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Pdepict the birthplace of folk singer And may your mind naturally drift to nashvilleWhere? Neon-lit honky-tonks buzz from noon to nightBut travel a few hundred miles further east, into the lush foothills VirginiaBlue Ridge Mountains, and you’ll discover a much older origin story—one that has quietly shaped America’s Soundtrack,
I’m here to explore the Crooked Road, a 330-mile heritage music tour that winds through the misty outlines of Southwest Virginia’s Appalachian Mountains. This vast expanse of Americana connects a network of rural small towns through ten major music centers and more than 60 affiliated venues, celebrating everything from front porch jam sessions to boot-stomping community dances set to a soundtrack of bluegrass and old-time tunes. Think about the Coen brothers’ sharp score O Brother, Where Art Thou?And you are in the right key.
I’ve also brought my banjo along for the ride, the instrument has mostly been sitting in a dusty corner since I first picked it up a decade ago. If anywhere life can be tied back to its strings, it is this musical highway, I reason, touching down in Roanoke.
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Let’s start with the drive, because the twisty road lives up to its name. A few hours in, and I’ve started weaving into the hairpin turns that twist and turn through a landscape so lush and lyrical, it’s no wonder this stretch is ranked regularly America’s most beautiful routesRed-rusted barns and lush green hills line the side of the road as I reach my first stop: Floyd, a free-spirited hippie town with a population of just 449.
“If you drive past the traffic lights, you’ve already missed it,” a local with a wispy beard warned me, crossing his arms over his chest: It’s easy to blink beyond a single stoplight city. Continuing on, I find a quaint main street filled with pottery studios, artisan coffee spots, and shops stocked with farm-fresh produce.
At the center of this small but mighty community is the Floyd Country Store, a former grocery store built in 1910. Once almost lost to time, it was revived by Dylan Locke and his wife Heather in 2014, since then it has attracted big-name performers such as Gillian Welch to its glamorous stage.
Inside, the air is filled with the aroma of slow-baked apple pie, and gingham fabrics cover the tables that surround the well-worn wooden dancefloor. Over a bowl of hearty stew and a slice of home-baked cornbread, Dylan explains how Floyd, a former industrial town, found a new rhythm through music-based tourism.
“This kind of music resonates globally,” he says, “because it comes from everywhere and sounds familiar to many people.” Scottish and Irish settlers brought the fiddle, English ballads persisted, and the banjo’s roots are found in West Africa, carried by enslaved people. Dylan adds, “People have been playing this music in these hills for hundreds of years.” “In this area of Appalachia, traditions persisted for a long time, partly because people didn’t move around much, because the railways never made their way into these mountains.”
Today, there is hardly a quiet moment at this gloomy spot. Weekly songwriting circles, the long-running Friday Night Jamboree – a local tradition since the early eighties – and the monthly Floyd Radio Show keep things lively. There’s even The Handmade Music School, founded to preserve Appalachian music and dance traditions.
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I sign up for one-on-one banjo lessons with master picker Jared Boyd, who manages to sort out my incorrect clawhammer technique in just thirty minutes. In a roll, I join teenage dancer Epi Hello for a session of flatfooting, a relaxed, rhythmic folk dance with echoes of traditional Irish dancing but more sensual. The evening ends with me two-stepping to the lively tunes of the old-time house band and partnering up with the friendly residents on the carousel-go-round.
The next morning, I head along Crooked Road to the Blue Ridge Music Center, a beautiful amphitheater and museum near the Galax. Like many venues on the Trail, it comes alive in the warmer months when the open-air stage hosts a full program of bluegrass, classic country and roots performances.
Against the backdrop of lush mountain slopes, I met local musician Willard Gayhart. He played some airy guitar tunes before reflecting on the musical heritage of the area. “You know, not that much has changed, and that’s the beauty of this music. But what has happened.” The quality of musicians has changed. The younger generation is now learning to read music and studying these old songs at the university level,” the 93-year-old says, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun with a baseball cap.
Read more: I traveled to Kentucky’s Appalachian towns – which is why you should too
For my encore, I turn to Bristol, a city straddling the Virginia-Tennessee state line that is widely recognized as the birthplace of commercial country music. It was here in the summer of 1927 that a series of recording sessions captured the sounds that would define a genre. The Bristol Sessions introduced the world to the Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers, a moment that historians now call country music’s “big bang”.
These days, Bristol still wears its heritage with pride. At the Birthplace of Country Music Museum, engaging, interactive exhibits trace the journey from simple front porches to early recording booths. But the real soul of the city resides in music. I attend the museum’s weekly jam sessions, where I struggle to keep pace with the school-age players, breaking out tunes with astonishing drive and precision.
Even lunch here comes with a background story. At the nearby Retro Burger Bar, which was reportedly the location of Hank Williams’ last meal before he died, I ate a meaty burger named in his honor, one of several tributes on the menu to the forefathers of country music.
I can’t leave town without visiting the Carter Family Fold, a Saturday night ritual for over 50 years. The wooden barn dance venue, built in memory of AP, Sarah and Maybelle Carter, continues to attract crowds from far and wide. Greeting me at the door is AP’s granddaughter, Rita Forrester. As the band warms up on stage, she shifts gently in her chair and reflects on the enduring pull of the venue. “The unique thing about this place is that it takes you back in time, when people used to play the bus in their homes. It’s real Pahari music,” she smiles, “and people around here love to dance to it.”
Soon after, a university professor in a crisp shirt comes on stage, banjo in hand, and begins toe-tapping. On the floor below, dancers of all types mingle; Farm workers, tourists, children and nimble-footed grandmothers, swaying to the beat of the beat. It’s a joyous mix of generations and backgrounds, brought together in a shared moment.
On Virginia’s Crooked Road, such gatherings are nothing new. They are woven into the fabric of everyday life. And at a time when community often feels elusive, it’s a joy to find a place where people still dance with strangers and listen with their phones turned off as the music plays.
how to do it
Crooked Road is served by Roanoke-Blacksburg Regional Airport to the east and Tri-Cities Airport in Bristol, Virginia. American Airlines, Delta, United, and British Airways fly there, with a variation. Alternatively, fly direct to Nashville from the UK and it’s a 265-mile drive to Bristol.