About the Artist

Kennedy’s sound is as varied as the geography of the Ozark and Delta regions, which he calls home. Like an icy whistle of the winter winds blowing through the thin walls of a rough-hewn pine-slab, mountaintop cabin to the stifling hot and humid Delta swamp, Kennedy’s tube-driven mandolin reverberates like an echo down a deep, dark hollow, and snarls and howls like an encroaching pack of coyotes in the night.

Kennedy’s songwriting harkens back to the soul of the country blues – desperate people in desperate situations, doomed by circumstance and tragedy. There is no nostalgia for the past, only sorrowful memories of hard lessons learned the hard way, sung through the bottom of an empty bottle of bourbon. It’s a cosmic country blast of that high, lonesome sound, transcending the walls of time.