A teenage athlete in St. Louis puts on glasses and gets told he looks like the biggest star on TV. That small twist becomes a calling. We sit down with Rick Shuler to explore how resemblance opened a door to craft, faith, and a tribute that feels startlingly alive—without losing his own voice. From the first time he saw John Denver perform with his mom to the day the phone rang when Denver died, Rick shares the moments that stitched his story to a legacy millions still cherish.

The heart of the conversation is intimacy: a last‑minute Aspen show, a living room performance for Hal Thau—John’s longtime manager—tears over a cherished guitar, and a friendship that lasted fourteen years. Rick explains why timbre isn’t imitation, how anatomy shapes tone, and why songwriting influences like James Taylor and Dan Fogelberg sit alongside a clear, joyful Christian faith. We talk C.S. Lewis and the three longings of the soul—home, love, and God—and why songs like Rocky Mountain High and Annie’s Song feel timeless, borderless, and endlessly singable. Younger listeners may not know Denver firsthand, but they follow the story through parents, memory, and the communal magic of a room that sings together.

We also preview Rocky Mountain High Christmas at The Factory: conductor and arranger Bill Lennihan, the Starlight String Ensemble, beloved hits, and new originals from Rick’s album Colorado. Expect vivid stories, a warm orchestral glow, and a show built for families to experience together. Rick calls it a gathering more than a concert, a place where nostalgia meets new wonder and where faith and artistry share the same breath. If John were in the audience, Rick imagines a grin and a simple “Far out”—a nod to gratitude over mimicry. Join us, subscribe for more soulful artist stories, and leave a review to tell us the lyric that still brings you home.

A Superman shirt, a Beatles jolt on TV, and a lifetime of songs that refuse to be one thing—Soup Gronda takes us inside the Ozark Mountain Daredevils with stories that feel like morning coffee on a back porch. We talk about how a group of songwriters built a band by honoring difference instead of forcing sameness, letting each track get the arrangement it deserved. That choice gave us the staying power of Jackie Blue and If You Wanna Get To Heaven, and it also confused a record industry that wanted tidy categories. Soup explains why they stuck to their guns and why the songs won.

You’ll hear how craft really works: capturing ideas with muddy hands in a garden, editing with intent, and the legendary moment Glenn Johns literally sliced tape to tighten Jackie Blue for radio. We dig into the lost art of album sequencing—five songs on side A, five on side B—and how that flow shaped deeper listening beyond the single. Soup’s philosophy keeps coming back to the same anchor: good songs last; bad ones vanish like a Bic lighter. The band wasn’t chasing “best player” polls; they were chasing melodies, words, and feels that people carry for decades.

We also explore the human choices behind the music: saying no to a Hollywood move, staying rooted in Missouri with families, gardens, and clean creeks, and valuing professionalism that starts long before showtime. Soup shares a clear creative credo—persevere, put in the hours, and finish the work. No rough mixes, no shortcuts. As we preview the upcoming Factory show, expect a generous helping of classics with fresh songs that keep the band curious and alive. If you love music history, songwriting process, and the soul of American roots rock, you’ll feel right at home.

If this conversation hits you like a favorite chorus, follow the show, share it with a friend who loves real songcraft, and leave a review telling us the Daredevils track you still carry with you.

What if the clearest path to connection is refusing to chase it? We sit with Kenny G to explore how a sound born before the internet’s noise can still cut through, why three hours of focused practice beats hacks and shortcuts, and how a meticulous ear turns a pop track into the perfect canvas for a sax line. He shares how learning in isolation sharpened his instincts, how circular breathing became a 45‑minute Guinness record, and why the tiniest variables—reed moisture, breath timing, embouchure fatigue—separate myth from mastery.

We get into the craft behind collaborations and why he spends days sculpting a solo until it feels inevitable. There’s the viral Valentine with Kanye West that started with a skeptical text and ended with a sprint to late-night TV, along with candid reflections from his documentary on the small breaks that changed everything. He’s honest about the career move he’d redo, the early boost from Jeff Lorber and Clive Davis, and the choice to stick with an artist-first mindset even when the market grabs louder headlines.

Beyond the stage, the conversation stretches into his disciplined life: pro‑am golf with a competitive edge, pilot training and staying legally current, and a quiet track record as an early Starbucks investor who knows wins don’t erase the misses. Rapid-fire favorites reveal the taste behind the tone—Tokyo shows, a dream duet with Stan Getz, and the song he’d play forever. We close with what to expect from the upcoming Factory concert: a tight band of longtime players, a set that blends classics and Christmas, and an energy that surprises people who think they already know the show.

If this conversation resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend who loves music stories with real craft, and leave a quick review so more listeners can find it.