No stranger to the Brickyard, the Jimmy Warner Band returns tonight to headline June’s Final Friday event in Mansfield. Last year, Warner roamed the brickyard with a Go Pro camera attached to his guitar while his band continued to jam in the background. Video courtesy of Downtown Mansfield, Inc. is below.
Even if he doesn’t pull off a similar stunt this year, the band’s bluesy rock will be memorable and fun. Learn more about their sound and their history in this Mid Ohio Rock Show interview with Tommy Barnes, also recorded last year in the Brickyard.
Blending Tex mex, swing and southern rock, Gringo Stew mixes of all types of bar room and honky tonk music for northern Ohio crowds. Their bio includes a dash of this and a little of that – plus experience playing around Boston, Nashville, Austin and other cities of musical renown.
You can hear them on June 30 at Mansfield’s final Friday show in the brickyard, or check them out in the video below.
From an alley, Mansfield, Ohio
I visited New York City last weekend and spent enough hours wandering through the boroughs that I began to compare it to our town. We are not New York and we know this. We are not New York and are yet happy for that. We are not New York, we are Mansfield, Ohio, and we are creating.
There are parts of New York City where each breath I drew was art. It was not merely a painted canvas, a vibrating string, or an astute analogy, but a sense of ecstatic freshness. The world as I knew it was new again, shimmering. I could feel my own creativity roiling just beneath the surface of my composure, and my mind, surprised with new agility. In the presence of others’ imaginations, mine ran giddy and wild. And the people standing around me, they were ready to experience everything I had to give, absorb my offerings and further the cycle of ideas.
In Mansfield, we artists breathe rust. We breathe poverty and establishment and someone else’s idea of what our town should be. When we experience the moment of collaborative elation, we have worked damn hard to get there. We work in factories and gas stations and chain retail stores where we lock our art in the break room and keep it to ourselves until we clock out. Art is not an employer, but not a hobby either — it is an unstoppable drive we have, the one that reminds us we’re alive, the one we must have to stay alive. Continue reading