Mercy, this is good. Chris Stapleton, a Kentucky-born son of a coal miner, has spent the past couple of decades dividing his time between an excellent bluegrass band called the Steeldrivers and a healthy career writing songs for people like Adele, George Strait and Darius Rucker. In a genre full of great songwriters, Stapleton has stood apart. Like Guy Clark or John Hiatt, he is a master craftsman: Stapleton can turn a phrase on a dime, build a narrative out of a few evocative lines and bleed hot blood all over the page.
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