How about some "Folk-n-Roll" ?
Backline Music Hall, Tupelo, Mississippi | June 26, 2026
Another Weekend, Another Great Show
Once again, we found ourselves making the drive over to Backline Music Hall in Tupelo, Mississippi. That 25-minute ride has gotten so familiar at this point that I’m starting to work out the most economical route. Not the fastest. Not the prettiest. The most economical. Gas prices have a way of turning every music writer into a part-time cartographer.
I rolled in around 7ish for a show built around two Birmingham, Alabama songwriters, Taylor Hollingsworth and Will Stewart, both carrying their own shape of Country, Americana and what Taylor proudly calls folk-n-roll. The billing had that nice Southern triangle to it: Alabama players, a Tupelo listening room and a room full of people willing to follow a song wherever it decided to wander.
Backline has become one of those rooms where you can feel the work being put in. It is not a giant venue with arena tricks or a crowd so big the songs have to fight for oxygen. It is a place where the performance has to stand up close. The players are right there. The picking, the lyrics, the little jokes between songs, the tuning, the stories, the silence after a line lands right. It all has nowhere to hide, which is exactly why nights like this fit the place so well.
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Taylor Hollingsworth and the folk-n-roll machine
Taylor Hollingsworth came in with a name already tied to several corners of the Birmingham music world. He has been a fiercely independent solo artist, a fast-fingered guitarist, a collaborator and the lead guitarist for Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band. He has also been part of projects like The Blips and Dead Fingers, the latter with his wife, Kate Hollingsworth. That is a lot of musical road dust on one set of boots, but the thing that stood out most at Backline was not résumé weight. It was how comfortable he seemed inside his own strange little lane.
Taylor has called that lane folk-n-roll, and the phrase makes more sense when you hear it moving instead of sitting on a page. It is not folk music dressed up in a leather jacket. It is not rock stripped down until it behaves. It sits somewhere between fingerpicked storytelling, bluesy motion and a garage-rock smirk, the kind of thing that sounds like it was built out of porch boards, tube amps and a few questionable decisions.
His one-man show did not disappoint. Taylor handled everything like a smooth professional, never missing a beat while keeping those fingers moving at a pace that made the guitar players in the room pay closer attention. Being a guitarist myself, and I use that term in the garage-rocker-only sense, I really enjoyed watching him work. There is something about seeing a musician make a full room out of one guitar that will humble a person real quick.
He has mastered fingerpicking in that way where the technique does not feel like a flex, even though it absolutely is. The hand moves fast, but the songs do not feel rushed. The playing gives the lyrics a floor to dance on. Sometimes it leaned playful. Sometimes it got gritty. Sometimes it sounded like a man digging through an old toolbox and somehow finding a melody between the wrenches.
Shady people, boxers and hot dogs
Taylor moved through older tunes and newer material from his upcoming full-length album, Folk N’ Roll, which is set for release on August 21, 2026. He gave the room a taste of songs including “Shady People,” “The Boxer,” “Ring Around Saturn” and the wonderfully titled “Hot Dogs.” That last one alone proves there is still plenty of room in music for songs that do not walk around acting too important for the room they are in.
“Shady People” had the raw, oddball pull of a song that knows exactly who it is side-eyeing. “The Boxer” carried more weight, with that storyteller’s patience that lets the character breathe before the song tells you what to think. Taylor’s lyrics have a way of coming off casual until one of them slips a hand under your ribs. That is the trick. Keep the room smiling, then sneak in the bruise.
Will Stewart brings Birmingham stories to Tupelo
Will Stewart’s part of the night brought a different but related kind of Southern storytelling. Also from Birmingham, Will has built a catalog around detailed character writing, country-rock atmosphere and the kind of songs that feel like they are watching small-town life through a cracked motel window. His work runs through solo records like County Seat, Slow Life and Moon Winx, along with projects including The Blips, Timber and Slack Times.
With the full band behind him, Stewart’s songs had more spread. Where Taylor’s set made one guitar feel like a room, Will’s band let the songs stretch out across the walls. There was twang in it, but not the postcard kind. There was rock in it, but not the kind trying to prove it had the biggest boots in the parking lot. It had that Birmingham Americana feel, a little dusty, a little literary and always watching the characters just long enough to catch them telling on themselves.
Both artists are strong storytellers, but Will’s writing leans into scenes that feel pulled from Southern life at ground level. He writes about struggle, escape routes, memory, small-town limits and the people who keep circling the same roads even when they swear they are leaving. His songs do not treat the South like a decoration. They treat it like a place with bills due, old grudges, bar lights, family ghosts and a radio still trying to reach somebody through the static.
Bad memories and radio signals
The set opened with “Bad Memory,” a song that carried the feeling of trying to make peace with something that did not end clean. That is a tough mood to start with, but it worked because the band did not overplay it. They let the song find its own weather. Will’s voice sat inside the story instead of standing outside it, and the room settled into that patient rhythm where people stop waiting for the hook and start listening for the line.
From there, the band worked through a 14-song set that included “Just Be Sweet,” “Firebird,” “Til We Hear the Radio,” “Tipsy” and “Dark Haus.” “Til We Hear the Radio” had that late-drive feeling, the kind where the road is dark enough that the dashboard starts to feel like company. “Firebird” brought a sparkier edge, the sort of song title that already has gasoline in it before the first chord hits.
Will’s band gave the songs texture without crowding the writing. That is not always easy. Americana can get too polished and sand the splinters off itself, or it can go too loose and forget the song has a spine. This set stayed in the pocket. The guitars had air. The rhythm section kept things grounded. The songs were allowed to sound weathered without sounding tired.
One of the best parts of watching artists like Stewart in a room like Backline is being able to hear the craft without the fog machine. The stories are right there. The little turns in the lyrics are right there. You can hear when a band knows how to leave space. You can hear when a line has been carried around for a while before being put into a song.
To close the set, Taylor joined Will and the band for a song they had written together back when they were bandmates, “Inside Out” [verification needed]. That moment gave the night a nice full-circle feel. Two Birmingham songwriters who had each brought their own angle to the room ended up sharing the stage, reminding everyone that music scenes are built out of those overlapping roads. Bands split off. Projects branch out. People make solo records. Then sometimes, for a few minutes on a Friday night in Tupelo, those roads meet again.
A crowded weekend in North Mississippi
It was not the easiest weekend for a smaller local room to pull attention. Tupelo and the surrounding area were busy, busy, busy. The North Mississippi Hill Country Picnic was happening, which is a great event and definitely on my bucket list. Journey had a Saturday show at the local arena. Other strong bands and musicians were scattered across local spots and weekend events. Festival season and holiday season have arrived in the South, and when summer rolls in down here, the calendar does not politely ask who already has plans.
That kind of weekend can put a damper on the smaller local scene. Not because the show is lacking, but because there are only so many people, so many dollars and so many hours in one weekend. A room like Backline has to compete with big names, outdoor events, nostalgia tickets and every other glowing thing trying to pull people out of the house. That is a heavy lift.
Still, the BLMH team brought another good one to the scene. They keep putting these nights in front of people, and rooms like this do not survive on good intentions alone. They need people to show up. They need people to buy a ticket, grab a drink, tell a friend and come back the next time. Local venues are not just buildings with stages. They are the places where touring songwriters can stop, regional scenes can cross-pollinate and listeners can find something they did not know they needed.
Support local music and venues
This night gave Tupelo two gifted songwriters from our mirror state of Alabama. We heard songs of joy, entanglements, bad memories, odd characters and the kinds of Southern stories that do not fit neatly into one genre name. We heard folk-n-roll. We heard Birmingham Americana. We heard guitar work that made me want to go home and practice, then immediately remember I am still a garage rocker at heart.
That is the good stuff.
The night also closed out our June calendar of events, which feels a little wild to say. Now we slide into July, and it is getting hot in the South. Not just the temps either. The music calendar is heating up, and I keep saying I need four more of me to cover everything happening in this area. Between Muscle Shoals and Clarksdale, there is so much musical history packed into the ground that it almost feels unfair. But then again, this is where so much of American music learned how to walk, shout, swing, testify and break your heart in three chords.
So if Taylor Hollingsworth comes through your town, catch him. If Will Stewart shows up on a bill near you, catch him too. If Backline Music Hall has a show on the calendar, take the ride. Find the economical route if you have to.
Support local music and venues.
Afterglow
The drive home from Backline always has a little extra music in it. Maybe it is just the songs still knocking around in my head. Maybe it is the stretch of road between Tupelo and home starting to feel like part of the ritual. Either way, June ended with fingerpicked folk-n-roll, Birmingham stories and another reminder that some of the best nights are not always the loudest ones on the calendar.
Sometimes they are the ones tucked into a small room, carried by fast fingers, old stories and a few people who knew enough to show up.
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