The Revival Tour
Chuck Ragan 
Ben Nichols
Tim Barry
Fri. Sept. 26
8 p.m.
$14, $12/adv.
Music Farm
32 Ann St.
(843) 853-3276
www.musicfarm.com
There are sounds that bind us to the South: the chirp of crickets, the whisper of a cool breeze, the gentle drawl in our voices — the music of the front porch. Our musical heritage is shaped by gospel hymns and field hollers, vaudeville ragtime and the blues of the Mississippi Delta and the Carolina Piedmont, down-home country and string-band folk. The rusty strings of acoustic guitars, banjos, and fiddles tie us to the red-clay earth. No matter how we change over time, the South remains.
So it’s almost a no-brainer to see The Revival Tour put rubber to asphalt, trekking cross-country — and to the Music Farm on Friday — bringing front men of three respected Southern punk bands and their acoustic guitars together. Outside of the regional commonality, Chuck Ragan of Gainesville, Fla.’s Hot Water Music, Ben Nichols of Memphis, Tenn.’s Lucero, and Tim Barry of the Richmond, Va.-based Avail share a level of attention to the craft of songwriting born of something apart from punk’s bare-knuckle approach. When the set-up strips down to wood, strings, and a well-worn voice, songs adopt a new identity, and lyrics start to walk a thin line.
Each night of the tour features a set of music preformed by each songwriter, accompanied by a rotation of back-up musicians (the Charleston show features Austin Lucas of Guided Cradle). The evenings end with collaborative sets of music performed by all three.
Ragan recently released his solo debut titled Feast or Famine. He’s already involved in production on his next album for SideOneDummy Records. Barry is playing in support of his own folk-rock album, Rivanna Junction. Nichols signed on after this spring’s SXSW music festival in Austin, Texas, after a drinking session with Ragan and Barry.
Ragan, in the role of the redeemer, turns his songs into rally cries for hope in the face of pain. Nichols, as the trio’s storyteller, lets downtrodden characters look for love. He sometimes helps them find it. Barry, the outlaw of the bunch, romanticizes a hard-livin’, hard-drinkin’ life on the outskirts of society, questioning if tomorrow’s gonna come. And when the three sing together — as they’ve been doing this tour — for “Wash My Feet in the Waves,” there’s a hymn-like quality in their trudging strums and salted harmonies.
If those sound like country tropes, it’s because they are. But they’re just as at home in punk rock. Both camps look hardship in the face and still cling to hope. They respect honesty, authenticity, and their roots. They search for, and often find, some kind of truth. And if The Revival Tour succeeds, it’ll only be more clear that the roots of southern music aren’t all that far removed from punk — like the rebellious kid finding out his old man ain’t so bad after all.
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