Led by Stevie Lee Woods — star of the hit TV show and stage production Nashville Roadhouse Live — the band has built a reputation nationwide for authentic, high-energy performances rooted in family tradition and a genuine love of country music. “Welcome to the Southland” distills everything that makes the band special into one current, contemporary sound that appeals across generations.

The song captures the band’s family traditions and patriotic spirit, wrapped in a sound that feels immediate and modern while staying true to where they come from. Woods has been clear about what this track means to him as a performer.

“This is one song I love to perform live and really love for the audience to experience live,” he says. “There is so much energy and synergy that evolves with the audience as the song progresses — you can see them singing each line.”

That live chemistry is exactly what makes “Welcome to the Southland” feel destined to become a country rock classic — a song built not just to be heard, but to be sung along to, night after night, by audiences who feel like they’re part of it the moment the first line hits.

“Welcome to the Southland” follows closely on the heels of the band’s powerful cover single “Where I Find God,” released March 13, 2026 — a country gospel rendition led by Country Music Hall of Fame inductee Stevie Lee Woods, backed by his award-winning band and featuring background vocals from Devin Callahan. Also produced by Chris Omartian and Stuart Epps, that release showcased a different, deeply soulful side of the band’s range, and underscored the versatility that defines everything they make.

Together, the two releases paint a picture of a band moving confidently across the full spectrum of country music — from soul-stirring gospel reverence to high-energy summertime celebration.

This song has everything you expect – a great rhythm section, a huge wall of sound like classic feel-good arena rock, with a massive organ supporting the guitar riffs. Big backup vocals create that sense of ecstasy, a full-throated celebration of everything about the American South. It’s the kind of production where every element is doing its job loudly and proudly: the guitars churn, the organ lifts, the vocals stack up into something that feels communal by design. There’s no subtlety being attempted here, and none is needed – this is music built for rooms full of people who already know all the words, or will by the second chorus.

Woods has been doing this long enough to know exactly what a song like this needs, and the band delivers it without second-guessing themselves. “Welcome to the Southland” is unabashedly what it is – a big, warm, patriotic country rock anthem with its arms wide open. In the live setting Woods describes, it probably hits exactly as hard as intended.

Bringing a crooked gumbo equal parts mournful reflection, brazen feist, and cool resignation to a boil, the band’s unique signature sound finds them sonically untethered. They seamlessly fuse haunted Americana, scrappy Roots Rock, and hypnotic Alternative Country into a multi-layered mosaic fit for a whiskey-soaked all-nighter or a small-town rebellion.

Tamp That Fever Down dishes out hard-won wisdom and cold truths lyrically, all while seducing and hypnotizing the listener musically. Built around virtuosic guitar work, a defiant vocal croon, and a rhythm section that is “tight as a constrictor knot,” the 11-track record comes together to form a deceptively calm uprising.

Dave Hunter describes the new project as a milestone:

“Crowning two decades of acclaimed music making in the amped-Americana vein, [I am] confident this is [my] best album yet, displaying maturity in the songwriting and new levels of musicality in the playing and production.”

Formed in 2025 on the back of two decades of original music-making in the Northeast, Dave Hunter and the Seven Hundred launched their live efforts by recapturing the best songs of Hunter’s former award-winning band, The Molenes, while presenting newly penned tracks in the same amped-up Americana vein.

Through three full-length albums and one EP released between 2005–2015, The Molenes landed on countless “year’s best” lists, reached the Top 40 of the Americana Music Association’s (AMA) radio chart and the Top 20 of the Freeform American Roots (FAR) chart. Their music was featured in movies and network TV shows, playing on radio stations in over a dozen countries worldwide.

Critics have long praised Hunter’s musical output:

• “A Stones-meets-Son Volt gem.” – Jonathan Perry, Boston Globe

• “…One of the best in the not-uncrowded ranks of New England alt-country and country-rock bands… A broadly satisfying mix of country rock, Jayhawks-style folk and good ol’ fashioned honky-tonk.” – Chad Berndtson, Boston Patriot-Ledger

• “Their authentic grasp of roots-rock stylings is fast becoming a joy for the ear to behold.” – Tim Peacock, Whisperin & Hollerin (UK)

Currently playing live dates across the Northeast, Dave Hunter and the Seven Hundred carry the mission forward, taking the music back out to the back roads, dark alleys, and forgotten corners of American life where it matters most.

Inspired by a life lived near water, from Long Island’s North Shore to Washington’s Hood Canal, Hill builds an album that feels intimate and welcoming. Drawing on Americana, yacht rock, country, folk, and soft-rock colors, Love & Salt Water unfolds with an easy charm that matches its seaside muse. The ocean here isn’t mere scenery; it becomes a recurring symbol of perspective, renewal, and connection.

The emotional core arrives with the title track, “Love and Salt Water.” It opens in the hush of childhood beach days and moves toward a meditation on the clamor and uncertainty of modern life. Still, Hill returns to a plain, comforting refrain: “all you need is love and salt water.” That line quietly shapes the record’s overall mood.

Elsewhere, “High Side of Low Tide” finds beauty in small, still moments, while the moody “London” captures the nervous thrill of new romance. Lighter textures surface in the reggae-tinged “Island Girl” and the tongue-in-cheek “Bar Hoping,” which offset the album’s reflective pieces. Stephanie Layton’s vocals on “Stars Are Shining” and “Something Useful” add warmth, and contributions from Hill’s daughters give the project a genuine family feel.

Under Brandon Bush’s production, the record favors straightforward storytelling over spectacle. The arrangements stay relaxed and unforced, letting Hill’s songs comfortably breathe.

Love & Salt Water is like a long, slow walk along the coast at dusk: comforting, thoughtful, and gently uplifting. Like the shoreline that inspired it, the album lingers through its honesty and its remarkably beautiful strong sense of place.

The wait was worth it.

“Working For The Man” pulses with restless desire for independence — a track born from a grey, rainy afternoon in a Portobello Road flat in London, where a nervous teenage Janet sat across from acclaimed singer-songwriter Jack Savoretti during one of her first ever co-writing sessions. Across two days, the pair wrote two songs: “Delicate,” which appeared on her debut album, and “Working For The Man,” which did not. Instead, it became something rarer — a live staple, a fan obsession, and a personal favourite that refused to fade.

“It was so magical to hear the song I’ve loved for so long finally come to fruition,” Janet says. “To go from a little garage band demo on my laptop with Jack, to a full live band in none other than Blackbird Studios. It really felt like a beautiful, full-circle moment. If only 17-year-old me had a crystal ball, she could’ve seen where the song would end up.”

Co-produced by Janet alongside Jurgen Korduletsch and Rick Chambers, mixed by Vance Powell, and mastered by Christian Wright at Abbey Road Studios, “Working For The Man” fuses Janet’s signature country-tinged vocals with a jaunty, gloriously chaotic arrangement of jangling guitars, crashing drums, and spirited piano. Her voice — edged with Americana twang and grit, stronger than ever — guides the song from brooding tension into a soaring crescendo that captures exactly what it has always been about: the restless momentum of reclaiming control, searching for self-identity, and pushing back against a system that asks you to exhaust yourself for someone else’s gain.

The song’s anger is specific and personal. Janet’s parents worked full-time jobs while raising four children under five — she watched their exhaustion, felt her anger at what the system demanded of them, and channelled it into something that still rings as true now as it did when she was a teenager.

“Obviously, that system hasn’t changed since I wrote it,” she says. “It still angers me. That’s why the song still feels so true and relevant to me, all these years on.”

Savoretti, for his part, has never lost his admiration for the artist he wrote it with. “I have always loved Janet’s voice and admired her approach to music. She has always done things her own way.”

“Working For The Man” kicks off what promises to be a busy year on the road for Janet, following a 2025 that included performances at C2C Festival, The Long Road, and The British Country Music Festival. Upcoming dates include:

• April 2 — Camden Club, London (headline show, Chatter Hoochee Podcast)
• May 22 — In It Together Festival
• July 30 — Belladrum Festival (alongside Mika and Callum Beattie)
• August 16 — Country Calling, Essex

“Working For The Man” arrives on the heels of a remarkable recent chapter for Janet Devlin. Her 2024 album Emotional Rodeo reached #1 on the iTunes Country Chart, #4 on the UK Official Country Artists Albums Chart, #5 on the UK Official Indie Breakers Chart, and #21 on the UK Official Independent Albums Chart. Lead single “Houston” was added to the BBC Radio 2 playlist, and an acoustic cover of Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” — recorded at George Ezra’s studio, Hotel Quebec — showcased the range that has always defined her. The 2025 deluxe edition Not My First Emotional Rodeo extended the album’s reach further still.

Janet has been praised by Russell Crowe — who previously took her on tour and has compared her to Stevie Nicks, admiring her ability to be both “ethereal” and “very direct” on stage. She appeared on The Scott Mills Radio 2 Breakfast Show ahead of C2C Festival. And through it all, she has remained exactly what “Working For The Man” celebrates: an independent artist, living and dying by her own sword.

“Cotton Fields” is not about the Civil War. It is about what came before it.

Built on raw resonator guitar, minimal percussion, and a close, intimate vocal delivery that feels closer to a field recording than a studio production, the track leans fully into atmosphere and restraint. There is no dramatic arc, no explicit commentary, no moment where the weight of what is implied is finally named. The cotton field becomes both a literal setting and a symbolic space — a place where beauty and hardship share the same light, where life appears unchanged on the surface while deeper forces are already quietly in motion. The meaning lives in what is not said.

“Cotton Fields” sits within the broader Foxy Leopard narrative as a pivotal transition point — positioned between the already released album War & Peace, which explores conflict, memory, and aftermath, and the forthcoming prequel project Before, which examines how ordinary people slowly drift apart without ever realising they are drifting. If War & Peace represents the rupture, and Before examines the slow drift toward it, “Cotton Fields” exists in the space where both realities quietly overlap — where life continues, unchanged on the surface, while the fracture is already underway.

This is not a single designed to chase immediacy. It is an anchor — a moment of stillness that adds depth and context to a larger body of work, and that asks the listener to sit with it rather than move on.

⇒ Don’t miss our thoughts on “Cotton Fields,” read our review here.

Foxy Leopard is the creation of a Quebec-based musician whose background as a 90s dance club DJ makes the project’s sonic restraint all the more deliberate. Where his roots are in maximalism and energy, Foxy Leopard strips everything back — raw resonator guitar with metal cone, sparse instrumentation including harmonica and banjo, and vocals recorded with the intimacy of something overheard rather than performed. The result is a stark, immersive experience that sits somewhere between 1860s folk, modern outlaw cinematic storytelling, and minimalist alt-country.

At its core, Foxy Leopard is not simply a music project. It is a narrative world — one that blends human storytelling with AI-assisted composition to create something that feels both timeless and unsettlingly present. Each release explores the slow fracture of human connection, set against the emotional backdrop of the American Civil War era — not its battles, but its before. The subtle shifts in belief, identity, and everyday life that quietly lead ordinary people toward conflict they never fully chose.

The project’s first major single, “The Call” (released November 28, 2025), stands at the symbolic centre — the moment where silence breaks and history begins to move. “Cotton Fields” now extends that world further, pressing deeper into the stillness that preceded everything.

Foxy Leopard is not chasing trends. It is building a world. One song at a time.

Built around the emotional stillness of late-night drives and small-town heartbreak, the single captures the lingering ache of absence with striking clarity. Eye of TJ transforms Southern loneliness into something cinematic, allowing empty highways, fading Friday night lights, and porch-lit memories to become part of the song’s emotional landscape. The production balances scale and intimacy with impressive control. Expansive guitars and atmospheric textures give the track its cinematic weight, while the vocal delivery remains raw and emotionally grounded, preventing the song from losing its human core beneath the larger-than-life soundscape.

What gives “Headlights in the Drive” its strength is the way it captures transition, not just musically, but emotionally. The track exists in that uncertain space between holding on to the past and driving toward something unfamiliar. Beneath the country-rock grit and cinematic atmosphere is a quiet reflection on identity, roots, and the risks that come with choosing honesty over comfort. It is this sense of personal evolution that makes the single feel larger than a simple heartbreak anthem.

There are traces of Zach Bryan’s narrative sincerity and flashes of Brantley Gilbert’s rugged intensity, yet Eye of TJ never feels derivative. His sound remains deeply tied to the atmosphere of Mobile, Alabama and the broader emotional texture of the American South.

As the lead single for the upcoming Knowing the Risk EP, “Headlights in the Drive” feels like more than a stylistic transition for Eye of TJ. It feels like an artist finally leaning fully into the stories he was always meant to tell!

Built around raw resonator guitar, sparse percussion, and weathered vocals that feel pulled from another lifetime, the production sounds intentionally exposed. Nothing here feels polished for the sake of polish. The song breathes through dust, silence, and empty space. Foxy Leopard creates something that feels less like a studio recording and more like a memory preserved inside static and worn tape.

“Cotton Fields” says so much by refusing to say everything outright. The writing leans heavily on imagery and implication, allowing the listener to sit inside the atmosphere rather than simply observe it. Lines like “You say nothing here is wrong / Just the weight they carry on” quietly become the emotional center of the track. There’s denial buried inside routine, comfort tangled with exploitation, and an unsettling sense of people continuing forward simply because they no longer know another way to exist.

The repeated refrain “Cotton fields / White and wide / Thread and wheels / Turn our side” almost functions like machinery itself, cyclical and hypnotic. Meanwhile, images like “Pink and white in summer’s sun” create this eerie collision between beauty and hardship, softness and exhaustion. Even the final repetition of “The spark got in / The bell shifts once” lands less like a climax and more like an omen quietly echoing in the distance.

Foxy Leopard avoids theatricality entirely, which works perfectly for the song’s emotional landscape. The vocal delivery feels intimate and worn; and when the subtle backing vocals emerge behind the lead during the chorus, “Cotton Fields” suddenly expands into something communal, as though generations of voices are quietly bleeding into one another.

What makes the track even stronger is the broader conceptual framework surrounding it. Positioned between War & Peace and the upcoming Before project, “Cotton Fields” exists in the uneasy space before fracture becomes visible. Not war itself, but the ordinary emotional climate that allows division to slowly take root unnoticed. That perspective makes the song feel surprisingly contemporary despite its historical framing. Foxy Leopard understands that collapse rarely announces itself loudly at first. Sometimes it grows quietly through routine, repetition, economics, and inherited silence.

There’s also something genuinely fascinating about how the project merges cinematic Americana with AI-assisted composition. In many cases, that combination could feel emotionally detached. Here, though, it actually deepens the atmosphere. The music feels suspended between eras, caught somewhere between old folk traditions and modern existential unease.

Cotton Fields feels immersive, reflective, and intentionally heavy in its stillness. Through “Cotton Fields,” Foxy Leopard delivers a haunting meditation on how division quietly grows inside ordinary life long before anyone notices the fracture beginning to form..

“Train Wreck” opens the record with tension already in motion. The arrangement feels tight, almost restless, driven by a raw edge that mirrors the emotional state within the lyrics. “Been hanging on by a thread about to lose my head” anchors the track, but it’s the way the performance holds that instability without collapsing that gives it weight. There’s grit here, but also control, just enough to keep everything from tipping over.

“Midnight Saving Grace” shifts the atmosphere into something more open. The pacing slows, and the instrumentation allows more space between phrases. There’s warmth in the guitar lines, but also a subtle sharpness that prevents the track from becoming too soft. “Scars take time to heal” sits quietly within the arrangement, carried more by tone than emphasis. It feels reflective without trying to resolve what it brings up.

“Magnolia Tree” leans into memory with a careful sense of contrast. The opening lines create a sense of stillness, something rooted and familiar, before that image is disrupted. “Progress cut it down with loud chainsaws overnight”lands abruptly, and the instrumentation supports that shift by staying restrained. The absence becomes part of the structure. The question “where can we go now?” is left open, and the track doesn’t try to answer it.

“Fight For You” brings a steadier, more grounded energy. The structure is simple, built around repetition that feels intentional rather than excessive. The rhythm holds firmly, and the message remains direct. “I will fight, I will fight for you” works less as a declaration and more as a sustained presence, something that stays rather than builds.

“Bottle It Up” pulls everything inward again. The arrangement becomes more minimal, leaving space for tension to sit without release. There’s a quiet weight in how the song moves, especially in lines like “push it down, forget about it.” The track doesn’t expand, it stays contained, and that restraint becomes its defining quality.

The title track, “Water Keeps Rising,” stands at the center of the album’s emotional landscape. The rhythm remains steady, almost unchanging, while the atmosphere tightens around it. “Chained my leg and I’m stuck 20 feet from the wall” sets a confined space, and the repetition of “the water keeps rising” builds through persistence rather than variation. There’s no shift toward release. The track holds its pressure all the way through.

“Outside the Outsiders” introduces a subtle lift in movement. The groove feels more fluid, with a sense of looseness in the arrangement, yet the perspective remains introspective. “I’m on the outside of the outsiders” frames the track clearly. The tone feels self-aware without becoming heavy, allowing the rhythm to carry some of the weight.

“Die Easy” shifts into a calmer space. The pacing is unhurried, and the tone feels reflective without leaning into heaviness. “Work hard, play hard and die easy” settles naturally into the rhythm, not as a statement that demands attention, but as something shaped over time. The track feels balanced, holding both effort and acceptance in the same space.

“Nashville” stands out for its emotional clarity. The instrumentation remains warm and steady, allowing the focus to stay on the sentiment. “I still love you even though you made it clear that your world goes on just fine without me here” carries that balance between attachment and distance. The track doesn’t push beyond that. It stays measured, and that restraint allows the feeling to land fully.

“Getting Out” closes the album with a sense of movement that feels grounded rather than dramatic. The arrangement supports the idea of departure without overstating it. “When false optimism can’t outweigh the doubts” marks the turning point, and from there, the track moves forward with a quiet sense of certainty. There’s no need for resolution beyond that decision.

With Water Keeps Rising, The Massacoustics create an album that feels cohesive without being rigid. The interplay between arrangement and lyric is carefully balanced, allowing neither to dominate. Water Keeps Rising holds onto its simplicity, but within that space, it carries depth; shaped by experience, carried by sound, and sustained by a clear sense of intention..

Jacarandas is the record Mermaid Avenue have been circling for a decade. Built around the songwriting of frontman Peter Clarke and shaped by the full band across years of playing together, the album balances intimate storytelling with expansive arrangements — electric and acoustic guitars, lap steel, pedal steel, keys, bass, mandolin, and vocal harmonies all finding their place in a sound that feels both carefully constructed and entirely natural. Clarke’s voice — warm, weathered, and frequently compared to Michael Stipe — carries songs that explore memory, ambition, ageing, love, and the lives of characters both real and imagined. It is the kind of record that rewards close listening and rewards it again.

The album’s closing track, “Boy in the Mirror,” features guest fiddle from Melinda Coles, adding a haunting, elegiac final note to a record that earns it.

⇒ Check out our thoughts on “Jacarandas” here.