“With just himself and Chris Bartos, Jonathan Byrd has crafted a potent canvas as searing as Neil Young's stripped down masterpieces but with a touch of the laid back Eagles and the timbre one hears in the more haunting runs of a Chris Darrow or Ry Cooder.”
Mark S. Tucker // Folk & Acoustic Music Exchange
WELCOME TO JONATHANBYRD.COM
On Friday the 13th, November 1970, I was born at the Cape Fear Valley Hospital in Fayetteville, North Carolina, probably the biggest military town in the country. Fort Bragg alone covers 250 square miles, and the used car dealerships and titty bars are like stars in the sky, grains of sand on the beach. The ground is sandy and the woods are open and piney, with tall loblollies, jack oaks, and the longleaf pine.
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News & Updates
Gute Fahrt
This morning, I woke up to Alpakawurst and a perfect cup of Italian-engineered coffee. Alpakawurst is exactly what it sounds like and I’ll explain how I got it later. Two nights ago, I arrived in Basel at 23:55, where my host Stephen greeted me on the platform. He was waving his arms and shouting to me, but really, there was not a soul besides the two of us and the employees of the velobox (bicycle rentals) downstairs. I wondered if it’s possible that someone would rent a bicycle at midnight when it’s 15 below zero. If so, I would like... more…
Connected To Everyone
I don’t know if I’m on the right train. I know that I am still in the Netherlands somewhere, but I don’t know where. I look everywhere for information that matches any number or letter than I have on my schedule, and there are many numbers and letters, but no matches. Several people enter and exit the bathroom in front of me. To my right, there is a couple in love, making moonie eyes at each other and listening to one earbud each of an iPod. Someone gets off and, before I can move, the drunkest teenager of all slides... more…
Tobias
6. Tobias My suitcase made it but I almost left it behind. I got off the bus at the station in den Bosch, like everyone. I looked for someone who might be going to Frankfurt, so that I could have a German-speaking ally there and I chose wisely. I chose him because of his glasses and jacket. Don’t ask me how. There’s a look. But as I walked beside him, almost to the entrance, I realized there was 69 pounds missing. I wheeled and trotted back to the bus, where the driver was keeping one hand on the suitcase. Somehow,... more…
