Tag: bluegrass zodiac

Singer: You’ll find a silver lining at the new moon knowing you can now go back to simpler times being judged on looks, which is so much less complicated than creating quality art.

Guitar: Uncertainties abound, but rest assured, you'll forever have to argue against gate checking your guitar.

Ukulele: All types of people are coming out of the woodwork these days, but no one wants to form a Don Ho cover band with you yet.

Pedal Steel: Political unrest is fertile ground for creativity so, as the stars see it, dictatorship will mean endless shitty U2 covers.

Banjo: Next week you’ll feel bad about missing your friend’s gig, but you will console yourself by spending an hour clicking “interested” on a lot of social justice events in your area.

Fiddle: Don't get carried away with the "get over it" attitude going around. We must continue to hate Yoko Ono for no reason.

Bass: The stars continue to advise against posting your college reggae band cover of "Get Up Stand Up" and repeat their position that no political tragedy merits the release of that video.

Accordion: Try to balance your excitement for the post-election uptick in sad songs seeking squeezebox solos with your self-loathing for cashing in on impeding doom.

Dobro: Go ahead and make your band’s website news section all fake hyperbolic stories. Nobody cares anymore.

Mandolin: You will feel disoriented next month when your Daytrotter sketch even remotely resembles you.

Drums: Finding answers to untimely deaths can be hard, but you don’t need the moon and stars to tell you why Prince and Bowie peaced out early.

Harmonica: Pro tip: Have a few songs up your sleeve about steaks, buildings, and bikinis in case you are summoned without warning.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Singer: Even with the World Series and the Standing Rock controversy, it’s still not okaty to wear a headdress and your homemade “Sioux-per Road Warrior” t-shirt on stage.

Guitar: The stars see what you’re trying to do there, but refusing to concede victory at the Telluride Troubadour Contest won’t win the respect you’re desperately seeking from your father.

Ukulele: Be patient until the moon begins to wane; until then, you will not know whether your newfound love of Prairie Home Companion is because of Chris Thile or because you’re officially old.

Pedal Steel: The fourth Thursday of the month, expect big shocks from Uranus that will trigger a radical transformation in your future health decisions.

Banjo: It’s not that it’s the wrong time to start your #AllInstrumentsMatter campaign; it’s just that your instrument is still the banjo.

Fiddle: The new moon in Scorpio seeks what is real and refrains from anything that is lacking substance, which is the astral equivalent of mainstream country radio.

Bass: This tour, remember Newton’s third law of merch: For every normal fan purchase, there is an equal and opposite creeper who believes he bought the right to invade your personal space.

Accordion: Welp, this was not your breakout year. Again. Sorry about that, mate. Chin up, yeah?

Dobro: Your mediocre stoner idea of a '90s emo-pop dance mash-up band called “Goo Goo Gaga” will be a surprise hit on mommy blogs this holiday season.

Mandolin: Yes, you will again think of the perfect Halloween costume next week; and no, there’s nothing the stars can do to keep this from happening every year.

Drums: If you think your life is confusing, just be glad you’re not post-makeup Alicia Keys at her first Halloween party.

Harmonica: Sunday’s new moon brings the spirit of a childlike trickster, which will prove useful to the Nobel Committee in finding creative ways to get hold of Bob Dylan.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Singer: You will find you have over-prepared to host the IBMA panel on digital marketing when audience questions are mostly about their AOL dial-up connections. 

Guitar: Despite their name, you will always be able to find the Milk Carton Kids at the Americana Music Awards show.

Ukulele: Using any excuse not to pick out china for the White House, Bill Clinton will offer to join your band’s horn section for your Winter tour.

Pedal Steel: For the sake of van harmony, Uranus urges you not to order a second Volcano Burrito at Taco Bell this time. 

Banjo: Jupiter enters Libra this month, giving your boyfriend another reason to stare blankly at you while you earnestly explain what that means.

Fiddle: Your carefully crafted tweet about your band “tearing through ACL” this weekend in Austin will only get retweeted once … by your mom. 

Bass: There are two new moons this month, but, hey girl, ain’t nothin gonna cramp your style. 

Accordion: Now that Mercury is out of retrograde, don’t forget to switch back to blaming your booking agent for all your touring mishaps.

Dobro: Carbon emissions have reached a record high, so it’s as good a time as any to trade in the band van for a fuel-efficient clown car. 

Mandolin: On a Bluegrass Underground tour of Cumberland Caverns this month, you will be shown the pit where the staff tosses the Gs from every computer keyboard that passes through.

Drums: Using strays for your house band the Nashville Cats was a great idea for your YouTube channel, but the stars warn that taking them on the road will be a veritable catastrophe.

Harmonica: No matter how many times you email him, Dave doesn't want to produce a compilation album called Cobb Salad with you.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Singer: It may be weird later, but the stars agree: Naming your new Fall record Donald Trump Twitter is a solid online marketing strategy for search results.

Guitar: All your favorite bands will stay together, but in separate hotels and only for the reunion tour cash out.

Ukulele: Fear not, for the moon phases will return next festival season and you will have a chance to peak on molly when you’re not vomiting in an RV shower.

Pedal Steel: The planets apologize that the posthumous rock star story you are waiting to brag about on social media centers around the immortal Keith Richards.

Banjo: Your GoFundMe campaign to learn a different instrument will be surprisingly successful.

Fiddle: Pressing vinyl will be great someday, but start small by ensuring your card doesn’t bounce when you add avocado.

Bass: From your window seat, try not to read too much into watching your upright fall off the plane’s conveyor belt and hit the ground hard.

Accordion: Taxidermy is hot right now and staying stylish is important, so stick it out in that bear suit for a few more weeks of Summer.

Dobro: Strict self-discipline will come from Uranus as you depart on a three-month bus tour.

Mandolin: Thanks to a quick band name change to Venusaur in Furs, attendance on your next run of dates will skyrocket.

Drums: The new moon in Leo will deepen commitment to the self, so go ahead and use 10 minutes at the next gig for an avant-garde solo.

Harmonica: Figuring out how the showers work on your own at a string of five house concerts will be a personal best for you this month.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Guitar: The stars apologize for Earth’s lukewarm reaction to your solo acoustic rendition of Hamilton.

Singer: Frustrated by audiences at open mics not hearing your transcendent lyrics, this month you will be inspired to form the first screamo folk band. 

Banjo: During the waxing moon, you’ll celebrate your new publishing deal without realizing it’s basically the same setup as the internship you got right out of college.

Fiddle: Next week you’ll make yourself feel better about taking a gig for the exposure by obliterating the shrimp cocktail tray on your way out.

Dobro: Instagramming yourself with local craft whiskies will bring you all the likes that are missing from your band page.

Drums: Some club promoters are organized, on time, and don’t cheat you out of money. But none that you’ll meet in your lifetime.

Pedal Steel: The stars advise against using the “Let go and let God” mantra to handle your monthly email newsletters.

Bass: You will find fortune this month when the bank agrees to refund one of your overdraft charges.

Ukulele: Since you didn’t learn from the last tour, your travel lust will land you right back at the clinic when you get home.

Accordion: Wearing a thong the day of the show will help you get into that “comfortable being uncomfortable” feeling before going on stage.

Harmonica: Take heart knowing that, even though you’re only playing on one song tonight, you get to sleep in the barn loft just like everyone else.

Mandolin: Don’t blame the planets for failing to mention you have to be a hairy mess wearing a vest over a t-shirt for anyone to take your music seriously.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Banjo: Paradox abounds this month when stepping back from your free, late-night banjo solo shows in the courtyard results in your neighbors talking to you again.

Mandolin: The new moon in Gemini will give you the false sense that the ambitious half of your brain will rear its sleepy head and do literally anything to improve your current train wreck of a life.

Bass: You’ll find it easier to purge and cleanse your soul this week after you stumble home drunk and eat some questionable leftovers.

Fiddle: Your quest for total internal and external freedom from responsibility this month will result in the tragic demise of your roommate’s cat.

Ukulele: If your Summer festival vendor sales are any indication of the general public’s reaction to your artisan instruments, you might as well go ahead and fill those boxes back up with cigars.

Guitar: Re-evaluate your plans to go electric. You still need to get a few more gigs before you can afford to get it turned back on.

Dobro: The stars advise you that, even though it’s almost summertime, there is never a justifiable reason to wear Chacos on stage.

Drummer: The transcendent universal energy that inspires you to give away all the band comps to a bachelorette party that never shows up will be just one of many unwanted side effects of this month’s meth bender.

Accordion: Relying on your intuition will prove fruitful this week when you correctly identify a gelatinous blob in your van seat as three melted grape Gushers from the band’s stoner candy binge last week.

Singer: During the full moon, you’ll realize it’s festival season, frantically send emails to organizers, receive replies explaining that they book years in advance, and return to crying alone in your room.

Pedal Steel: When your high school invites you to give a talk next month as the featured musician, you’ll graciously accept without knowing you were selected for the “Poor Life Choices” segment.

Harmonica: The stars don’t care how light your instrument is, you still have to help the band unload the rest of the gear.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Dobro: A carnal fantasy will come true next week; unfortunately, it’s with an old clown behind the ring toss game because the gods thought you meant carnival.

Bass: This Thursday, no one will understand why you show up to the party with five jars of mayonnaise.

Guitar: You will develop a violent allergy to banjo solos this month, so keep an Epiphone on you at all times.

Singer: Going out for 2-4-1 rail drinks at your local bar this weekend isn’t what the cosmos had in mind when you wanted to celebrate a pub deal.

Drums: You’ll burst into tears when your neighbors tell you they cut back your weeds because that’s what your girlfriend made you do last month.

Mandolin: Resolve this month to keep following your dreams even it if means you don’t get out of bed until dinnertime.

Fiddle: Take heart in knowing it’s not how much you practice the fiddle; it’s knowing you’re just never going to be any good at it.

Ukulele: The stars advise you not to give up after you find out how exhausting and expensive it is to look like a hobo onstage.

Banjo: After three days of baking in the festival sun, trading your Silvertone for a full bottle of Coppertone doesn’t seem like a terrible deal at all.

Pedal Steel: When asked about your new look, tell the rest of the band a coonskin cap isn’t a fashion accessory; it’s a piece of Americana.

Harmonica: Go ahead and tell yourself that Mercury Retrograde won’t affect that 25-date tour you’re advancing right now. The cosmic trickster is definitely not pointing and laughing.

Accordion: While other bands are boycotting North Carolina venues, now is a great time to pitch your 90-minute solo polka set.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Singer: Someday your “Southern glass harp” solo will be a huge hit at your neighbor’s annual pickin' party, so keep splashing your way into the middle of that circle with your folding table and memaw’s spittoon collection.

Bass: Gear up for festival season by eating wild mushrooms from your yard and discreetly vomiting into anything within arm’s reach.

Banjo: Clouds will obscure the moon this weekend when the forecast calls for April showers, you dirty hippie.

Dobro: You will be invited to Sundance to showcase the hours of captivating cell phone videos you captured at concerts last year.

Accordion: Unfortunately, most fans will never see the band video you posted on Facebook; fortunately, they also won’t see you drinking alone.

Guitar: You will find a way to navigate through the tricky terrain of saying no to anyone who wants to borrow your capo during the entire tour.

Fiddle: The haunting energy you are experiencing this month is the tote full of merch you forgot at the venue two nights ago which is now screaming from inside a dumpster set on fire by a hobo.

Harmonica: Jupiter in your sector of equality this month will bring satisfaction knowing that every time you roll a joint, a douchebag loses their vape pen.

Mandolin: Next month, you will humble brag about the high critical acclaim and 10/10 review of your next record by relying on the population’s general laziness not to trace the source to your retired dad’s Tumblr page.

Ukulele: Use April Fools' Day to meditate on what you thought you’d be doing with your college education.

Drummer: Fend off skeptics who say you can’t make records and feed your family anymore by getting a back-alley vasectomy under the full moon light.

Pedal Steel: Most musicians are kind and gentle souls. Avoid the stereotype by employing abrasive Drumpf-style yelling at every turn.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Accordion: Being told by the stars that fortune is upon you is encouraging, until you realize they’re composed entirely of hot air.

Harmonica: You cannot control the past, the future, or the current wave of dopamine you’re riding all the way to the bottom of this bag of Pirate’s Booty.

Dobro: This is the time for change. Like, right now. Welp, you missed it.

Mandolin: On Wednesday, Venus in Aquarius sextiles Uranus in Aries, so you’d better start trying to figure out what that means.

Banjo: Banjo players are a dime a dozen, but take heart knowing the stars believe, on a good night, you’re worth a little more than that.

Bass: It’s not true that you’re lazy; it’s just that you accomplish so much less than anyone else around you given the same amount of time and resources.

Fiddle: Just because you haven’t sobered up since last St. Patrick’s Day doesn’t mean you get to wake up in a pool of your own vomit without putting some work into it.

Ukulele: You’re good. For now.

Pedal Steel: They say music is food for the soul, so stay home this month and tell the greedy bastards you’ve got enough mouths to feed.

Guitar: All your hard work will pay off this month when you receive multiple responses from festivals agreeing to book your band this season. Just kidding. No one cares.

Singer: For fear of death, avoid reading horoscopes the day after Leap Day.

Drummer: Since the dawn of time, no one has made as many miniscule OCD adjustments to the drum kit as you will during next week’s sound check.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Banjo: Near the end of the month, your wife will find your suggestion to build a love nest very romantic … until she finds the eviction notice on your apartment door.

Accordion: Misery loves company, which is why you won’t even consider filing divorce papers until you have one last expensive and insufferable Valentine’s Day dinner.

Mandolin: The stars advise you to test how cool your girlfriend really is by taking that tips-only gig on the 14th.

Dobro: Your surprise romantic picnic will be spoiled when you find out your Tinder date is allergic to pretty much everything — including pollen and poverty.

Harmonica: When a meteor shower passes through the shadow of Uranus, you'll wonder if you should have gone on that second Krystal run last night.

Fiddle: There will be cosmic confusion when your jelly donut turns out to be full of that yellow custard stuff, but you’ll decide, "Whatever; it’s still a donut."

Pedal Steel: Go ahead and talk loudly about your love muscle at the gym this week; your crush will be listening.

Bass: After the new moon, a night in jail will teach you that "love it and leave it" does not apply to department store mannequins.

Guitar: Love at first sight is not an excuse to outbid everyone else on Clapton’s Stratocaster hybrid.

Drummer: The waterfall at the end of your seven-mile hike will seem way less cool than last time when you ate those dank mushrooms.

Singer: Your only-a-mother-could-love face ends up being pretty awkward when your drummer offers to let the band stay at his parents’ house next month.

Ukulele: Those three little words she was hoping to hear at dinner were not “You got this?”

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen