The current issue of Oklahoma Today has—among many interesting and thoughtful pieces of writing that warrant you purchasing the issue—a story I worked on over several last months last year, discussing the arts-centric development of Automobile Alley in OKC with the lovely people at Factory Obscura, Oklahoma Contemporary, and elsewhere.

On the band’s new record The Thunderbird, Beau Jennings and the Tigers chronicle stories about fisherman Jimmy Houston and Dairy Queen employees lamenting their fate.

I’ve started a regular feature at I Ate Oklahoma on one of my culinary true loves, noodles. “Noodling” will be a monthly review on—hold onto your hat—noodles consumed at any one of Oklahoma’s finest and/or worst noodle-serving establishments.

Pressed about the ardent devotion of Hanson’s fan base—many of whom celebrate and follow the band with the same fervor as they did when “MMMBop” dominated airwaves in 1997—Taylor Hanson offers an explanation as simple as it is true: “It’s hard-fought,” he said. “We just keep putting in the time.”

“Good people, what are we waiting on?”

The refrain of Woody Guthrie’s folk battle cry, “What Are We Waiting On,” is at the heart of the all-original work written by the Woody Guthrie Poetry Group, or the Woody Poets, now in its 13th year. The group has done readings since 2005 in conjunction with Okemah’s Woody Guthrie Folk Festival, which starts July 11.

Luke Dick talks a lot about perspectives, and he’s lived enough lives to have a few. He’s been an adjunct philosophy professor, a forklift driver and a documentary producer: The forthcoming “Red Dog” chronicles his own childhood spent hanging out in a topless bar. Currently, the 39-year-old Oklahoma native fronts the shimmering, punky rock band Republican Hair while making his living penning country hits for artists like Dierks Bentley, Eric Church and Miranda Lambert.

While writing his new album, JD McPherson didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he said, but he “exposed maybe one or two chambers.”

A lifelong Oklahoman who relocated with his family to Nashville last year, McPherson recorded the deeply personal Undivided Heart & Soul with his band at the historic RCA Studio B, recording home of Chet Atkins and Elvis Presley and a major player in the creation of the Nashville sound. Permission to do so was an unexpected, saved-by-the-bell twist of fate that capped a series of creative frustrations and false starts. The album is full of lyrical tension and release, experimental work with equipment steeped in history, and, in terms of McPherson’s career, unprecedented levels of collaboration in production and songwriting.

Those who visit Wild Heart Ranch, a wildlife rehabilitation facility outside Claremore, likely will meet Pat. Pat looks something like a half-shaven turkey or a miniature ostrich. Curious and docile, she has probably seen better days, but it’s hard to say, because nobody even knew exactly what Pat was when she was rescued in April.