Robert Morast

2 months ago | modbee.com | Robert Morast

Sturgill Simpson didn't need us during his performance at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. The great ones rarely do. Miles Davis. Jack White. Willie Nelson. Their concerts are often free from the performative displays of expectation and scripted surprise. They play for the muse. For themselves. For the music. The crowd is simply an excuse to conjure some familiar magic. Simpson is the same. He'd play to an empty room. Eyes closed.

2 months ago | sfchronicle.com | Robert Morast

Sturgill Simpson performing live at the Great Theatre in Berkeley on Thursday, April 24. Robert Morast / The ChronicleSturgill Simpson didn’t need us during his performance at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. The great ones rarely do. Miles Davis. Jack White. Willie Nelson. Their concerts are often free from the performative displays of expectation and scripted surprise. They play for the muse. For themselves. For the music. The crowd is simply an excuse to conjure some familiar magic. Simpson is the same.

Sep 25, 2024 | sfchronicle.com | Robert Morast

San Francisco Chronicle LogoHearst Newspapers LogoThere’s been a lot of talk about whether or not Kacey Musgraves’ music is country, or pop. Blame the tired dialogue on the Grammys, who can’t seem to remember how they classify her songs — sometimes giving her country awards, sometimes pushing her into pop categories. The Grammys have a long history of being confused.

Sep 13, 2024 | sfchronicle.com | Robert Morast

When John King was appointed by the Chronicle to cover San Francisco’s changing skyline he had a stipulation: Don’t call him the architecture critic. This was in 2001, almost a decade after the Chronicle’s Pulitzer Prize-winning critic Allan Temko had retired from analyzing the city’s various buildings and structures. King didn’t want to be Temko’s sequel. He had his own ideals to apply to the position, starting with his official title.

Jun 1, 2024 | sfchronicle.com | Robert Morast

=It was famously said that, at the peak of its powers, the British punk act the Clash was the only band that mattered. Others have co-opted the title since then. But it’s time to borrow that phrase of blinding poignancy once again: Zach Bryan is the only country musician that matters. We can dance to Shaboozey’s hip-hop inflected country and Post Malone’s jukebox nostalgia. We can debate the genre legitimacy of Beyoncé while shaking it to her country collage.