A dark haired man sits down in front of a microphone with a well-traveled guitar on his lap. He looks at the audience across the stage lighting, strums an off-kilter, wide-open chord, pauses, then sings - “See the stubble wheat fields, far as you could care to drive.” He pauses again, then with a shout, kicks his feet into a galloping rhythm on a piece of oak below his chair and launches into a fast country-folk shuffle. “We go chasing freight trains and watch the autumn geese fly.”

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