At no point does her music adhere to one specific genre or mode
And her lyrics seem to dance around in western wear
Careful not to step on the raw, bluesy pace of the bassline
The steely whine of the electric guitar penetrates the song
Her sound, as she describes it, is “Urban Cowgirl,”
But none of the urban cowgirls that I have heard
Who can get down on dirty blues riffs quite like Angie does.
If you were to close your eyes and imagine the neon lights of a bar sign,
That is Angie Atkinson’s music.

The lyrics and her vocal range elevate the sound out of the bar
And reintroduce it to the mainstream in a way that suggests
That it was never really all that far away to begin with.
Her words create not only an emotional landscape
but a physical landscape, as well
Complete with sounds, sights, and smells.
Wordplay streams from her lips like ewers overflowing
With expressions of self-doubt and vulnerability,
Which by their very admission only reinforce
The strength and the resilience of their author

Attempts to direct the listener, she taunts you with her success
And her ability to focus on astounding poetry and a powerful voice
Presented in such a passionate and progressive dialect,
That is both familiar and foreign at the same time
Her prose is rampant with subtext and backstory
Adding that extra dimension.

She creates a shadow box through which her music shines.
The shadows cast on the walls of the listener’s mind
And stir deeply in their hearts.
At no point does Angie miss a beat
Or an opportunity to make an emotional connection
With you, me, we, the audience, at Large.
Her edgy, provocative words seem carefully selected
As perhaps only the daughter of a Reverend could,
There is no other gem to have ever inspired me
To create and let my passion go free
Because she is a perfect example
Of strength, and vulnerability, and talent