Plasticine Porter : Boulder Highway
This we call a Banjo Concept Album: The year was 1899. The South was still recovering from the devastation brought on a little more than 3 decades earlier. Cousin versus cousin, brother versus sister. The war among the States wrought havoc and disruption like a polecat in heat trapped in an abandoned barbeque pit situated in the very midst of a Sunday church picnic of snake-charming, tongue-speaking good folks on acid. T'was a f***ed up mess. The daughter of a prison warden in Murphreesboro was out one sunny morning picking wildflowers and wandering just a little too far from the family farm when she came across a smoky, stenchy patch of burnt sienna. The girl, a certain Sarah Belle M., was struck deaf and dumb temporarily by bright lights and the noise of a dozen steam train locomotives... but folks, that wasn't no train. Sarah was 14 miles from the closest railroad tracks. It was a visitor from the great sky above. An artificial vision with artificial memories brought forth by an abduction of that warden's little girl. Sarah somehow made it home with the notion that she was going to meet a man in the big city who one day would be her husband. That's all she spoke of for weeks until her grandmother came by for a visit and slapped that nonsense right out of Sarah's mouth. Though she kept silent about her newfound knowledge, she kept right on believing that there was so much more in store for Sarah's future. Fast forward a decade: Sarah leaves home with the suggested intention of going to school to become a nurse, but that girl knew that there would be no college in her cards. She was set out to fulfill her premonition. Sarah knew there was someone she hadn't met, not yet. When Route 66 opened, the Wild, Weird West was finally impregnable. Sarah hit it. She hit it hard. Hoover Dam had just been completed a few weeks prior to her journey. With a short scenic route out of Kingman she never finished her trip. She found Las Vegas.