I swear I met the ghost of Mark Twain on this riverboat outside of Montgomery, AL a few years back... I'll have a tale to tell of him one of the nights here at The Redwood Room, where taste travels well, from mouth-watering fare to storied songs which flow as winding streams or plumb depths…
Jails may rot into rusty decay, but some forms of incarceration remain invisible to all but the most sublime sense, which always whispers, "Freedom is the absence of all fears..." Come on in for some revelatory renditions of outlaw country classics and homespun spoken word stories set to dinner fare styled to aid digestive conversation...
Some prodigal sons never find their way back home to stay, let alone play... I'll have stories in song and spoken word herded in the tellings of border crossings and once misguided trails realigned to pole stars for repurposed outlaw homings...
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