Boone, North Carolina. The days are cooler now; it's August. We spent the afternoon wandering about, looking for a place to fill with music. The five can make some beautiful noise. We settled into an apartment opposite of King street. Gear loaded in; people followed. The living room quickly turned into our music room and everything was falling into place. Some found their way from the street by the sound of their strings and voices. Eventually, the room was full, the floor left no open seat and most were getting comfortable.
As the set progressed, we heard some beautiful songs from 'The moutains, the broken.' Some describe Troubel as better in person than on their album. I believe both experiences to be fulfilling, but the sound of the violin and cello reverberating through our ears and against the walls is a wonderous thing. Sweet, soft harmonies and some lyrical eloquence left us hushed and grasping for more. Further along, as if all of us present weren't completely content with the immersion into this banjo rolling, fiddling, harmony of folk that we couldn't get enough of, we were given two newer, unrecorded songs.
The night came to an end. Dinner was on the stove and the road (and tour) called in the morning. All parted ways and just as it had begun — it ended.
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