Moose Nicholson

Nights like this are why we built Amp the Alley. The heat finally broke, the air easy again, and people started showing up early — chairs under their arms, drinks in hand, catching up while the band tuned up. It wasn’t chaos; it was rhythm — that steady build of chatter and movement as the crowd settled in and the day started to fade. You could feel it settling in, that downtown heartbeat that always seems to find its groove right before the sun dips low. And when Whiskey Run took the stage, you

The weather apps played coy all week—never promising clear skies, but never flashing the kind of warnings that would call things off either. The morning started calm enough, but by mid-afternoon the signs crept in, and every refresh of the radar told a different story. I gave up and stuck with the one app that agreed with me. It said we were fine, and I decided that was the truth. The regulars seemed to share the same conviction. Around here, a passing storm just means ducking into one of The Al

County Road 49 made their Amp debut last Thursday, and the first thing that hit wasn’t flash or fire, but precision. They carried the stage with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly where every note belongs. It wasn’t a show built on gimmicks or spectacle — it was built on craft. Brandon Kelly, Paul’s son, looked every bit the wild youngster you’d expect to see tearing up a green room with Skynyrd — but when he hit the stage, it was another story. He played with the poise of B