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Top 10, finally. Good effort, not too great results.

For quite awhile I have wanted to do a slide show so I could more easily and efficiently compose lists, perhaps even with music. Well today I started with the Top 10 concerts I have attended. It was neither an easy nor efficient use of my time and that of my alternative ego, Mr. Smith, who was kind enough to let us make use of his You Tube account.

The slide show may or may not have music. If it does, it may eventually creep into songs played in the concerts I attended, although once the music gets going the slide show stops until you decide to run it again. Or so it went when I tried it out. Well, no one said I nor Mr. Smith were techno-whizes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxlMvvCaW4Q&list=HL1378159071&feature=player_detailpage

A word about these concerts. Some are listed with other times I saw the act. For instance, I saw Fleetwood Mac as part of the ZZ Top extravaganza in New Orleans. This was around the time they released the self-titled album. It was likewise just after Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joined the group. Then they were the featured act at another City Park show in New Orleans in, I believe, June 1977. I know it was just before I departed Gulfport for sea duty in the Western and Southern Pacific. That particular show in the late Spring of ’77 was pretty much my favorite concert ever. That had more to do with the friends I went with to the concert. We had a blast, Danny, George Jim, Rene and his friend, whose name slips my mind, and myself. The music was really good as well. It seemed every song from “Rumours,” was producing hit after hit from the spring through past the end of the year.

Also, another very popular album at that time was Bob Seger’s fantastic “Night Moves,” another hit machine. Starting off the concert was the melodic and soulful Louisiana Leroux, which has been a.k.a. “Leroux.” The performance was rounded out by Kenny Loggins, who had not long before split with his longtime musical partner, Jim Messina.

About a month before stopping off at our first liberty on our New Zealand and Australian “tour” on board the old destroyer we were given word by the XO that Fleetwood Mac would be playing in Auckland, N.Z., while we were to be there. There were a limited number of tickets available for, I think $7. Not a lot of money but when you were grossing about $535 — $7 would be worth about $27 these days, according to the BLS — then it was a little bit of cash to think about. But I wanted to see if concerts in the U.S. were different than the ones in New Zealand. It was a little different. You didn’t see people smoking reefer as was prevalent at concerts in the USA back then. Other than that not much difference at all. Plus, it was really good music.

So, thinking about “back in the day,” while trying to work with Mr. Smith on movies or slideshows. Here is hoping the ones I do in the future are much better.

Well, I played the video again and no music that time. Also, I noticed a slight error. The Superdome concert I attended where the Allman Brothers were headliners was the first rock concert (perhaps even Southern Rock) to ever take place. There were some other MOR people who played between the opening ceremonies in Aug. 3, 1975, and whenever the concert was … about a month later.

 

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Talking about the everlasting blues …

Do you want to know just how powerful a song can be when it lands in the hands — heart and soul actually — and voice of the one person?

It was 1975, I believe. I was driving home to East Texas from Gulfport, Miss., on Interstate 12 just east of Baton Rouge. I-12 is one of those short drives that can be forgetful. It is actually an 85.6-mi. intrastate interstate highway that leaves I-10 near Slidell, La., and joins up with the Interstate 10. It might have been lost to my memory had I not driven back and forth on this highway and on I-10 so many times in the 30 or so months I was stationed at the Navy Seabee Base

I would come to my hometown about one weekend a month. That is, until I started meeting some folks on my own and would hang with. But it still was nice to go see the home folks.

On one of those trips, a spring day if I am correct, I heard the unmistakably powerful and soulfully sweet voice of Bobby “Blue” Bland. I had heard his voice many times growing up, listening to the 45 rpm records and LPs of my brothers. Songs like “Cry, Cry, Cry,” and “Ain’t Nothing You Can Do.”  But this day a particular song stuck in my head that day and there it stuck for more than 35 years until I found it on that great reuniter, the internet. I was reintroduced to this song about not the healthiest of relationships and not the best of outcomes.

I speak of Bobby “Blue” Bland’s “Yolanda.” I knew the name. I remember the beat and after all these years … And now, Bobby is himself gone. Dead at the age of 83. But his songs and legends will live on. May he know the blues now only in song.

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Happy 8-0 Willie, no matter what day your birthday may be

Willie Nelson turns the big 8-0 today. Or tomorrow. There apparently is some dispute over what day The Red-Headed Stranger was born. Supposedly, he says today and the state of Texas says tomorrow (April 30, 2013.) Somehow, I think Willie might just light up a big ol’ reefer and say: “Who cares.”

There is no dispute that this extremely talented individual was born in Abbott, Texas, in Hill County. That is about five miles north of West, the small town struck with unimaginable destruction on April 17. In the wake of that devastation was left 15 dead and more than 150 injured.

Birthday Boy.
Birthday Boy.

All of this has to do with Willie in case you asked. Well, not the explosion but the man who seems to perpetually have a twinkle in his eye made his birthday party gig at the Bee Cave near Austin a benefit for the West volunteer firefighters and others who lost so heavily on that day. Some 12 of the 15 dead were first responders.

No matter that Willie Nelson is a “big old star” he is a country boy at his roots. And country people take care of their own. They might know yours and everyone else’s business and be judgmental as Roy Bean. But they take care of their own, by God.

“It’s been rough and rocky travelin’/But I’m finally standing upright on the ground/After takin’ several readings/I’m surprised to find my mind is fairly sound.” — “Me and Paul”

Willie has sang every kind of song, on every kind of stage, in cities big, small and in between. I first saw him, a clean cut replacement for Marty Robbins at a rodeo in Jasper, Texas. Then I saw him in his trademark short, cutoff blue jeans with a pony-tail and scraggly old red beard and hair. The hair was a lot less gray back in Santa Barbara in 1978.

There are so many songs of his I love: “Remember Me,” with his soulful singing, his wandering guitar and Sister Bobbie Nelson’s honky-tonk style piano. “The Red-Headed Stranger,” the concept album on which both the former and the title track may be heard. A hellacious cover version of Bob Wills’ “Stay a Little Longer.” You name it. Willie plays it.

Willie used to party a lot. Now, I understand he is a health-food nut. Yep, probably drinks only the best organic whiskey. He goes running, still I guess. Of course, he also has probably smoked enough ganja in his life to bring Bob Marley back from the dead.

He’s had highs in his life and he’s had lows. When I say “highs” I’m not talking about his well-known pot propensity. But he’s finally standing upright on the ground, just as he sung in the previously quoted tune “Me and Paul.” The “Paul” is Paul English, Willie’s long-time drummer, who is about the same age as Willie. Bobbie is two years older than her brother. Perhaps a bit of meanness is inside me but I would like to see a “Beer Rules” volleyball game between the Nelson clan and the Rolling Stones. Of course, Mick and the boys would probably get teased as “the youngsters.”

At any rate, if Willie Nelson isn’t my favorite musician, then he’s pretty damn close. Hope you have had a Happy Birthday Willie Hugh Nelson! Whenever you want to have it.

 

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Country says goodbye to Ol’ Possum Jones: Virtuoso of honky tonk blues dies at 81

George Jones died early Friday in Nashville at the age of 81. Such a common name for an uncommon man. Still, probably more than most people would know that this was “the greatest male vocalist in country music.” Untold thousands would just as easily recognize his nickname: “Ol’ Possum.”

“I had an album out with a side view of me with a crew cut,” Jones said in a 2009 interview on theBoot.com. “I was very young, and my nose looked more turned up, and I’ve got little beady eyes so I guess I did look like a possum! So they both laid into me and called me ‘Possum,’ and it got everywhere. There was no way I could stop that, so (I thought) I’ll just have to live with that!”

And live with it, he did. Though Jones informally lived with other names such as “The King of Broken Hearts” and “No Show Jones.” Through it all, from childhood to a tormented life of substance abuse, George Jones was a true blue country icon. He was admired by his peers as well as by younger performers of different genres such as the Rolling Stones’ Keith Richards and new wave pioneer Elvis Costello. This long form obituary in today’s Nashville Tennessean explains why those from different styles of music were such devotees of Jones. This is also likely one of the best tributes, warts and all, you will find of Jones on this day of his death.

Photo: Public Domain via Wikipedia
Photo: Public Domain via Wikipedia

Jones was born and raised in my part of the world. Some biographical pieces say he was born in a log cabin in Saratoga, Texas. Other bios said he spent his youth in Beaumont, where I now reside, picking and singing on a street corner for change.

The city of Vidor, Texas, also claims Jones as one of its own. Vidor can be found a short nine miles east of Beaumont on Interstate 10. One only has to cross the Neches River bridge, a.k.a. the “Purple Heart Memorial Bridge.” A movement started in the 1990s to name the Neches River Bridge after George Jones. Folks thought it was a good idea. The city council of Beaumont voted for it as did the Jefferson County commissioners. However, the vote had to be unanimous with county commissioners from Orange saying “yea.” The body voted “nay.” Jones said however the sides voted, he was just honored to be considered. But apparently some of Jones exploits must have burned some bridges in Orange County. Or perhaps Jones just wasn’t Holy enough for Orange County, a county in which residents in places such as Vidor have for years tried to live down reputations for being reputed Ku Klux Klan strongholds.

Before Possum set out for the Marines and eventually true stardom, he got his introduction to the record world at radio station KTXJ (1350 AM) in Jasper, 58 miles up the road from Beaumont. Coincidentally, KTXJ was the nearest radio station to where I grew up. Back in the day, it played both kinds of music: country and western. But Possum was long gone from KTXJ before I ever heard a radio broadcast.

Oddly enough, I was never a big George Jones fan. I understand why he is considered such a huge star, he was perhaps the best “song stylist” ever in country music. He also put so much pain in his sad songs that you thought he was going to break into tears and so much energy into his lively songs one might think he would explode. I did like a number of his songs though: “The Race Is On,” “White Lightning,” “She Thinks I Still Care,” among them.

Still, I understood that this man George Jones was a troubled man. Yet, he was a character and one who reminded me of the people I knew who were “known to drinks a bit” when I was growing up. The difference being they were just town drunks and Jones was a star.

So, from near your former haunts from many years past down here in Beaumont, we bid you a “so long” Ol’ Possum. Maybe someday we can name the freeway after you.

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Larry the Cable Guy redelivers me to the world of “Cracker Soul”

It’s one fine day. No work. I got up. I ate. I went to Jason’s Deli. I had the Club Lite. I don’t like the new bread. It’s kind of rough around the ages. I shopped at Kroger. I said: “Hello. How are you?” to the meat lady. And did the same to the lady who seems to keep the right-wall area with the bread and organics in great working order. This young guy comes up to me on the aisle with the skin lotions. He works there. He said: “Smell this. It’s vanilla. I bet I could get all the women with that.” It was surreal. You had to be there. I came back to the crib. I went for a walk. I have been thinking about writing a book forever. I have got a rough theme. It would be, like Kris says, “partly fact and partly fiction.” It would be, in all likelihood, controversial. I’ll give you a hint. Flying bird dogs. Does that make you crave for it? No? Well, that’s why I’ve got to think more about this thing. The walk was nice. I came back and sat down to this Internet on this one fine day.

I surfed into Cracker’s Web site. It was on purpose. This was because I watched late last night the History Channel show “Only in America with Larry the Cable Guy.” Larry is a guilty pleasure. I shouldn’t like him. But he has just that right amount of crassness combined with weirdness. You might even learn something.

Larry was at a Florida ranch where he extracted bull semen. He helped drive cattle across a marsh and into a barge and onto an island ranch. All of this was in Florida. The ranch foreman or owner said the origin of the term “cracker” came from Georgia folks who migrated to Florida. They came with their whips to help herd cows. The whips made the cracking sound. Hence came “cracker.” It’s sometime used as a derogatory word black people use for whites. And that’s all I’ve got to say about that, Gump. I’m not sure if my description of the rancher’s explanation was exactly as he said it, but it’s close enough. Because this was not the Cracker site to which I clicked.

I started listening to Cracker in the 90s. I continue to believe they were one of that decade’s best rock bands. Cracker, which has a dual life with the band Camper Van Beethoven, combines rock, some California country and whatever else it is they do. I haven’t listened to nor have I heard any Cracker songs from beyond the turn of the century. “Turn of the century” makes them sound old, doesn’t it? The band remains. That is it. It’s not bad that they just remain. It’s a good remain. In fact, it’s fantastic.

Cracker continues to produce, perhaps, what would result from Led Zeppelin meets the Eagles. I don’t know if that is accurate, but I mean it as a compliment. I guess they are too explicit for radio, although a couple of their hits are played on Classic Rock stations.

A number of great videos, some dating back to the 90s, can be found on the Cracker site. Perhaps the most interesting is “Yalla, Yalla.” Cracker driving force David Lowery explains the name comes from Arabic, kind of an expression like the Spanish “vamanos”  when used as a command. It is a speed-demon rocker of a song that, according to Lowery, doesn’t take any sides in the Iraq War. Lowery later explains that he was against the Iraq War because the war in Afghanistan was what deserved our nation’s attention. As I felt and feel, the U.S. needed to get out of Iraq leaving it in a stable state. This piece is not for arguing. Enough of arguing, already. I must also warn that “Yalla, Yalla” has some very suggestive scenes of military personnel whose videos came from You Tube. Please read Lowery’s explanation before watching.

 

There are more than two kick-ass videos on the Cracker site. Here is number two. It’s a dynamite Cracker-style country-like tune called Friends with Patterson Hood. Dysfunctional friendships such as is described are probably more common than anyone will imagine. Some of my friendships have been dysfunctional, I make no admission nor charge as who’s to blame. By the way, Patterson Hood is guitarist and vocalist for the Southern Rock band Drive-by Truckers, I had to look that up. You’re welcome. Oh. Okay the song is ‘Friends’ and it’s played with Patterson Hood. He’s the guy with the beard and glasses. I’m so confused.

If you enjoy these two songs. More rest upon the Cracker video site. Happy Friday. Oh, and “One Fine Day” is a bluesy, somewhat spiritual tune. I’ve had one fine day today. But it hasn’t exactly been like “One Fine Day.” So remember, spring forward this weekend.