Best Country Singer

Mark Rennard

He's the guy in the Flying Mules with the fiddle crimped under his neck, slouched back in his chair, emotionally distant in the eyes and a bit ferocious with the bow. Then he relaxes his fiddle muscles and leans up to the mike, and this 10,000-year-old, warm-as-butter-on-hot-boiled-corn voice just sort of happens. No hamming from him, no bones about it, almost no consciousness of his power -- just a vocal delivery as mighty as a sequoia, as sad as an orphan train, as simple as rain on a day when it looks like rain. The vocal duty duly completed, he tilts back into his slouch and attacks the fiddle again as if it's a witness that he can make squeal only while it's being strangled. Quietly the murderer taps a cowboy boot. Ferociously he fiddles. And then, when the song next demands it, he sings again, and again the history of country music slips unexpectedly from his reddish beard.
More Categories

More Categories


Arts & Entertainment

Food & Drink

People & Places

Sports & Recreation

Goods & Services