The first time we saw Adam Carroll, he was an unknown opening for one of the rowdiest, loudest bands on the scene at that time, Mark David Manders's group at Austin's La Zona Rosa. When Carroll walked onstage with nothing but a cigarette and an acoustic guitar, we thought, "This guy doesn't stand a chance in here with this crowd." Yet two songs into his set, Carroll had won them all over, and the place quieted down to hear his quirky, earthy lyrics about Louisiana rice farms, drunken shrimpers, barroom brawls and beaten-down women of the night.... More >>>