New Music from Shannon McNally available now on CDBABY.com

Getting out of NYC proved difficult. The thermostat decided that the Holland tunnel at rush hour was the time and place to demand immeadiate attention. Brett calmly alerted me to the sitch-i-ation. "Shannon", he said, "it appears that the temperature gauge is quickly climbing into the red. Open the windows we need to turn the air conditioner off". "Brett", I said, "the Holland Tunnel at 5:30 pm on a Monday is nowhere to blow your top". We inched through and made it about 100 yards onto the Jersey side of things before pulling into a gas station. We congratulated eachother. Our first big adventure had arrived. After several minutes it was clear that there was really only one solution; I would have to go rent a car within the next 15 minutes and head on into Dixie without Brett who would have to stay there and deal with the automobile. I wasn't too worried about him as he spoke the language but it was a drag to break up the team so early on. The next gig was in Lexington Kentucky and I needed to be on stage 24 hours from that moment...the drive was a full 10 hours and if I was going to make it and sleep during some of those 24 hours, I needed to go pretty much right then and there. So that's what I did.

There's a relief that comes with doing what you got to do. There's no other option really so direction is clear. It was decided, I would leave Brett there with the car and I'd go on to Lexington to meet up with Rail Road Earth. We would reconnect in Asheville, NC two days later. As the universe works, there is always a reason. Clearly NYC had need of Brett and wasn't releasing him. I had clearance to split and knew better than to taunt it. I powered through the drive by listening to 'Old And In The Way', the bluegrass incarnation of Jerry Garcia, David Grisman, Peter Rowan and Vassar Clements from around the year I was born. I'd never heard it before so it was really fresh to my ears - uptempo and in typical Blue Grass fashion, cheerful old stories of the meek and bleak. Ah salvation. As it turned out Brett ended up staying with a friend who was in need of company and whisky, both of which Brett had on him having stopped at the tax free liquor store in New Hampshire for the latter. A $30 bottle of fine medicinal burbon....

Lexington and Asheville went pretty good. Lot's of bio fuel in Ashville. Firmly in Dixie by then, we headed down through Alabama to Birmingham and over to Oxford, MS. Ah home on the road, home for a night. We hooked up with the rest of the band in Oxford and shared the bill with Blue Mountain. The electric set was so refreshing we did it again the next night in New Orleans with Kenny Brown. Everything went smoothly with the exception of some hoodoo voodoo that took the opurtunity to welcome Brett, on his first visit to New Orleans, by messing with his gear. All of which had worked fine since Burlington, as well as soundcheck hours before, suspiciously choked on the down beat of the set. We exorcised the playful spirits soon enough though and charged on. None of the gear has acted possessed since so it to had to be ghosts.

We all stayed in New Orleans that night in my house except for Jake who took the oppurtunity to sample the city's most delicious selection of well informed and articulate jukeboxes and high powered liquors untill well after sunrise! Wallace and I hadn't stayed in the house together since Katrina. Very good friends of ours who had been living in one of those formaldehyde ridden FEMA trailors recently moved into the house with their two daughters. The house had been uninhabited for two years, hence our collective sigh of relief that home had once again been carved out of the ether and the storage unit could be left unlocked as it was empty. Wallace and I took alot of enjoyment out of turning faucets, flushing toilets, using light switches, opening and closing doors and windows and walking barefoot on refinished floors. It all works, is clean and new, completely rebuilt and inhabited. Two years of chaos officially tucked away and over, for us and our friends.

The next day, Sunday, we scurried into Piety Studios to take care of a little recording business that Brett needed to attend to. He needed a rousing version with group chorus of 'Midnight Special' for a home grown play back in Burlington, called 'American Machine'. I've never recorded with this band but boy I oughta. Brett also needed a dirge-like-version of the star spangled banner which wasn't hard to do early on a Sunday in New Orleans. Nicholas Payton was studio A making jazz history no doubt and blasts of greatness could be heard when doors opened.

The band had to head back up to North Mississippi that next afternoon. It was sad to see them go. A better bunch of monkeys you never met! Brett and I had a couple days to enjoy New Orleans before meeting up with RREarth again in Baton Rouge at the Varsity Theatre. We spent the evening in a hotel something we had thus far avoided (except for my one night in Lexington) as we managed to have friends and cronies everywhere we had been. La Quinta came through and we were off early the next morning to Dallas, TX. We drove up 49 and over on 20. The Grenada Theatre is a joy to arrive at. They move you right in, feed you and have a clean shower for you with which to wash off the road. It was good to be back in Texas. It was our last night with RR Earth and we would miss playing with them each night. Violins, mandolins, banjos! Oh my! I dedicated 'Pale Moon' to my friend Carter Albrecht who tragically, was killed two weeks earlier by an asshole who decided to shoot through a door at his head. I wanted to sing the song without choking up but I couldn't. Tim from RRE joined us on violin. Carter was very much loved in the Dallas music scene. We stayed with Carter's friend and manager that night. She asked if we would lend some vocals on the album he and his band 'Sorta' were working on at the time of his death. I hadn't been able to attend the funeral earlier in the month so I was really grateful to be able to contribute in some small part of the closure process for those who loved him and his music. It was sad and I said my goodbyes.

Morning came early and we were in Austin at noon for a taping of theTex Mix Show on ME TV, Austin's music show on channel 15. They'd seen my performance with Marc Broussard's Soul Review earlier in the summer and asked me to come down. The interview went well, we discussed me NOT being a vampire which of course was fortunate for my host. The sound stage sounded remarkably great, a good precurser to the gig later that night at the Cactus Cafe where the stage actually sounded like a buttered fresh baked baguette. Easily the most rewarding show of the run we lingered afterwards with friends. Townes Van Zandt did over 70 shows in that room and he still haunts the shadows.

The longer I do this the more homes I realize I have. Not necessarily the easiest way to gather the mail but quixotically rewarding. Austin is definetly one of my homes. The green lushness of it's oasis cuddles me and kind of tickles. It's hard to leave especially when God tells you to stay.

We had a full days' drive (12 hours) to Mobile. We decided we'd leave after lunch and try to make New Orleans by late evening. We were half way through a scrumptious salmon pate and spinach soup at Chez Nous when we got wind of the weather report which was calling for a Tropical Storm for all of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama....1000 miles through the fury of Mother Nature simply is not safe. At this point I've driven through every sort of weather one could have. Tornados, floods, hurricanes, high winds, great heat, exreme snow and cold....I've survived it all but I've gotten out of the 'risking my life' business it's better for my singing career that way.

Citing transportation issues and dangerous weather we holed up in Tejas. It was a glorious, sunny and hot afternoon which called for a baptism in Barton Springs. Brett opted to read and write under a friendly tree where he innocently overheard and enjoyed local tales of the springs' healing qualities. All of which I would fully support - had I heard them. I didn't hear any such talk as I was underwater.

Shannon McNally headlines the Colony Cafe
By Sandy Tomcho
September 07, 2007

Rich and soulful with a beautiful lilting twang, singer/songwriter Shannon McNally's voice is so entrancing that even when she's speaking negatively about something, it sounds as if she's waxing poetic.
"I try pretty hard to live a media-free existence. I have to on some level. I've come to the conclusion that I have the central nervous system of a cat and that just the electromagnetic energy that comes off the television when the thing is on, I literally think I have an allergic reaction to it," McNally says, her voice showing no trace of her Long Island upbringing. "And forget the content. The content puts me over the top. And I can't really read magazines because they're all designed to destroy your self-esteem and then sell you the cure."
Sorting through laundry with Janice Joplin's "Take Another Piece of My Heart" playing in the backyard, the 34-year-old is home in Mississippi, multitasking before she heads out on the road again. The last time McNally was in the mid-Hudson, she played the Bearsville Theater in March 2006. She's been on the road almost nonstop since then and will remain that way pretty much through December. Her gig at the Colony Cafe is as a headliner, but this month she's touring in support of Railroad Earth, and in October she's on the road with Blue Mountain. Asked if she'll be playing any new songs since her 2006 album, "Geronimo!," McNally gets almost giddy.
"Yeah! I do have a new record comin' out one of these minutes," she laughs. "I don't have a release date just yet, but I do have a new record. They're up on MySpace: 'This Ain't My Home,' 'Jack B Nimble' and 'Sinful Daughter.' Those are three news songs from the new record."
Her insightful lyrics should resonate with everyone on some level, and her music is just as memorable, a melodic mix of rock, soul and alt-country, McNally grabs hold and demands undivided attention from start to finish. No surprise, she's totally unimpressed with mainstream radio and leans more toward musicians that inspire her when it comes to listening as a fan.
"My absolute favorite record right now is the new Mavis Staples record," she says as pulls up her iTunes to get the correct name. "I'm lovin' the last James McMurtry record; it's called 'Childish Things.' The new Mavis record is called 'We'll Never Turn Back.'"
One song on the radio that she really digs is "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse.
"I don't understand the uproar over it, but I like the song. I think it's a cute tune and I like that somebody's like, 'Yep, nope, sorry. Not goin'," McNally laughs. "She clearly might need to. Until I knew what kind of shape she was really in, I thought, 'Yeah, I like that. Somebody who can handle her drugs,' but maybe she can't. I like the sentiment of it, considering now when every poptart on the planet suddenly thinks it's cool to go to rehab. Other than that, I don't know what else is on the radio."
McNally may be allergic to the boob tube and doesn't listen to the radio, but that hasn't stopped from hearing about all of the reality TV shows revolving around music. Unimpressed doesn't even begin to describe McNally's reaction.
"It's reality and we live in it, and that's how people respond to music. They're used to all of this auditioning where it's just about how much s—- will you eat to prove that you're desperate enough to either be somebody's girlfriend or be in a band," McNally rants. "Being a musician used to be about not eating s—-. It was about taking risks and not necessarily being a people-pleaser. And it used to take different things to be popular. It used to take an opinion and risk and creation. Now people aren't creating anything. It's not about anything that matters."
McNally started playing professionally once she'd gotten through college and has since released eight albums and appeared on numerous compilations. She's toured with Willie Nelson, Stevie Nicks, John Mellencamp, Ryan Adams, Robert Randolph and the Family Band and Rufus Wainwright, and she has appeared on most of the major late-night talk shows. As a musician, those are some pretty impressive accomplishments, but her actual list of goals is pretty basic.
"Just to keep gettin' better, to keep playin,' to keep tourin' and to keep writin' really good songs," she says before she whistles for one of her dogs that just ran out the front door. "I have no idea what the music industry is anymore or why anybody should bother with it. What it is now is not what I got into it for on any level. I just wanna make a lot of music and try to keep the bulls—- to a minimum."

The drives have been short since Burlington. We've done about 800 miles so far. I'm in a beautiful loft in TriBeCa. We came in from Freehold, N.J. last night, evening time, having performed at a house party there. Folks brought pot luck, lawn chairs and children. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon.

After spending a couple days in Burlington gearing up, Brett and I did our first show with Rail Road Earth for a nearly sold out crowd at Higher Ground. Good times were had and our first performance came off well. Our voices fit really well and we're both extra excited about it. Despite having been in Burlington those couple days most of that time was spent seeing to travel and gear matters...so there's been a bit of onstage rehersing going on. Some people are religious about rehersal others are functional, some are molecularly disinclined towards it. We are simply lax. Brett's keen powers of observation are what will, in the end, make the show. Sometimes it's better just to play basketball with your fellow musician(s) since after all it's all a matter of catch on stage. I"m sure more rehersing will come in the months to come after we know what we're doing.

From Burlington we gassed up (at the Lucky Spot in Richmond, VT) on B20 and headed to Boston. The sound was excellent at the Paradise Lounge and the usual suspects were all in place. The next morning we were off to Woodstock, NY for a headline show at the Colony Cafe. Woodstock as you may know, is akin to the Bermuda Triangle. Cell phones most thankfully don't work there and the air smells so good it almost makes me hyperventilate in the first few minutes out of the car. After dinner with friends at The Bear, we cruised to soundcheck with the prettiest sound man I ever had named Julia. She wasn't a man at all of course but a real live girl. How nice. And she had the ears to prove it. She got us all plugged in and miced and it was off to the races. The show was intimate and I really felt like singing. I can feel my voice in a good place right now, richer and calmer. Not singing over a band of race car drivers feels rather like floating in the Dead Sea, I'm practically bobbing. Man and how nice is having a mandolin around? Awful nice.

After a long goodbye we poured into the Mercedes and trucked up to Levon Helm's Midnight Ramble in time to catch Lee's set. We were quickly tucked into the fold immeadiately behind Levon. The songs came and went and were great, Band tunes, Dylan tunes, rock and roll tunes. The voices all right on. The band members' playing totally inside and effortlessly. But the push that comes from him on the drums is like nothing, nothing else. It's familiar and not just cause you've heard every lick the band ever recorded one thousand times but because you know it from the womb, like the sound of your mother's voice or the purr of a cat or a waterfall that you knew before you had form.

After church we started another round of long goodbyes that went on for I don't really know how long but I had to hold on to a table so it wouldn't lay down and go to sleep. What a blast! Everybody was smiling.

Leaving Woodstock is like pulling a bandaide off, I have to do it quickly when it's time to go. Get in the car, lock the doors and push on the gas pedal. Don't stop for anything (except small animals crossing the road) because well the slightest derivation from course could derail the next show where ever it is. Earphones and blindfolds should be kept in the first aid box for such times. If you don't have some of those then designate someone else to drive who will turn a deaf ear to your whining to stay and will adhere steadfastly to the sobriety of the plan.

We begin the drive down to Dixie this afternoon. See you in the Big Easy on Saturday with Kenny Brown, RL Burnside's adopted son.

Shannon McNally Starpolish Entry 1 August 31st, 2007

It's labor day weekend again. Guess it comes every year. Two years ago this weekend I was driving north like a fugitive from God. My life in New Orleans had just been flushed into the Gulf of Mexico. I had the week off, thankfully, from the road. I spent that week off trying to find a place to settle my husband, cats and photo albums. We did so in Taylor, Mississippi just outside Oxford in the North of the state. The bubolic sound of crickets was deafening at night and the quiet of the day was as heavy as a dentists' leaden blanket. Our intermitent weeping whizzed like a drill trying to dig a cavity out. It hurt. It must have been hot but I had no sense of it.

It's 2007 now and I'm still in North Mississippi, it doesn't hurt as much anymore but I still drag my tongue over that spot on Labor Day and say ouch. I'm very aware of the heat this week, my week off at home before heading out on Tuesday to join up with Railroad Earth for the better part of September. We start up in Burlington, VT where it promises to be cooler. I'm excited to pack a couple sweaters and my Ugs, maybe even a wooly hat. Though I'll probably wait and find one up North where they do such things with vigor. I wouldn't go to VT looking for a mint julep and I wouldn't look in MS for a good wool hat.

My buddy Brett Hughes will accompany me all fall. He's a good straight man and catches just about anything you throw him. He plays good mandolin and baritone guitar as well and knows all the words to Fulsom Prison. If that isn't a quality resume I never read one. We'll be traveling in his bio diesel eating 1980's something Mercedes, gear in the back.

I've been busy making a tour book repleat with all the details that I'm generally scrounging for at inoppurtune moments, mapquesting and scouring the schedule for spiritual watering holes aka hot spots where friends live...trying to remember what I can about each town. Brett's generally got a bunch of cds that I'll want to familiarize myself with so I won't bring too many. Though I won't be leaving Mississippi without Mavis Staples' new record 'We'll Never Turn Back', James McMurtry's 'Childish Things' and as much Waylon Jennings as will fit in my juice box.

See you around.