I can’t take credit for the title. It comes by way of Autopsy IV over at 9b, who got it from songs:illinois. It still fits so I am using it.
I’ve been hittin’ the bar a little hard lately. You see I get out of work at midnight. My kids have been asleep for four hours and wife for two. I could come straight home and hang out with Harley (the new dog who’s not Spot but is pretty OK for a dog that’s not) or I can hit the bar for Power Hour(tm) and have a few. I have been choosing option two a bit too frequently. It’s a bad thing to go drinking when you are broke and worse when your barkeep lets you run a tab and forgets to make you pay for over half of what you order. All in all it’s not the best scene.
(Read the article)
Cory Branan is always writing some catchy little ditty and this one is no exception. Special thanks to the gals at Hardcore Troubadours and the guys (one of them me) that run Last Chance Diner for the video.
Yeah you should listen to the song while reading. It will make more sense.
Jason Boland - The Bourbon Legend
I you think about it you know what sort of mark you will leave. And that is even if you won’t leave any mark at all. I got thinkin’ about this because of a song. Yeah I know it’s hard to imagine but bear with me. I was digging on The Bouron Legend today and started thinkin’ about how we each have our own legends. Mine is kind of fun to be honest. I know how my friends see me by what they call me to do with them and for what they think they can count on me for.
I get called to go drinkin’ or go to shows. I get relied on to have people’s back in a fight. I get called for parties and to go to karaoke. I get called very rarely for relationship problems.
I guess I can relate to the bourbon legend idea a whole lot. I have friends that tell stories about me that never went down, stories that went down a whole lot different, and stories that are true. The thing that seems odd to me about this is that people tell stories about me. It’s not just one or two people it’s a bunch of my friends. I tell stories about myself but that is because I like to tell stories. I tell stories about other people as well. My friends all tell stories about me and frequently to people I have never met. These people meet me and relate the stories back to me. I am not a legend of any great proportion but there is an aspect of legend to my life through these stories. I don’t correct the wrong ones and I guess I maybe should but to be frank I enjoy seeing where they go with this me that is not me.
According to my friends, and most of this may or may not be true, and I ain’t bragging just relatin’, I am someone you want on your side in a fight, someone you don’t want to be in hand of poker with, someone who can drink superhuman amounts of beer, jaeger, and or whiskey, someone who knows everyone, someone who is there when you need them, someone who puts his family first and still makes time to party, someone who is crazy, someone who is able to fix your computer over the phone. I don’t mind this reputation. I also have a bad reputation amongst some crowds and that’s fine as well. Our reputations are usually self made and the good Lord knows I am no saint.
I guess I am amused by the dichotomy. The more I think about it the more I realize I am really a love him or hate him kind of guy. I don’t know a single person who is ambiguous about me. It’s kind of fun. It’s also kind of hard to live up to the reputation that proceeds me at times. I almost cringe when I hear “Oh you’re the Rodeo Clown! I have heard so much about, let me buy you a drink”. And that’s no hyperbole. The nickname changes depending on the crowd but someone is always buying me a drink and wanting to hear a story. I guess I am happy to be entertaining for the most part.
The only regret I have about the Jaeger Legend thing that seems to be going on is the sad fact I haven’t been able to put my stories to music. I can tell them like they are campfire stories and do so with a bard’s tongue at times but I can’t seem to make lyrics out of them. So I have to use other people’s music as my soundtrack. Such is the life of a Jaeger Legend.
Ray Wylie Hubbard is one of the elder statesmen of the Texas Music Revolution. From his success with Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother to his general failure from the mod 70’s to the 90’s he has remained true to his music. In the 90’s when the TMR was coming up his albums Lost Train Of Thought and Loco Gringo’s Lament have been on the shelves of every true fan of Texas Country. Cited as an influence by the likes of Pat Green and Robert Earl Keen he plays a slow driving groove with all the Texas flavor you can imagine. With a groove like SRV and lyrics like no-one else he has released 9 albums since ‘92 and 13 in all. With a Greatest Hits nowhere in site he continues to have tracks on every Texas Music complilation that comes out.
The gritty images painted in Choctaw Bingo and Dallas After Midnight will stay with you for days after a few times on the old turntable. And if you can manage to not sing along with Screw You, We’re From Texas then, well, you must not be from Texas. There is not a bad song in the discography although some stand out more than others. Missippi Flush, Bones, and Dust Of The Chase belong on any poker player’s collection. Without mainstream recognition, likely due to the full on Texas attitude in his music, Wylie continues to play to full houses all of the state of Texas and has a large following in Europe as well.
Snake farm has been out less than a full year. It his, of course, his latest offering. Snake Farm, the opening track, has a dirty groove and lyrics that will leave you with ears open and wanting more. Heartaches and Grease should be the theme song for just about every scumbag I know.
Young pups ask me what makes my kind
Shameless women and pork rinds
Desirable lips keep telling me lies
Biscuits and bacon and fried pies
And it’s heartaches and grease
That’s what it takes
Heartaches and grease
That’s my mistakes
Heartaches and grease
Whoa a little disgrace
It’s heartaches and grease boys
That’s what it takes
The whole album is journey through the winding backroads of Texas with the windows down at dusk. As far as guilty pleasures go this album musically takes the cake for me right now. It’s been in heavy rotation on the MP3 player and won’t be leaving the playlist anytime soon. I have to reccomend this with the highest of honors. Ray Wylie Hubbard has once again, and not suprisingly, done Texas Music Proud.
Here’s an old one and a new one for ya, just a taste, go out and pay for this album. Support Texas Music.
Ray Wylie Hubbard - Screw You We’re From Texas
Ray Wylie Hubbard - Heartaches and Grease
Not me of course, I don’t get carried out but read on it’s a good story.
Friday night and I’m nearly broke. I manage to scrape up enough dosh to go and see Jason Boland play the firehouse. I called just about everybody but even the people that had promised to go backed out due to various reasons. So I ended up at the show by myself. Rockstar called and so during the opening act I bailed to grab him and Cornflake. When I got there some #’s crowd kid was sitting in my chair at their place. Of course this is a new development as it’s been Cornflake’s friends who do not grasp the concept of that being my chair. I decided to be nice since he was going with us and I just stole Rockstar’s chair and grabbed a Lone Star. I had a bucket on ice back at the show but one more surely wasn’t going to hurt the cause. I tried to tell #’s boy that leaving his purse in the car once we got to the show would be a good idea but apparently he didn’t take me too seriously.
Without incident we got the show long before the opening act was over. That Ryan Turner has some damn good stamina. I retrieved my bucket of Lone Star from the bar and headed back out into the crowd. It wasn’t long before the opening act was done and Jason Boland was ready to take the stage. We secured a good spot near the middle of the stage where we could see and from the first song it was, as it always is, a sing-a-long.
The group of guys by which we were standing were attempting to dance with a group of girls near them and failing. They weren’t failing at getting the girls to agree to dance with them but rather at the actual dacing part. I watched with detached amusement for a while and the cut in and showed those youngsters exactly how it’s done. They showed me their appreciation by giving me beer. It was diet beer but when it’s free that really doesn’t matter. Rockstar and Cornflake were edging towards the stage all the while so I hung back with my new found bucket of beer friends and enjoyed the show.
The show went on and it went well. The band got the crowd going and then all hell broke loose.
I am going to tell this part from the pieces of the story I got later since I didn’t actually see any of this go down.
Rockstar and Cornflake had edged their way up the stage and parked themselves next to a biker and his old lady. I know the biker from a couple of shows at the firehouse and he’s a pretty cool dude on top of that his old lady is as sweet as they come. For some backstory let me just state clearly that chicks can’t hold their smoke Cornflake can’t handle her booze. On the way back to the can the biker bumped into Conrflake and apparently either didn’t say sorry or didn’t say it loud enough for her to hear. So she exploded. I don’t mean like yelled at the guy but rather came at him like she wanted to fight. Now as I said he is a nice guy so he just backed up and tried to talk her down. He even told his old lady that there was no reason to fight. Rockstar grabbed Cornflake but since he’s skinny and was good and drunk he couldn’t hold her. This was about the time I became aware of the situation. I looked up and Rockstar asked for a little help. So like any good friend would do I slid through the crowd, locked up Cornflake, and dragged her off to the side. She’s a fiesty little thing and so I had to stop to get a better grip beside the stage.
Rockstar and I both tried to talk her down but she wasn’t having any of it. With a look and a nod I grabbed her legs and Rockstar grabbed her top and away we went. The crowd parted like the Red Sea and we got out the door without further incident. The Rockstar hadto go back in to get her pruse so I ended up with the job of babysitting her out front. I didn’t want the job but it’s what friends do. When she wouldn’t shut the hell up I decided I ought to let her know the score. I explained in no uncertain terms that she was to shut the hell and sit the hell down or I was going to the car and the gentlemen in the blue suits with shiney badges would be happy to explain to her the nuances of the term “public intoxication”. This finally got through to her and she shut up. Of course she was damn near vibrating from anger but I personally didn’t give a damn.
I had to go back in myself so when Rockstar came out I gave him the car keys and went back in. I stayed fro two more song because I damn well wanted to and then headed back to the car. I got in and turned the key and about the time the engine started so did Cornflake. Without stopping I gave her everything I had. I lit into her from ruining my show, for stopping me from delivering the message I had been asked to deliver (that part is personal and you guys don’t get to know), and for being a bitch in general. She finally shut up when she realized I wasn’t kidding about pulling over on the freeway and kicking her out of my car.
When we got back to their house the Rcokstar just kept apologizing over and over. This was not necessary as I have been the one that caused people to leave early myself and besides I had taken care of her whinging on anyway. I stayed just long enough to explain to Cornflake that if she kept up with the drinking she would end up in a bad place and the next time I wasn’t going to help bail her out then I took my leave and headed home.
All in all I missed a total of two songs and had a great time in spite of her antics. I won’t be taking her to anymore shows. She has burned that bridge. Me, well, I will be back to see Max Stalling on the 10th and in March I plan to make at least two of the three shows I rally want to see. I can’t invite the Rockstar because of his psycho wife but you know there are always people to meet at the shows and always other friends to drag along. Yeah Killcrazy that means you need to be ready next Friday night and not be whining about being tired and having a headache. You sounded like we were married and I wanted sex or something the last time we talked. “I am so tired, I have a headache”. Get over it! You are going out next weekend.
So the bar was Dirt. Literally. That’s the name of the place. And it’s Friday night.
The Rockstar, Cornflake, some chick, and I walk into the joint. We realize pretty quickly we are the coolest people in the joint. It’s a room, with a bar in the middle of it and that’s about it. It’s painted black and there are some booths scattered about and nary a barstool in sight. Drinks are ordered and we take up residence at a booth.
Androgyny is apparently the attire of the day and every guy in the joint appears to be hugging any guy that comes near him. Now don’t get me wrong I am not above hugging a guy if the situation is right but random hugs in a bar is just not the way things ought to be done. I pull my hat down as Rockstar orders another round.
Bits and pieces of conversation float our way and apparently one guy, who looks like Bowie circa Space Oddity, is bragging about kicking someone’s ass. This leads to a general chuckle from our table. Rockstar and I participate in the same pastime as any other bar. We make fun of people just a little too loudly. No-one will even look at us and the service sucks.
Cornflake’s friend, the random chick, had to head home because “my fiance doesn’t let me stay out too late”. I offer to walk her to the car. (Stop thinking that you pervs I am married). The trip to the car was a non-event. I made sure she got away from the bar and back to her master. The walk back was another story.
The andrgynous ass kicking dude was about to get into a cab and thought it a good idea to bulldog yours truly. I locked eyes with him and informed him that he really ought to take a picture as they last longer. He stood up straight just in time for me to stand nose to nose with him. He asked me, and not very politely I might add, what I had said. I explained to him that what I had said was that the most wise course of action would be for him to retire to his cab and be on his way. He, and again not so politely, queried me as to why this would be a wise course of action. I explained, overly politely, that his bed was likely more comfortable than a hospital bed and that being the case I was solely concerned for comfort. He indeed retired to his cab and left the premises.
I returned to the party of two that was left inside. Rockstar paid the bill while I pocketed our shot glasses, rocks glasses, and the ashtray. Normally I don’t take things from bars but this one sucked so badly that I was owed something for my time there.
The rest of the evening was completely without incident.
Comments(1)