Garret K. Woodward
Last Thursday evening was a pure and present justification of why music (especially when performed live) has such an extremely deep and intricately intrinsic (and lifelong) hold on my heart and soul.
It’s Sunday afternoon. And while many are either watching professional football on a glowing TV somewhere or simply trying to relax and prepare for the impending workweek, an array of cars put on their blinkers and pull into 250 Pigeon Street in Waynesville — home to the Haywood Arts Regional Theatre.
You sure as heck can pack a lot into 365 days, especially when it comes to the immensely vibrant arts and culture scenes right here in our backyard of Western North Carolina.
Sunday. Late morning. I’m awakened by the sounds of a curious dog in my upstairs neighbor’s apartment. He’s a sweet pitbull mix. Always running around the yard, happily barking at the knowns and unknowns of this big ol’ world outside of his second story window.
Editor’s Note: Since August 2012, Garret K. Woodward has held the position of arts and entertainment editor for The Smoky Mountain News. In December 2018, he also became a contributing writer for Rolling Stone.
Below are a handful of excerpts from my Rolling Stone travels this year covering some of the best albums of 2024, excursions that took me from Maine to Montana, Florida to New York, Utah to Kentucky and then some — always in search of all things beautiful and true, especially when it comes to the sacred act of live performance.
It was quiet, so damn quiet. Wednesday evening. Myself flying solo, exiting Interstate 240, merging onto Patton Avenue and rolling into the heart of downtown Asheville. No traffic. No cars. No people. It was odd.
Thanksgiving morning. The streets of downtown Waynesville are quiet save for a slight, crisp breeze whirling through from the mountain ridges cradling the community. Emerge from bed and peer out the window blinds onto the cloudy sky holiday unfolding in real time.
On the weekdays, Alex Masciarelli proudly works as principal of Junaluska Elementary School in Waynesville. But, on the weekends during this time of year, he’s also a member of the Ski Patrol at Cataloochee Ski Area in Maggie Valley.
Since its formation in 2004, The Wood Brothers have become one of the premier, marquee acts in the vast sonic realms of Americana and indie-folk in this ongoing whirlwind that is the topsy-turvy 21st century musical landscape.
Thursday morning. Although the sunshine and blue skies over Western North Carolina seemed rather inviting, it was false pretense as I stepped out onto the front porch and realized that flip-flops were not the ideal choice to battle a cold mid-fall breeze across naked toes.
As the temperature drops in Western North Carolina, the fun only heats up. The holiday season here is filled with events and activities aimed to celebrate the best way we know how — with friends, family and visitors alike.
As fall is slowly transitioning to winter, so, too, comes the holiday cheer. And although Thanksgiving Day, the official kickoff of the Christmas season, is still a week away, there are a handful of events already in motion to get the ball rolling.
It’s not much after 9:30 on Sunday morning. I awoke in bed just as my girlfriend, Sarah, was heading out the door to have coffee and eggs with one of her good friends. Living in downtown Waynesville, she’d have to make her way quickly to Sunny Point Café in West Asheville before the usual Sunday rush of brunch folks and out-of-towners.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, there has been numerous initiatives put forth by local Western North Carolina musicians to raise funds and provide aid to those in need in our backyard.
In the midst of the most important and crucial presidential election in my 39 years of existence in this country and, perhaps, also that of my now elderly parents and long-gone grandparents, I decided to order a New York Strip Steak, medium with sautéed onions.
When it comes to bluegrass guitar pickin’-n-grinnin’ — hell, acoustic guitar playing, in general — one name high atop the mountain of whirlwind notes and pure musical talent is Larry Keel.
It was nearing midnight last Saturday when I found myself in a circle of friends in the small, cozy sitting nook between the front door and the bar counter of The Scotsman in Waynesville.
When record-breaking floodwaters tore through Western North Carolina last month in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, it was only a matter of days thereafter that the seeds for the “Rock for Relief” concert extravaganza were planted and grew at a fast pace.
Hello from Section 117 at the Bank of America Stadium in Charlotte. I’m here on assignment covering the “Concert for Carolina,” a flood relief fundraiser put together by country megastars and Western North Carolina natives Eric Church and Luke Combs. Some 82,000 folks filled the outdoor venue, while around $25 million was garnered during the performance.
With the recent floods ravaging Western North Carolina due to Hurricane Helene, there’s been countless avenues by which artists and musicians have come together to not only raise funds for those in dire need, but also to provide melodic solace and comfort.
(Editor’s Note: Amid the chaos of the recent floods from Hurricane Helene, this column wasn’t able to run in the Oct. 2 issue of The Smoky Mountain News due to space issues in the midst of crisis.)
Hello from Room 13 at the Seabirds Motel in Kure Beach, North Carolina. Saturday morning.
The power of water. Today was a rough one.
To preface, I’ve been entirely caught up in the chaotic whirlwind in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, whether it be with my journalist hat on interviewing flood victims or simply being a distraught resident of Western North Carolina.
On Friday evening, downtown Waynesville was in kind of a festive spirit — a far cry from what all of us here in Western North Carolina have felt for over a week now.
Over the last few days, the Southern Porch restaurant in downtown Canton has been averaging between 200 to 300 free meals prepared and boxed up for those in need of some comfort food — flood victims, first responders and seemingly anyone else who may find themselves hungry in Papertown in the wake of Hurricane Helene.
I ventured down there today: the River Arts District.
Putting the truck into park, my girlfriend, Sarah, and I finally returned to our quaint apartment in downtown Waynesville Monday evening. After a long journey from the North Carolina coast back to Haywood County this weekend, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions.
After floodwaters from Hurricane Helene overtook the Historic Frog Level District in downtown Waynesville this past weekend, several business owners are slowly picking up the pieces.
A beloved long-time Western North Carolina tradition, Mountain Heritage Day will spotlight its 50th anniversary from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 28, on the campus of Western Carolina University in Cullowhee.
Hello from Room 510 at the Delta Hotel. The nonstop hustle and bustle of Interstate 81 just outside the window in Bristol, Virginia. For the last few days, I’ve been up here covering the Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion, one of the largest and most beloved festivals within Americana, bluegrass and country music circles.
Stepping out of my apartment building in downtown Waynesville on Wednesday morning, I noticed several American flags lining Walnut Street, put there by the town’s public works department. Cruising along Main Street, the flag was at half-mast at the bank and also in front of the Haywood County Courthouse.
If there’s one word to describe singer-songwriter Melissa Etheridge, it would be persistent.
From humble and hardscrabble beginnings as a performer in dive bars and back rooms throughout the Midwest in the late 1970s and early 1980s to international acclaim just a decade later, Etheridge has remained a beacon of creativity and purpose throughout the decades — where now words like “legend” and “icon” tend to precede her name in the bright lights of show business.
Hello from Room 12106 at the Fairmont Royal York in the heart of downtown Toronto, Ontario. For late summer above the Canadian Border, it’s quite warm and pleasant on this Thursday morning. Bright sunshine peeking through the window drapes of this luxury hotel in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Canada’s largest city.
It’s a hot, early evening at FloydFest, the storied independently-run music festival held each July in the backwoods of rural Virginia. With live music radiating from stages positioned in seemingly every direction, indie-rockers The Nude Party finish its set to the deafening roar of the jubilant crowd begging for just one more tune before dispersing into the next melodic adventure.
Hello from Cabin 156 at Tryon International, the massive equestrian center and event facility along U.S. 74, just down the mountain from Saluda. The mountains in the distance remind me of the beauty of my home that is Western North Carolina.
The sheer beauty and fundamental foundation of bluegrass music resides in one simple truth about the tones, textures and talents within the “high, lonesome sound” — its timelessness.
To preface, this column does not reflect the views or opinions of this publication. For the last 12 years, this weekly column has been (and will remain) a vessel to conjure and express my own personal thoughts amid the wanderings and ponderings of my existence.
It was a special time and place when rock-n-funk act Porch 40 emerged onto the vast, vibrant Western North Carolina live music scene. In a landscape of mostly bluegrass, Americana and country acts, to see something of local origin with loud electric guitars and amps cranked to 11 was, well, refreshing.
Hello from Room 204 at The Pendry hotel in the Canyons Village of the Park City Mountain Resort in Utah. After a weekend of mostly sunny skies and lush high desert mountains surrounding this bucolic property, it’s currently 65 degrees with a vicious thunderstorm on this otherwise lazy Sunday evening.
When stand-up bassist Sam Grisman wanted to start his band, aptly titled the Sam Grisman Project (SGP), he had one simple goal in mind.
“I’ve always wanted to play bass in a great band full of my friends,” Grisman said. “And I’ve been a bass player in many bands over the years, but never had much creative input regarding what material was being played.”
Getting out of bed Sunday morning, I moseyed over to the kitchen and readied the things needed for a delicious breakfast on a lazy, hazy day of midsummer. Coffee (with whip cream). Eggs. Red peppers. Onions. Fresh loaf of bread. Cast iron skillet. Slice. Dice. Crack. Mix accordingly. Two plates for her (Sarah) and I. Eat with gusto.
It’s a hot and sunny afternoon on the outskirts of Franklin. At the corner of Highlands and Saunders roads sits a nine-acre property of natural beauty, one filled with endless species of flowers and plants, this wondrous piece of earth welcoming the public with open arms — Winding Stair Farm & Nursery.
Hello from Room 813 of the Cambria hotel in downtown Asheville. It’s Sunday night, nearing 10 p.m. Warm air outside on the patio overlooking the skyline of a city I’ve orbited for the last 12 years, a place near and dear to my heart and soul, thoughts and visions.
In the vast annals of American rock music, alternative rock act Cake remains a beacon of eccentricity — this sonic love letter to quirky individuality and creative freedom. It’s a unique blend of rock, country and funk, the sum of which swirling around the spoken-word prose of lead singer John McCrea.
Hello from the passenger seat of my Toyota Tacoma. Seeing as my deadline for this week’s column was nearing midnight on Sunday, I decided to pull over at the nearest exit and let my girlfriend, Sarah, take over driving duties. Pop open the laptop and off we go, eh?
