Fitton Center, Hamilton, OH
SOLD OUT – 8:30pm show
Born from the dark, rich soil of Charleston, West Virginia, Sierra Ferrell cut her teeth on the rail lines, truck stops, street corners and dingy, dimly-lit listening rooms across the land. Like the siren’s call, Ferrell’s voice draws those who hear her hauntingly, soulful thrum into a mesmerizing music experience they’ll never forget.
Ferrell plays guitar and is accompanied by her good friend Nate Leath on the fiddle. Her sets lead the audience on a seductive journey ranging from 1920s jazz clubs to sawdust-covered dance floors as she sings, stomps, and yodels the utter essence of honky tonk country blues.
Sierra recently signed with Rounder Records, Paradigm Talent Agency, and joined the Ramseur Management team. Sierra has opened for Trampled by Turtles, Charlie Crockett, Pokey LaFarge and will soon open for The Devil Makes Three in October. She has showcased her talent at the Nelsonville Music Festival, Out on the Weekend, and Shakori Hills Grassroots Festival. She’s scheduled to play Bristol Rhythm and Roots, Old Settlers Music Festival, and Merlefest.
Catch her now, in the most intimate of settings, for her star is ever on the rise!
What they’re saying:
“There are so many strands of country music that you won’t find on country radio these days. That’s okay; there’s a home for more at Americana and AAA. Meet West Virginia’s Sierra Ferrell, now in Nashville and newly signed to Rounder. She’s been wandering the country busking and adventuring, and she’s got a tremendous voice that’s joyously lilting, and at once vintage and contemporary. She sings with abandon, with a huge repertoire that spans jazz, country and cowboy music, with undertones of the blues.” – Jessie Scott / NPR Music
“Singular is too inadequate a word to describe Ferrell. Her mixture of tempo, melody, and imagery — each often changed multiple times within a single song — would be enough to make even the most traveled purveyor of singer-songwriters sit up and take notice. But when you see her perform one of those songs with that sorrowful, seductive voice in a certain nonchalant manner, with a faraway look in her eyes, you become entrenched in the black-dirt blues of late-night, rain-drenched streets, pool halls, and furnished rooms by way of Robert Mitchum’s Thunder Road.” – No Depression