Nowhere Man & a Whiskey Girl
A century ago, the biggest and brightest city between St. Louis and San Francisco was Bisbee, Arizona, a bustling mining town nestled among rolling hills and mountain passes, a true Copper Queen. Sadly, she was also born of disaster: the deportation of 1917 in which a thousand miners were left for dead across the New Mexico border, the wholesale collapse of the copper industry some years later, and countless broken dreams in between. Nonetheless, with her character, color, and charm intact, she thrives once again, a seemingly blessed place to do honest work, and, when honest work is done, to drink, to dance, and to dream. In the saloon, plucky piano, six-string strum, and a beaming voice rise above the din. Nowhere Man and a Whiskey Girl are the house band. Amy Ross sings through a smile and conducts the keys of an old upright piano in a celebratory dance while Derrick Ross plays wistful, classically inspired guitar. Like carefree kids on a curfewless playground, they play to sepia-tinged memories, sunkist daydreams, and simple pleasures, wresting hope from hopelessness and countering heartbreak with a splash of humor and a melodic twist. Popular musical conventions having been long since cast aside in these parts, the result is all the more satisfying for it's ingenuity, a fact to which all those present will testify. For the first time, the blissful melodies and soothing sounds of Nowhere Man and a Whiskey Girl are available beyond these borders, having recently been committed to warm analog tape, and, more recently still, carefully mastered as their self-titled debut CD. The resulting assortment of barroom fantasies, Crayola musings, and personal tragedies redeemed invite you to join the townspeople in a drink, a dance, and a lifetime of dreams. Thanks to a little honest music, the Copper Queen shines again.