Sunday, January 31, 2010

Drinking With Dale Watson

Dale Watson brought his 2010 winter tour to Iota in Arlington this past Monday (1/25). The club was reaching capacity when Watson came on stage around 9:15 and started the show with "Truckstop in La Grange" from his 1996 CD Blessed or Damned. Before wrapping up the opening song, he briefly morphed it into Z.Z. Top's "La Grange".

After thanking the crowd for coming out, Watson made the first of his many pitches for Lone Star Beer. (When I saw Watson perform at the Continental Club in Austin is September, Watson made several Lone Star pitches. At the time, I thought it was something he only did at his regular gigs in Texas.) Iota doesn't serve Lone Star, but the club does have another Texas favorite, Shiner, on tap. A member of the audience was quick to point this out. Of course, Watson argued Shiner just wasn't the same and went on with his Lone Star pitch with his right hand curved as to say "someone put a beer in my hand".


(Dale Watson on stage at the 2008 Richmond Folk Festival)

Seeing Watson wouldn't settle for the Shiner alternative, it wasn't long before members of the audience presented Watson an option he could live with, a steady stream of whiskey shots. After throwing back the first shot, Watson settled into a pattern of performing a song or two, making a pitch for Lone Star and/or telling a story, throwing back a shot, and then taking a request. Many of Watson's shows revolve around audience requests, which seems to work well for him because most audience members know his material and the classic country artists whose material he likes to cover. But, occasionally some dumbass in the audience will begin to yell for something totally absurd. This time around someone in the back of the club began yelling for Watson to sing something by Mojo Nixon. Watson played it off well, saying Nixon was friend of his.

After being on stage for an hour so, Watson had knocked out a few requests, including his own "Wine, Wine, Wine" and Ray Price's "Bright Lights and Blonde Haired Women". At that point, Watson had also knocked back a few shots and a few beers. The between song Lone Star pitches were replaced with drinking stories about bad experiences with different types of liquor. For better or worse, these stories just inspired the audience to supply shots of the liquor the stories centered around. Soon, Watson found himself trying to knock back a shot of Southern Comfort. During the song that followed, Watson showed a little facial contortion. After the song was over, he admitted to throwing up "a little" in his mouth. Lucky for him, the Peppermint Schnapps shot that followed went down a little more smoothly.

During Watson's second hour on stage, and for obvious reasons, the pace of the show slowed somewhat. Watson did perform his version of "Fox On the Run", a song brought into the country & bluegrass world by groundbreaking D.C. bluegrass band The Country Gentlemen. (A mention of the Gents would have been nice, but maybe Watson learned the song from the Tom T. Hall version?!?!) Fiddler Don Raby was featured on "Orange Blossom Special", with the kicker being the band playing a portion slow motion, as opposed to kicking the song into hyperdrive as many bluegrass bands do. And, Watson played two of his odes to Ginny's Little Longhorn in Austin, "Honkiest Tonkiest Beer Joint" and "No Fussin', No Cussin'".

Around the two mark, Watson broke into one of his anti-Nashville establishment songs, "Country My Ass". The song has a slightly awkward meter to it to begin with, but with the number of shots Watson had put down at that point, the song became somewhat of a trainwreck. But, Watson did quickly comeback with a nice version of Merle Haggard's "Silver Wings", which Watson said would be his last slow song of the evening.

After two and half hours on stage, at least eight shots and with Watson working the Del McCoury squint, he had outlasted me. I headed for the exit as the clock neared midnight, but Watson was showing no signs of leaving the stage. I'll readily admit the show was well worth the $15 cover and I'm sure the folks who stuck around until Watson wrapped up the show more than agreed with me.

(A short postscript. "J.D." attended Watson's show in Richmond the following night and reported that Watson showed no ill effects from Monday night's show. "J.D." also reported Watson continued with the Lone Star pitches. So much so, "J.D." thought Watson was on retainer for the brewery.)

Friday, January 29, 2010

D.C. Comings and Goings

We'll talk about the "goings" first. Today is D.C. radio legend Donnie Simpson's last day at WPGC. Although Simpson's contract runs into 2011, he is leaving due to a dispute with station management over his morning show's content and falling ratings. Earlier this week, The Washington Post ran this piece on Simpson's exit. It's seems this is just a sign of the times of what is going on in the radio industry.

On the "comings" side, this Dave McKenna "Cheap Seats" column from the latest edition of The Washington City Paper tells about former Washington Bullet Jeff Ruland's struggles in his first year as men's basketball coach at UDC. Unfortunately, the electronic version of the column leaves out the brief history of the program, going back to its early 80s glory days, that is included in the paper version of The City Paper. (The web version also uses a picture of Ruland that is different from the mugshot looking photo that is used in the paper version.)

Friday Frolics, Volume 41: Protecting America

On this day in 1861, Kansas was admitted to the Union. To celebrate Kansas' 148th birthday, let's take a look at a t-shirt I heard about while vacationing in the Midwest last year. Those of you who don't understand the joke should read this.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Mr. Hendrickson Goes to Washington

In the latest episode of HBO's Big Love, Mormon polygamist Bill Hendrickson (played by Bill Paxton) travels to the Nation's Capital to make some political inroads. After arriving in D.C., he is joined by wife number two, Nikki, and her daughter. As Nikki and her daughter walk thru Union Station upon arriving in D.C., Nikki gives her teenage daughter the following guidance:

This is a dangerous city. It may not look like it is, but it is. These people may seem like they're normal, but they're not. There are some neighborhoods you can't imagine. Just stick by my side at all times. Don't flash any money. Don't talk to strangers. And, don't let anyone proposition you.

As a native of the National Capital Area, I'd like to address Nikki's concerns.

This is a dangerous city. It may not look like it is, but it is.
It's not as dangerous as is it used to be. I mean the District isn't averaging 1.25 murders a day anymore like it did in 1991. And, you can't readily find a hooker on 14th St. nowadays. At least that's what I hear. Hell, the most dangerous part of the city is probably Capitol Hill. Over that way, you never when you're going to get hit by the BS flying from the 535 a-holes who call the Capitol their workplace.

These people may seem like they're normal, but they're not.
I think I agree. Folks around here are overly concerned about themsleves, their job, and they generally don't give a crap about too much outside their own little universe. Yes, that's a sweeping generalization, but this is my blog and it's about me, me, me.

There are some neighborhoods you can't imagine.
Every city has its bad 'hoods, but how in the hell did this area get cursed with Clarendon?

Just stick by my side at all times. Don't flash any money. Don't talk to strangers. And, don't let anyone proposition you.
Nowadays, who has any money to flash? Unless of course, you take some of those strangers up on their propositions!

Toward the end of the episode, Nikki gets busted for having a gun in her purse. Anyone who has been following the Gilbert Arenas saga would know having a firearm in the District is a giant no-no. But somehow in TV land, Bill is able to talk the police out of pressing charges against Nikki. Maybe Gilbert and Javaris Crittenten think they're living in TV land. Oh wait, they are NBA players.

What Do Drummers and Banjo Players Have In Common?

The answer...nothing really. I just have a snipet about each one I want to share here.

First, a friend of mine who is a drummer in Austin sent me this post from Craigslist in Nashville...

Looking for someone special who would kill my drummer for $100.00. Do not fear any negative consequences for this act. Any self respecting law enforcement agency would gladly turn the other cheek once they hear this guy "play." I am tired of hearing his '70s-style fills put in the wrong spot and ending one half beat early or late depending on how much he's had to smoke. I am tired of him standing up behind his drums between songs and ripping his shirt off and flexing his muscles at wedding receptions where we were hired to play Air Supply, Carpenters , and Ann Murray songs because "chicks dig the pecs, dude." I am tired of him showing up 20 minutes late for rehearsals then pouting until someone helps him load in his drums, then taking 30 minutes to set them up and needing a smoke break every 15 minutes, and then wanting to leave early because "this chick is so fine, I can't say no, and she knows record people dude, so it's for the band." I am totally done with him calling me up at midnight to play me some damned jazz fusion album from 1981, crying and saying how we shouldn't have sold out to "the man" and asking if I know anyone who can get him some weed knowing full well I smoked twice in '69 and never touched it after that. I am sick of him farting on stage where the drum mics pick it up and thinking this shit is funny. I am tired of kicking off slow ballads at well under 80 bpm only to have them morph into the methamphetimine version of flight of the bumble bee, because that's the tempo he "feels" it at. I am tired of having to carry jumper cables to the gig because "I must have left the dome light on again, dude," instead of admitting his '84 astro van is a worn out piece of crap. I am tired of him asking when he's gonna get a drum solo. I am tired of paying his tab at restaurants because "that chick must have stole my wallet man, but it was worth it 'cause she was a phreak." I will not move my amp again so he can put another new cymbal on the stage, because "when we learn some fusion I'll need this sound." Please, somebody kill this motherf*cker. I can't do it because he's my brother and mom would be so pissed off even though she thinks the band would probably sound better too. Besides, if you are good at killing drummers, you could probably make a lot of money in this town.

A while back, "J.D." sent me this piece of news regarding an assault in Colorado....

ASPEN, Colo. (AP) - A banjo player accused of assaulting another man with his instrument will get to keep pickin' while awaiting his trial. Thirty-three-year-old Joseph Stancato of Denver faces second-degree assault charges after allegedly hitting another man upside the head with his banjo on New Year's Eve. Authorities say Stancato got into an argument with two men at a bus stop. District Judge James Boyd on Monday approved Stancato's request to be allowed on the road to tour with a band while awaiting his next court date Feb. 6. The banjo is considered "a deadly weapon" under Colorado law, so Stancato could face prison time, the Aspen Daily News reported.

There are plenty of jokes that could be made about that one!

Friday, January 22, 2010

Friday Frolics, Volume 40: The Velvet Jones School of Technology

This Eddie Murphy-Saturday Night Live skit from the early 80s seems appropriate in this day of the infomercial. It's too bad Billy Mays isn't still around to do a sequel.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

A Flashback to the Dead Reckoners, Part 1

Most Sunday mornings, I tune into CBS Sunday Morning right when it comes on the air to see what features are being run that week. One Sunday a couple of months back, the feature story on the program was on "country" superstar Keith Urban. I'm in no way a fan of Urban, or his music. But, I do find these sort of profiles interesting in most cases because I usually learn a little something more about music, even if I dislike the performer being profiled.

The Urban story was your typical rags to riches story, with the slight twist of Urban making his way to Nashville from Australia. Of course, the story included drug and alcohol abuse and the happily ever after (for now) ending with Urban marrying Nicole Kidman. Watching the Urban profile reminded that I once saw Keith Urban perform. He and his band at the time, the Ranch, opened for a very talented group of singers-songwriters-musicians known as the Dead Reckoners.

If I remember properly, the show was in late 1995 or early 1996. It was one of the last concerts I saw at the Birchmere's second location, just prior to its move to its current location in 1996. The Ranch's opening set was nothing special. I don't think anyone in the small crowd of 100 people or so left thinking Urban would be the superstar he is today. I definitely was ready for some music I liked by the time the Dead Reckoners came on stage.

After this Keith Urban bashing and by this time, you're probably wondering just who were the Dead Reckoners and why was I so interested in seeing them. The Dead Reckoners were Mike Henderson, Keiran Kane, Tammy Rogers, Harry Stinson and Kevin Welch. In the couple of years prior to this concert, this group of individuals came together to found their own record label, Dead Reckoning, in an attempt to get their music out to the public without the assistance (or hinderance) of one of Nashville's major labels. Henderson, Welch and Kane (as part of the O'Kanes) had all had major label deals in the years prior to Dead Reckoning, with varying amounts of success. But at this point in their careers, all five Dead Reckoners were more concerned about doing things their own way and performing the music they wanted to perform than pursuing stardom through the Nashville meat grinder system.

Each of the five Dead Reckoners brought a unique skill set to the label and the band. Henderson was a crack Nashville session guitarist and solid songwriter. (At the time, Henderson and Stuert Smith were the only two Nashville session guitarists who had tones that were instantly identifiable among the dozens of guitar players playing country sessions.) Keiran Kane had teamed up with fellow songwriter Jamie O'Hara as the O'Kanes. The O'Kanes had a few hits in the late 80s, before going their separate ways. Rogers got her start playing fiddle in a bluegrass band that included another future "country" superstar, Kenny Chesney. After that, she toured as part of both Patty Loveless' and Trisha Yearwood's bands. Harry Stinson played drums on the road with Steve Earle and Lyle Lovett prior to becoming one of Nashville's most in demand session drummers and harmony singers. Kevin Welch had his songs recorded by artists such as Conway Twitty, Waylon Jennings and Reba McIntire before recording two CDs for Warner Brothers in the early 90s.


By the time of this show at the Birchmere, all the Dead Reckoning artists/owners, other than Stinson had released at least one CD, if not more, on the label and the group was touring as a band in support of their collabrative CD A Night of Reckoning.

(to be continued)

Friday, January 15, 2010

Friday Frolics, Volume 39: The Simpsons for KFC

Is it a conflict of interest that Homer & family are spokespeople for two different chicken chains? At this rate, they'll be doing ads for Flavors in the near future.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

A Nighthawk Says Goodnight


Seeing I've been held hostage by SiriusXM radio for the greater part of 2010, I missed the recent announcement that longtime Nighthawk drummer Pete Ragusa is retiring from the band. Last week, a friend sent me this link to John Kelly's Washington Post blog which has an interview with Ragusa. Ragusa had been with the Nighthawks for over 35 years. That's a hell of lot time to be anchoring the rhythm section in any band, let alone one that was considered by many to be the world's best bar band for many years.

Although I've seen the 'Hawks numerous times, I'm a little too young to have seen them play in the rip roaring days of the 70s and early 80s when their "classic" lineup of Ragusa, Mark Wenner, Jimmy Thackery and Jan Zukowski was playing up to 300 nights a year. And, to be honest, I never comprehended how much of a national band they were until 1994, the first year I attended Jazz Fest in New Orleans. I didn't see the Nighthawks play in New Orleans in 1994. They weren't even in town. But, not long after setting foot in Jimmy's for a Delbert McCllinton show, I noticed several Hatch Show Print posters for past shows at Jimmy's that featured the Nighthawks. Some of the aged posters listed the 'Hawks as the headliners, while others had them opening for acts like Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown. To this day, it always makes me feel good to see something old school D.C. when I'm traveling in other parts of the country.

Since I missed out on those wild 'Hawks shows back in the day, I'll share a story my friend "Mr. B." shared with me via email last year as we were discussing potential D.C. music posts here on Shedd's Spot.

I do remember the first time I saw the Nighthawks, though. It was the fall of '79 down at William & Mary in a large gym-like building. Admission was like a dollar or 2 and included unlimited beer courtesy of the student activity fund or something. Wenner had hurt his back and seemed to be paralyzed from about the chest down. A couple of roadies carried him on stage and propped him up against a stool or something. I didn't know anything about the blues and had likely never heard of the Nighthawks, but free beer? Hell yes. What I remember is that they jammed and jammed and jammed. I remember them totally rocking, playing for hours and just not stopping. Thackery playing behind his head, duck-walking, teeth, the whole thing. Finally at like 2:30 AM or something the authorities turned on the lights and the band took the hint and quit at the end of that song. We wandered off and threw a shopping cart off the roof of Billy's dorm or something. Anyway, great show and I saw them many times over the next several years.

After sharing that story, I guess the only way to wrap up this post is to say the Nighthawks, including Ragusa, have just released Last Train to Bluesville, an all accoustic CD recorded at, of all places, the SiriusXM studios in D.C.

Friday, January 8, 2010

A Tribute to the King

On this day last year, I posted this entry as a tribute to Elvis Presley (and Esau Smith) on what would have been his 74th birthday. This year's tribute to the King revolves around this Vanity Fair article recently emailed to me by my friend, and Shedd's Spot's west coast bureau chief, "M.K.". After all, the King deserves a classy tribute on what would have been his 75th birthday.

The Vanity Fair piece actually details the period of time in mid-1956 when photographer Alfred Wertheimer shadowed Elvis and took hundreds of photographs of Elvis in the recording studio during the "Hound Dog"/"Don't Be Cruel" sessions, at the Steve Allen Show in New York, at a concert in Richmond, Virginia, and during a long train ride back to Memphis. One very strange fact brought to light in the piece is that Wertheimer had no idea who Elvis was prior to taking the photography assignment from RCA Records. A short slide show of 13 of Wertheimer's photographs of Elvis accompanies the article and can be seen here. The photos are also part of a travelling exhibit, Elvis at 21, which opens today at the Grammy Museum in Los Angeles.

Wertheimer published a book of these photographs, Elvis at 21 New York to Memphis, in 2006. The book also includes a narrative by Wertheimer that details the days he spent with Presley in July 1956. The book is a must own for anyone who is more than a passing Elvis fan, although the list price of $65 may put it beyond the range of some fans.

To wrap up this tribute to Elvis, here is the King performing one of the songs he recorded during the days Wertheimer shadowed him in 1956.

Friday Frolics, Volume 38: More From Church's Fried Chicken

Maybe the Simpsons will hawk anything?!?!

Friday, January 1, 2010

Friday Frolics, Volume 37: Dolemite Workin' the Club Scene

Let's celebrate the New Year wirh Rudy Ray Moore, aka Dolemite, working the crowd at a club. This one shouldn't be viewed at work.