They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I took copious notes about this show – picking styles, lyrical themes, vocal timbres, witty banter, set lists, audience responses, etc. – planning to write a full-on dithyramb to honor the headliner. But it never happened. Now I only have time for this abbreviated hell, and I'm dragging you down with me.

Adeem the Artist opened. They introduced themselves as "a non-binary country musician" then paused a beat for the gasps that never came. Then we got on with the show. Adeem is based out of Knoxville, joining the tour with only an acoustic guitar and a pile of merch. They sang with a nice drawl and occasionally slipped into high falsetto that was borderline comical. The songs were more country than folk, but the blues were never far away. Most tunes were built on sparse fingerpicked arpeggios that left plenty of space for lyrics that Adeem confessed were mostly sad. True, but all were insightful and human-scaled. Their stories between songs were bonus entertainment, and worth the price of admission alone. The audience loved them and Adeem had a good time, closing with the playful directive, "Buy a t-shirt if you want to go to heaven when you die." I didn't, and I suspect that's only pushed us further down this hellish path.

I last covered William Elliott Whitmore in 2006. It's been twenty years and not a damn thing has changed. The convivial Lee County Iowa farmer started the set seated with his banjo, his trademark whiskeyed voice, and a solitary kick drum. The large crowd hooted in appreciation from the get-go, and several songs in, when he hit the classic "Lift My Jug," they were already singing along. His compositions draw from old-time folk and blues, with lyrics centered on rural life. But unlike contemporary boot-licking country, Whitmore knows where to place the blame. Times are hard and that might make him sad or that might make him angry, but it's definitely going to drive him to drink.

Midway through the set Whitmore switched to acoustic guitar and started taking requests. The audience plied him with alcohol and were repaid in deep cuts. Whitmore confessed he can't tell a good whiskey from a cheap one, then added that his favorite beer is always the one in his hand. The tequila may have amplified his rebel spirit, inspiring him to incorporate bits of both "Folsom Prison Blues" and "I Fought the Law" into his own "Johnny Law" to create a mid-set outlaw medley. Other covers included "Fear of Trains" (The Magnetic Fields) and "Don't Pray on Me" (Bad Religion) – both confirming Whitmore is ungovernable. Of course, all the old favorites were also played, as was a new song from an upcoming album Whitmore announced would be released later this year.

After crossing the hour mark, Whitmore announced he'd play "a couple two or three more." He kept repeating that promise every few songs as the set stretched longer and looser until he ultimately capped the night with "Old Devils." In his tune the devils are "malicious politicians with nefarious schemes, charlatans, and crooked cops." In my case the devils are just the demands of life and the toll it takes on creativity. Dear reader, I promise my intentions were good, but that planned paean to Whitmore may just have to wait another twenty years – if I can keep the devils off my back.