Suburban Country. I spent 3 days in Waco, Texas once, and 2 days in Nashville. That’s not very long. I don’t ride horses, actually prefer waves, and don’t have a current cowboy hat. But I have lived a good portion of my life in a 1960’s built suburb with an elementary school and a Presbyterian church down the street. When I couldn’t get enough of the Beatles, my dad was feeling the same way about Merle Haggard, Earl Scruggs, Chet Atkins, and Willie. Now, I appreciate even more the craftsmanship of a Beatles song, but it’s the lyrical integrity of Guy Clark and the guitar statements of Warren Haynes that move me the most. Growing up in Jacksonville, Florida, I was weaned on what came to be known as Southern Rock. Though that name hadn’t been penned yet, I danced at the local teen club to Ronnie Vansant’s pre-SKYNRD blues. Dickie Betts played cover songs under the black lights down the street, while Duane and Greg Alman set up their amps on the radio station lawn just to have a place to play. All of that seeps in, and over time, some of it finds it’s way back out. My earliest country songs were written in southern Maine. I believe if you have an eye on the road, another eye on God, and your tongue in your cheek, it’s likely to come out country. And that can happen on the coast of Maine or the coast of Florida. It’s as much a state of mind as a state in the Union. My dad, Ken Sr., was the most honest, likable, and unpretentious man I’ve ever known. I’d like my music to be just like him…honest, likable, and unpretentious. That’s my goal. That’s what I shoot for. I call it Southern Suburban Country. With Eyes Wide Open, Ken Holt