Cord Lund & Gregg Shaddix

February 6th
MUSIC  starts at 8
Tickets $12

“Troubadours one from the North and one from the South meet at an Olde Bar!”
{Sounds like lyrics}

Goth girls to survivalists, bovines to bibles, antique pistols to vintage motorcycles: Alberta-born honky-tonker Corb Lund’s songcraft covers it all.

From a rustic retreat deep in the Rocky Mountain forest, Cabin Fever, Lund’s enthralling new album, evolved from a period of introspection and hard traveling. Just like the prolific Lund’s subjects run the gamut, so do the sonics on the live-sounding long-player, ranging from rockabilly to Western swing, cowboy balladry to country-rock. And, of course, the occasional yodel…

Cabin Fever follows on the boot heels of Lund’s 2009 New West debut, the critically acclaimed Losin’ Lately Gambler, his sixth album. Backed by his longtime band, The Hurtin’ Albertans, the JUNO Award recipient has won kudos in his native land; the Canadian Country Music Association has named Lund Roots Artist of the Year 7 consecutive years from 2004 – 2010.

For this outing, Lund hunkered down in the remote cabin he built with his girlfriend and former bronc rider/favorite uncle Lynn Jensen, an hour outside Edmonton. After the hand-crafted spruce and poplar building was finished, Lund’s thirteen-year relationship crumbled and his uncle passed away. Woodshedding – literally – came next: “I ended up spending time up there alone for weeks at a time, in the winter, with three feet of snow,” says Lund. “Cabin fever is what they call it when you get a little nuts from being isolated…”

With a dozen ass-kicking songs under his belt, Corb plans to take the show on the road, just as he’s done for the past two decades; he cut his teeth in the ‘90s as a member of Canadian speed-metal band, the Smalls. The DIY spirit lives with Lund, who traded his ax for an acoustic and has done everything from printing his band’s T-shirts to booking gigs to writing press releases. Though it may look like a quartet onstage, the Hurtin’ Albertans are really “a seven-piece band,” according to Lund, “because Grant plays a bunch of stuff,” including mandolin, banjo, Dobro, and baritone guitar. “Grant and I have a complex system of hand signals because I don’t use a set list,” says Lund. “We’ve got seven records’ worth of material now, so every show is different. I find it more interesting that way.”

Just as Lund mixes up styles on his recordings and the types of venues he plays, a special edition of Cabin Fever will feature an extra disc with an acoustic version of the tracks. “The electric one’s done live, but the acoustic one’s even more live,” says Lund. “We were all sitting right beside each other and are in each other’s mikes. We kept it as unpolished as possible.”

Listening to the acoustic disc’s banjo, guitar, and handclaps, as well as Lund’s Western-inspired songwriting, one can’t help but think the pared-down approach is yet another aspect of the Lund family tradition: After all, Lund learned to sing as a nipper when his grandfather taught him the campfire standard “Strawberry Roan,” which Grandpa Lund picked up via oral tradition from fellow trailhands. “I’ve got one foot in old-fashioned cowboy music,” says Lund, “but I treat it with some abandon and irreverence. The reality is we don’t live in that world anymore – yet the cowboys were kind of punk rockers in their day.”

As for Corb Lund, his Western heritage stays with him, no matter where he roams.“My whole life is sort of a dichotomy between being a cowboy kid and living in a city,”says Lund. “I guess that informs my music too.” On Cabin Fever, that split personality burns bright.


Greg Shaddix being the oldest son of a Southern Baptist preacher and a southern belle from Georgia may not seem like the ideal beginning for a troubadour, but not everything is as is it seems….Old oak wooden church pews reverberate with red letter readings out of a King James Bible, it’s time to be on my best behavior. Not only is this church, the man behind the pulpit is my father.

The sermon seems to go on for hours, and as a little boy all I wanted to do was be outside pretending to be Joe Namath, not listening to what seemed like another lecture from my dad. The only thing that brought any ease to this misery was that when I heard the music start to play I knew it was almost over.

Little did I know back then, when I heard the music and thought it was over…..Really it was only beginning.Just like when I felt Southern Gospel music and my daddy’s voice vibrate through those old oak pews, another piece of wood had a similar but much more substantial impact on my life, a Martin guitar.

Through out the years, that old Martin and I have seen many miles since we first met. We have played on a boat in the Florida Keys; it has been tied to a packhorse in the New Mexico mountains. It has seen a marriage, and a divorce. Survived cold Ohio winters and cold-hearted women.
Yes this bio seems to be more about my guitar than about me, but really, we are one in the same. Telling my story though lines written about real life. Not all fact, not all fiction. The songs I want to play for you.

Smiths Olde Bar
1578 Piedmont Road