebel flags and gun shops 
in Indy than Virginia, fewer mountains, 
less green for our eyes, and our cat 
wasn’t born there, she was born here, 
under the house, and if nothing