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  • Riverfront Times

    The Pope of Pork

    Old-school hog farming makes a comeback, thanks to some fine swine from Frankenstein.

    By Kristen Hinman

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    The Lost Season

    Here's how you become one of those people who screams at his kid's coach.

    By Bob Norman

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    Border Crossers

    Transgender hookers with rap sheets are successfully fighting deportation--by asking for asylum.

    By Lauren Smiley

  • Houston Press

    Deadly Evidence

    First, Houston's DNA lab became a laughingstock. Then its controversial director was murdered.

    By Randall Patterson

Jon Jackson

By Dustin Allen

Published on August 07, 2008 at 3:41am

Nashville may be chock full of singer-songwriters strumming their way through 10-minute sets at open mic free-for-alls, but Jon Jackson is one well worth cherry-picking from the crowd of acoustic guitar slingers. Unsigned and gigging his way through Music City's cheap seats with a steel-toed, bootstrap wit—while up for a seat in the District 5 State House—Jackson's mischievous brand of country folk epitomizes the sound of a bedroom artist slogging through countless late nights of broken picks and longneck-induced noodlings. But listening to his out-of-pocket debut Green Apples, one hardly gets the impression they're hearing bathroom demos or Pro Tools prop-ups. Backed by steel-and-string guru Vee Maurice and a sturdy round of friends, Green Apples may have cost half a year's wages, but every dollar is put to good use.
Sat., Aug. 9, 8 p.m., 2008


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