Saw you in Ipswich, England a year or so back (Manor Ballroom) - a great gig. Can't get to the Norwich/London ones this time round but heard rumours you might be in Ipswich (New Wolsey) in the New Year - is this true as this would make up for the disappointment of missing the Norwich/London gigs this year?  

I love your music, am into string band. I came to your website to purchase a cd, but way too much personal info required.  Guess I'll try amazon.  Amazing tunes, I especially enjoy the traditionals like Liza Jane.  Thanks for the music!

Thanks for making the trek to Garden City last weekend!  Sure enjoyed it!

Thanks, folks, for gracing us with that sweet 3-day residency at the Amnesia in SF.  Never thought I'd see such hot pickin' in such a cool small venue, and I loved every second of it.  I'm beginning to think that Hot Club is a bit of an understatement--maybe Scorch Club or Scaldingly Volcanic Club is closer to what it felt like at Amnesia the two nights I made it on over! 

I'm 61 and feel like an idiot. I bought "Best of Hot Club of Cowtown" with no idea of what it might sound like. It looked interesting. I can't stop listening to it. Of course I'm going to play a bunch of it on my fiddle. It has to be the most captivating music I've heard in my life. If you ever come up this way, I'll be there! (Southern Ontario, Canada) You really are incredible musicians and I just love the way you sing, Elana. Every single syllable is perfectly clear and your pitch is deadly accurate. You are positively sickening with that fiddle. The energy and control have to be heard to be believed. Regards, Tom Durrant. I think that maybe all of you take your instruments to bed with you.

I missed you at the Blue Plate Special in Knoxville...drove to Chattanooga and was blown away.  Please keep East Tennessee in your schedule.  John

It was indescribably hot and dry. I dragged my 5th generation Texian bones into the shelter of the Gruene Hall shade and held the screen door open for the love of my life. She straggled in. All we needed was that little cool spot that everybody looks for on that kind of day...shade, a breeze, a cool drink of water. I stepped up to the bar, "Shiner Bock," I muttered through a parched throat. Throwing my glance back and left, "Shiner?" I asked Carol. "Two Shiners," I managed to get out just before unconsciousness could tighten its grip.

We nursed our Shiners a bit and scuffled into the hall, sneaker toes catching on the scalloped floor boards, a 'scuse me here and there. Whence appeared, setting up shop on our left, the Hot Club of Cowtown, not 10 feet away as I recall. We swiveled back and forth and discovered we weren't blocking anybody's view, so we hitched-up there, leaning on each other, weary from the heat and woozy from the treat of finding such a perfect musical interlude. Sound checks in order, levels set, they began to play.

The melodious transition from Summer-in-Texas to Heaven-in-a-Dance Hall was as smooth and sweet and sticky as a Hershey bar on the dashboard. A few minutes into the set, someone (There's always some "one.") called out for "Orange Blossom Special." Not being a fiddle player myself, I figured, "It's an old standard...probably the only one they knew to holler...we'll just wait it out and they'll get back to more serious play after that tune." 

Whit and Jake (who'd recently joined Hot Club as I think) set a nice base for Elana's technical skills on the fiddle as she approached the first of the obligatory crescendos. By the time she'd hit the real heat of the run, "snap!", the neck of her fiddle broke off at the body. There we were, 10 feet away, as I recall. Jake and Whit were oblivious for only a few seconds, but never missed a beat. They kept the rhythm going as if Elana had merely reached for a sip of her drink, while Elana stepped up to her vocal mike, just as cool and confident and completely unruffled as if it were part of the act, and asked, "Would anyone in the house happen to have a fiddle I could borrow?" Four people, FOUR PEOPLE, approached her and offered their instruments, not 10 feet away from us as I recall. She chose one, removed her pickup from her dead fiddle and fitted it to the loaner, then bowed   back and to her right to tune it. Elana then stepped up to her spot and resumed play, in tune, on the beat, and without the slightest hint of anything out-of-the-ordinary going on. The house roared.