After a decade of whacking the hell out of his drum kit with the North Mississippi Allstars, Cody Dickinson is pumped to be playing guitar and singing with his “other” band, Hill Country Revue.

With their pockets all but empty, the four members of Atlanta’s Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun had to find a way to raise enough dough to record all their new songs.

An essential element in the performance of certain Indian classical music, the tabla is a pair of small, hand–played upright drums. One is wooden, the other metal, and they are tunable – meaning their pitch can be changed, the attack and/or decay varied, with a quick twist to wooden dowels connected to the drumhead.

Lori Stuart’s world is a square, cream–colored room in the west wing of Oceanside Nursing Center, a pleasant if nondescript private care facility on Van Horne Street, Tybee Island.

Channeling his restless energy has always been a tightrope walk for Jason Bible. As a kid back in Colleyville, Texas, the headstrong future frontman for the Train Wrecks was hell–bound to turn himself into a professional soccer player, and nothing was going to interfere.

Five years into his gig as Savannah’s go–to guy for Independence Day jazz, Jeremy Davis figures he’s got things fine–tuned. His Big Band, the Equinox Jazz Orchestra, has been inked to do one show every month – on Monday nights – at the Savannah Theatre.

Not many people think of setting themselves on fire, jumping into garbage cans and sleeping in a van as “the good old days,” but the members of GAM are different.

It was May 3, a Monday night, Rhythm Riot’s regular gig at Bay Street Blues. The classic rock quartet was due to finish playing at midnight. Lead singer Lori Stuart had been complaining of a headache for several hours; at 11:45, after performing “Losing My Religion,” she left the stage, pale and visibly disoriented, and took a seat behind the amplifiers.

It says on John Brannen’s birth certificate that he came into this world on March 19 in Savannah. That last bit’s a technicality. Brannen’s mother was based in Bluffton, S.C. at the time, and Savannah had the closest hospital.

Even though she’s headed for Italy to sing the role of Rosalinde in Die Fledermaus at Operafestival di Roma next month, local soprano Rebecca Flaherty has set her mind to something far more domestic: Bringing live opera to Savannah.

It’s been just under a year since we profiled Rasheed Akbar, a New Orleans street musician whose life was turned upside down by Hurricane Katrina, in a story called The Chairman of River Street.

Last month’s flooding in Nashville claimed 31 lives, and caused an estimated $1.5 billion in damage. Along with the devastation that rained down on the population, many venerable country music venues were damaged, including instrument warehouses where a lot of touring musicians stored their road gear.

When Robert Harris accepted a position in the Armstrong Atlantic State University music department, in 1981, he was already thinking about assembling a first-class chamber choir, from his best students, and the finest singers the community had to offer.

A little over two weeks ago, American Aquarium - the twangy alt-country band from Raleigh with the E Street sense of widescreen drama - played the Jinx, packed the place, rocked it seriously and sent everybody home at closing time with big, dumb, satisfied smiles on their faces.

Basik Lee is reflecting on what it means to be a rapper in Savannah. “I lived in Jersey my whole life,” he says. “Everybody’s like ‘You gotta go to the big city, you gotta go to these places and do your thing.’ For me, it’s not where you are, it’s who you are.”