Front Porch Sessions – Emmylou Harris & Rodney Crowell Return to Where the Music Still Matters
The Event: Healing Begins on the Front Porch
They didn’t need a spotlight.
Just a wooden porch, two old guitars, and a sky heavy with memory.
On August 25, legendary singer-songwriter Emmylou Harris and her longtime friend Rodney Crowell gathered at a ranch in Bandera, Texas, for an intimate concert called “Front Porch Sessions.”
This wasn’t a tour stop. It wasn’t even publicized much.
It was a gesture — for a town wounded by recent floods, for families still drying out photographs, still sweeping out mud, still trying to feel whole again.
About 75 people attended in person: neighbors, first responders, pastors, and teachers. But the magic spread far beyond — the event was streamed quietly online and shared across thousands of homes, trailers, and shelters across Texas.
There was no stage.
Emmylou sat on a rocking chair with her guitar across her lap.
Rodney Crowell strummed beside her. The air was still. The only backdrop was the soft creaking of the porch and the slow rustling of oak leaves overhead.
They began with gentle harmonies, trading songs and stories — some funny, some solemn. But when Emmylou introduced one particular song, the energy shifted.
“This one’s always been about pretending… and sometimes, in moments like this, pretending is all you have until strength shows up.”
And then she began “Making Believe.”
The Song: “Making Believe” – Heartbreak That Still Rings True
Originally written by Jimmy Work and made famous in 1955 by Kitty Wells, “Making Believe” has been recorded by dozens of legends — but none quite like Emmylou Harris.
Her version, recorded in the 1970s, strips the song down to its rawest ache.
It’s not just about romantic loss. It’s about the pain of pretending, about waking up every day and playing the role of someone okay… when you’re not.
“Making believe that you still love me…
It’s leaving me alone and so blue…”
In the context of flood recovery, those lyrics took on deeper meaning.
People weren’t just mourning homes. They were mourning normalcy — the old routines, the laughter in kitchens, the comfort of what used to be.
And “Making Believe” voiced what so many couldn’t say out loud:
That sometimes, the bravest thing we do is keep going… even if we have to fake it for a while.
Emmylou didn’t rush the song.
She let each syllable breathe, as if acknowledging the weight of what people had carried in silence.
By the time she finished, you could hear sniffles.
A woman in the front row dabbed her eyes.
Rodney reached over and simply placed a hand on Emmylou’s shoulder.
And in that small moment — porch boards creaking beneath boots, sun slipping low behind the hills — Bandera felt like it had exhaled for the first time in weeks.