He comes from a background of playing in rock bands. Sometimes armed with a pen and paper. Sometimes shielded behind his trusty dobro. R.C. Henry tells tales of sadness and addiction shrouded in a smoke curtain of nostalia. Tongue in cheek humor and self-mockery make his music a sideways swipe at entertainment. R.C. Henry's music straddles the border between the empty roads and the ghost town, trudges the wet pavement of the big city and fouls the air with the stench of disillusionment. It's not a bad thing if you laugh, as long as you understand that you can also cry.