Poet from Chicago, rambled out to Montana, cut a banjo from a tamarack, strings across the country, foot like a freight train, voice rushing down over lush Appalachia, sings a thrush tune through the rush hour and into your long-forgotten prairie dreams.

Folk. Folk Rock. Americana.

Old Sap owns a “cowboy-sweet timber that rambles through his songs [and a] physical charisma that make his performances so engaging.”

“a range of musical expression that wanders between musings about nature’s cyclic harmony and the love and anguish inherent to the human condition.”

—Flathead Beacon

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We will be hosting a potluck dinner this evening. Please bring a non-disposable place setting and a covered dish. If you don’t have food to bring for any reason, we are happy to feed you. We are a pack it in, pack it out public house and ask you take everything you bring in, out with you. Many thanks.