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Ric Robertson crafts the kind of music that doesn’t beg for your attention — it quietly earns it, one note, one image, one breath at a time. A singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and visual artist, he’s simply trying to make sense of the absurd beauty of being alive. These days, he’s often traveling solo, carving out his own orbit while hauling a real piano from town to town — a heavy, creaky companion that makes every show unpredictable and deeply alive. No playback, no safety net, just songs, stories, and a whole-hearted belief that the good stuff doesn’t need a middleman. Raised mostly in the American South but never easy to pin down, his sound drifts between timeless folk wisdom and psychedelic backroom vaudeville — a strange, beautiful blend that turns detours into truths and heartbreak, hilarity, and hallucination into something you can hum along to. He’s shared his musical curiosity in collaborations with artists like Lucius, The Wood Brothers, and Sierra Ferrell, but it’s in his solo work that his vision shines. His latest album, Choices and Chains, is a crooked little odyssey of transformation, following the technicolor psych-Americana of Carolina Child. Accidentally radical and fiercely human, you may find Robertson somewhere past the edge of the map — alone onstage with his upright piano, a spellbound crowd, and music that cuts through the noise to remind you why any of this matters at all.

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5,494

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2,639

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