There is such a history with this music. From the British Isles troubadour tradition, to the spirited string band stuff, to the Petri dish that was the Appalachian Mountains, to the pressure cooker of the Mississippi Delta. America echoes with the haunting refrain of tunes gone by. And every once in a while you can hear it in the wind, or the hills, or the tides of the ocean. I had that kind of moment when Ronny Cox boarded the bus in Memphis and brought his friends Radoslav Lorkovic and Jack Williams. You could see them in the moonlight around the campfire after driving the cattle, a hard day's night. Earnest faces illuminated by the flicker of flames, finding the notes and the tones, working out the harmonies and the arrangement. And then bliss. Alas, there was no campfire on the Music Fog bus, but I felt the ghosts of Cowboys Past in this song. "Sanctuary." Amen.
-Jessie Scott
