Emily Nenni has a confession: she didn't always plan on being a performing artist. "I thought I was just going to be a songwriter," she admits. Clearly, life had something else in store. The singer and guitarist has emerged as one of the freshest and most electrifying voices in Nashville, with a sound rooted in classic honky-tonk and spiked with serious country, soul and rock 'n' roll fire, and sweet-and-sassy lyrics that chronicle hard living, hot nights, heartbreak and other universal truths about the human condition. Over the past several years she's enraptured audiences across Music City with sizzling sets in smoky bars and clubs, honing her command of the stage, perfecting her skills as a band leader and sharpening an already astute world view, all of which are on full display on her newest studio album, Drive & Cry. The record is a marked departure from her previous full-length, 2022's celebrated On the Ranch. Whereas that effort saw Nenni uproot herself to lend a hand — and write — while assisting at a ranch in southern Colorado, Drive & Cry drops the listener smack in the middle of her boisterous and bustling Nashville world. The album kicks off with "Get to Know Ya," a honky-tonk rave-up that celebrates the end of the work day and the beginning of a music-filled, come-what-may night. Nenni busts out her biggest hoops, jumps into the jeans she can "really only stand up in," and heads to the local bar. "Play 'til the sun'll come / when the daylight's done," she sings as the instrumental accompaniment races in step behind her. From there, Nenni leads into "Greatest Hits," a pedal-steel-inflected Dolly Parton-style number in which she tips her hat to underground honky-tonk venue Santa's Pub, a dive bar squeezed inside a double-wide trailer that has become her home-away-from-home in Nashville. "When I first came to town, I was 21 and singing at clubs with folks who were twice my age," Nenni recalls of moving to Music City from her native California. "Then a buddy of mine said, 'There's a place where people are making this music that are actually your age, and where you'd really fit in.' And that was Santa's Pub. It's where I learned that music doesn't have to be perfect — everybody is just having fun and there's no judgment. You can show up however you're feeling that night, have a good time and be surrounded by friends." A stellar cast of those friends stepped up to assist Nenni on Drive & Cry, beginning with producer John James Tourville of New West labelmates the Deslondes. "He brought in half the musicians and I brought in half," Nenni says. "And he gave me so much space to make the record that I wanted to make." It's a record that is her most personal to date. Save for an album-closing cover of Terry Allen's classic "Amarillo Highway" (a staple of her Sunday-night sets at Santa's), Nenni penned the remainder of the dozen tracks entirely on her own. "It's the first time I've done that," she says. "I had a few weeks alone at my house in Nashville, and I just sat with all my thoughts and feelings from the last couple years and put it all down. So this is an album that's truly 'me.' " The results put the full range of Nenni's singular musical voice on display, from the soaring "Changes," influenced by her love of Sixties girl groups, to the swampy, strutting empowerment anthem "I Don't Have to Like You," in which she declares "I'm a grown-ass woman and I don't trust a word you coo." There's also the Tina Turner homage "I Don't Need You" ("Got my own boots to fill and you know I will," Nenni assures), the wistful, late-night honky-tonk ode "We Sure Could Two Step," and the playful title track, in which, over a tight country-funk groove, Nenni jokes, "Don't you worry 'bout me / I'm gonna have a bawl." It's a lighthearted lyric, but one that is, like everything on the album, true to Nenni's life. "I do actually cry a fair bit, and I love to do it while I'm driving," she admits. Nenni will have plenty of opportunities for that in the near future, as she plans to take Drive & Cry on tour, far and wide. "I love to be on the road," she says. "I love to be with my buds, I love to play shows, and I love to make people happy and make people cry with my music. That's what truly makes me happy, too." Nenni laughs. "So I maybe never thought I'd be a performer, but I sure am glad that I am." \- I’m from where I woke up this morning. I write the songs that come to mind and struggle with the ones that don’t. I find humor in misconceptions and solace in laughter, love in the street and fire in the eyes of the marginalized. I prefer facts over alternate facts. I’m here to shoot you straight, although sometimes I fire from the hip. I was born a Cajun in Lake Charles, Louisiana at the end of the 1980s. When I was a boy, I was naturalized by the Natural State, then became a man. I plan to die in Arkansas. I dream of the raven riding thermals along the cliffs of the Ouachita. I’m blessed by the monks of Subiaco and silent with it’s hills. Sometimes my boots are tugged by the Calcasieu mud. A cold beer goes further than you think; “don’t give me two unless you’ve got 12 more” my buddy always says. I used to ride the levee at night and shoot at the moon. I used to run with the boys in Logan County, that’s also in Arkansas. I used to hold my breath in church until I saw stars just to see if Jesus would come down off that cross and save me. I used to hide from my brother, now I just hide from the cops. The sound of a dog drinking water is my favorite sound. I’ve never written all the songs I wish I had, but I’ve got 3 albums you can find on me or the internet. I used to be in a band called Keyless Gentry…we did one show. I spent all my 20s sweating on guitars, I hope to do it all my 30s. I spend most of my time behind a wheel, getting to you. Growing up, my mom played all her country tapes in our ’89 econoline. I love those songs almost as much as our memories. It was my mother Who first took me to the country I’m indebted to her Not only in Love But also in Time Say no to fascism \-DEARL Presented by Songbyrd. This is an all ages event