Thoughts
Ever get a feeling about yourself, of suddenly noticing where you are, of what you're doing with your life? Where you're going and what it all means...any of that? It hits me occasionally, at weird, random moments but is fleeting and never lingers. Like I'm suddenly in a dream, floating, outside of myself, looking at everything. It's a bizarre thing. Last night it happened. We were in the middle of a tune, I'm on stage (totally sober) and I suddenly have this hyper awareness of where I am and what I'm doing, but it was like I was watching myself perform. I was still able to play during this dream state, nothing was lost but (for a brief moment) it was like my spirit was dancing around me, sitting on my shoulders checking me out. Then, I was reminded of a passage I'd read in a wonderful book by Eckhart Tolle called, The Power Of Now, where he's describing three different states of being...the first is just you in the moment, then next is your mind with all of your thoughts, but then there's another self that is above all of that, listening, watching and that's the one I felt last night. It's hard to explain.An out-of-body experience, perhaps?
Billy Seward
That's his name and his game is Soul. Without going into it too much, (cause I think I already covered this subject somewhere in this blog) we wanted to make a record together, he asked me to produce, I happily accepted the challenge and promptly hired the best in Memphis to help make it happen and the results came out fantastic. Billy's new record is totally smokin' and available for all to own. Check it out, here 
Recorded at Ardent Studios in Memphis, engineered by Jeff Powell with his assistant, Lucas Peterson and features Al Gamble, Joe Restivo, Jim Spake, Marc Franklin, Landon Moore, Scott Thompson and yours truly. Go get it, now!
It was twenty years ago today...
Literally, July marks exactly twenty years ago that I first made the journey westward from Memphis to California and it's amazing looking back on where I was at that point. What a trip. Although this 4th of July, instead of boarding the Greyhound west, I'll be getting on a plane and heading back home for several weeks, filling my days and nights with lots of hang time with family and friends before the summer tour with CRB. LA has been pretty good to me this time around and I feel confident about where things seem to be headed, although my disposition may have something to do with that, as I know I've changed a good bit since relocating here in 1991. Life was somehow simpler and less hectic, but I was idealistic and lacked a clear direction. A kid with stars in his eyes in the land of movie stars. Twenty years, wow. That seems like a lifetime ago.Today, I'm happy, grateful and incredibly lucky for the amazing people near to me and to be sharing the stage with the wonderful musicians in my company.
This summer is gonna rock!
Another great one has left us...
Seems like I've been surrounded by death lately, which is a constant reminder to me of how precious our life is on this planet. Last week I got a call from my good friend Jim Austin, an amazing upright bassist who plays in a number of great west coast groups, one of them being Brawley, a total baddass honky tonk band of troubadours. It was a sad call, as Jim and his band members had just received word that their drummer, Johnny had suddenly passed away and they had a gig coming up soon that needed to happen. Touchy situation indeed, but everyone agreed that Johnny would have wanted the show to go on, with or without him. Apparently, he was just that kind of guy. He and I didn't know one another, but somehow I feel like I might've met him at some point cause when I saw his photo, there was something familiar to me. Maybe I saw him play once.I found some nice words written about him on a website solely dedicated to preserving the memory of great musicians called, The Music's Over.John Kulhken was an accomplished musician who took up the drums when he was just 8 years old. Born and raised in the San Diego, California area, Kulhken joined the Air Force after graduating from high school and later earned a Journalism degree from San Diego State University. A true journeyman drummer, Kulhken played in many local bands including the MacAnanys, the Nards, the Rugburns, and Sara Petite and the Sugar Daddies. A 10-year survivor of non-Hodgkin Lymphoma for which he received a bone marrow transplant, Kulhken was hospitalized after not feeling well on May 20th only to learn he was suffering from a blood infection that ultimately took his life several hours later. John Kuhlken was 49 when he passed away on May 20, 2011.
What a great smile and from everything I've heard about this man, he was a true blue cat. Of course, I told my friend that I'd be more than happy to play with them and I've got about 15 of Brawley's tunes to learn, which won't be so easy to pull off, as there's a spark and snap in his playing that can only come from years of experience with honky tonk music. Such a killer player he was and a perfect, relaxed feel for that music. I'm sitting here in my apartment listening to a live recording from one of their recent shows, thinking of the loss. I dig his playing...[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqfAsjQTJXg&feature=player_embedded]Rest in peace, my brother in drums.
"And all of that for tips!"
The CRB played a show at the world famous Pappy & Harriet's in Pioneertown last week but we had a day off the day before, so I decided to head out to the high desert of Yucca Valley to see if I couldn't gain some perspective on the world and such. As much fun as it is, touring life can often take a toll on your body, mind and spirit, so if the opportunity is there, it's good to take some time to yourself every once in a while. I had a great time, hung out with old friends, played music, ate righteously and was able to sit quietly with my thoughts, although the altitude and dry air really messed with my sinuses quite a bit. Starry skies, Joshua trees and many lizards I saw, but didn't get much sleep, that is, until I paid a visit to the pharmacy for some vitamins and meds. That helped me out a lot.One thing I will say about people of the desert, they often have unique personalities and (some) see the world through a very different lens. Many folks I met seemed totally confused that I was a touring musician from Memphis and couldn't believe I was visiting the desert alone. Trying on their best southern accent, "Really? Wow, Memphis. You kn0w I have a friend in Nashville. Maybe you know him?" Of course, what they don't realize is that Nashville is roughly three hours away from Memphis and is a pretty big town. Funny.A friend of mine introduced me to a lady he was dating and she immediately wanted to know how I was able to travel as much as I do and be away from home all the time, or in my case, no home at all. I told her I loved traveling and everything that comes with it, but when I described to her the rigors of the road, right away she seemed turned off by the idea. Waking up in a different city every morning, searching for good food in unfamiliar surroundings, working until very late at night then repeating everything the very next day. It's a pretty good life, I said with a smile and I've gotten to see a lot of the world. But to my complete surprise and amazement, she looked at me without batting an eye and said, "And all of that for tips!"It took me a second to realize what she was saying.What do you mean, I asked?"Well, you play for tips, right?" Really...are you serious? You think that I play music for tips? I'm a little insulted, I said."I'm sorry. I just wasn't sure that anyone could really make a living playing music. You mean, this is your job?"Of course, I won't bore you with the rest, but it was one of the most interesting conversations I've had in a very long time and I realized she was (in no way) trying to hurt my feelings at all, just terribly misinformed. I went on to tell her that as a salaried employee, things were good and although I wasn't getting rich or anything, my life was full and my bills (for the most part) were being paid. Later, I discovered she was quite wealthy herself and thought that music was something that people did for fun, on the side as a hobby. I guess there are those who do.Lord, have mercy.
Like A Glove
There's nothing quite like the feeling of walking into a vintage shop, seeing a gorgeous Stetson hanging on the wall, trying it on and having it actually fit. It's a rare occasion, indeed. Although an avid fan and owner of many, I'm usually not very lucky when it comes to vintage hats due the size of my noggin, but two days ago I happened upon this lovely right here and my name was written all over it.
Nothing fits like a Stetson.
I'm blushing a little...
Many thanks to my pal Katie Jackson for these amazing words. You're a doll.http://kjselfindulgence.blogspot.com/2011/04/hippie-shake-revised.html?spref=fb
Memphis, keep the light on for me...
...cause I sure am gonna miss you while I'm gone.
This is my last day in town, my stuff is put away in storage and my apartment is almost empty. I'm ready to go. Tomorrow morning, my best friend Joe and I are hittin' the road, straight across I-40, heading westward to Cal-ee-forn-eye-aye. Should normally only take about 3 days, but we have plans on stopping in Arizona to see the Grand Canyon...don't think my buddy has ever seen it and I've only been once, so it's a must for us. For the past several weeks, I've been hanging with close friends and soaking up as much of this city's goodness as possible, in order to fill my being to the absolute brim with Memphis soul. Trips to my favorite BBQ spots, soul food restaurants, dive bars and late night joints have taken up the majority of my time and my plate is certainly full. Stay tuned...
Whatever Happened To...
...the days when someone jumping onstage in the middle of a performance would warrant an ass whoopin? Just wondering. I can remember my father telling me that if someone ever does this to you, it's the ultimate sign of disrespect and should not be tolerated. Well, in today's society, it's a behavior I'm seeing more and more of. This weekend's show marks the third time in the past six months this particular thing has occurred while I was in mid-set with a group and it has me totally perplexed. I just don't get it and this time the culprit was (apparently) a musician himself or rather, a rapper who is known for this sort of rude behavior. So much so, that audience members and folks throwing the party were used to his antics and showed no look of surprise when he completely took over during our last song of the night, grabbing the mic in the middle of the tune, shouting expletives in a drunken, garbled voice. When asked nicely, "Hey man, can you please let us finish our song?" his reply was, "Naw, it's cool!"Hmm, really? Well, how about a kick to the balls...would that be cool?
Time Heals
It's true. Many years ago I was in a terrible quandary and wasn't sure what to do or how to make the right decision. I had just been accepted into a music school out in Los Angeles and for a young man of 23, the west coast sure did seem like a wonderful and enchanting place. As the saying goes, when it came to the idea of living in Hollywood, I had stars in my eyes. This was my second attempt at getting into this school and the second time I'd been accepted. My first try was a few years prior and even after I received my acceptance letter, I chickened out and never left town. Time went on, but something kept gnawing at me to go for it one more time, so I did and I got in, but this time I was leaving and nothing was gonna keep me from it. The trouble was, I'd been playing drums with a band called Big Fish for almost three years and things were going pretty well for us. We'd just signed a development deal with a production company in Nashville and were in the middle of working on a demo to shop to record companies, when I just up and split town, leaving no word to the guys in the band as to what my plans were. It was a stupid, cowardly act and I knew it, but somehow I feared that if I didn't leave right then, I would never make it out of Memphis and I was willing to take the risk of burning a few bridges to see my dream fulfilled.
I'd felt that same fear grip me several times in my past. I remember once my dad took me to Sears for a new pair of cowboy boots and I was too excited. I'd been watching a lot of old westerns with him and we were both big fans of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and all the great cowboys. My personal favorite was Lee Van Cleef. He just had that look that said, I will kill you and that's what I dug about him. Total baddass. Anyhow, Dad and I made it over to the shoe department and right away he found just what I'd told him I wanted...brown leather with a square toe, just like they wore in the movies. He told the clerk my size, but Dad hadn't realized that I'd grown a couple of inches since my last pair of shoes, so when the guy came back with my size, I tried them on and they didn't fit. But I didn't say a word even though my toes were getting squished in the top of that boot. Something came over me right then and I just knew that if I told them that those boots didn't fit, then I wasn't going to ever get a pair. It was like they were the last ones in the world and they were gonna be mine whether they fit or not. "How do they feel, son", Dad asked? Great, I said! And that was that. A few weeks later, my dad noticed I hadn't been wearing my new boots and asked me where they were and when I told him that they didn't fit, he just about lost his mind.Kids.It's funny to me that after traipsing the U.S. for more than 15 years, taking up numerous residences in San Diego, LA, NYC, Jacksonville, New Orleans and Austin, I end up right back where I started from all those years ago and it makes me wonder about my life, how it's mapped out. It's so crazy. Anyway, upon my return home, I was surprised and happy to learn that my friend Andy still had the band going and had made quite a name for himself in the Mississippi casino circuit. When he found out that I was back, he quickly made his way out to one of my gigs and we were reunited once again. He said he liked my trio very much and couldn't believe how much I'd changed from that skinny little kid he knew so many years earlier. Smiling, he embraced me and I was so glad he'd forgiven me. A few months passed and one day he called to see if I might be interested in coming to play with them and I was overjoyed.
Although the members may have changed some, the music is still very much the same and we've now shared the stage together dozens of times. I feel lucky to know these guys and have them as my peers. My motto is, don't beat yourself up about the decisions you make. Just make 'em and keep moving on, even if you feel you're being selfish. Time will take care of the rest. Take it from me.
How Lucky We Are In Our Friends
Nearly one year ago, my girlfriend and I broke-off our five year relationship and it was a painful time, to say the very least. We'd been planning on getting married and had been engaged for almost two years, but somehow things just didn't work out for us and that's how life goes. It's taken me a while to come to a good place with it all and I can honestly say that I feel okay with my decision to leave her. She and I had gone through a tremendous amount of life, given our short time together... a year of flirting, a move to New Orleans, Hurricane Katrina, ten months in Austin, three homes in three different cities...all in the space of five years. Pretty remarkable and yet, even though our paths forced us to separate, I feel good with having only memories of my time with her. I am finally at peace with it all and I know my old friend is living her life on her own.During our breakup, my mind was all over the place and seeing as I was having to find a new place to live and money was very tight, the first thing to go was my gear and any extra I had lying around. It proved to be a good decision in most cases and I was able to put together enough for a deposit, as well as first and last months rent to help me get the new digs. No big deal. I still had plenty of drums to go around and nothing was important enough that I was sad to see it go...that is, except for one item in particular...a Craviotto snare. The day I let this one out of my hands was a very melancholy afternoon and I felt awful the moment it left the room. The person who purchased it from me however, is a very close friend and made the promise that should I ever want or need this drum back, he'd happily return to me at the same price he paid. Of course, at the time I said NO! that is silly and it's your drum now, don't worry about it, etc, etc. Well, to be honest, I have missed that drum like you wouldn't believe and even tried to buy an identical one recently but ended up returning it cause the sound just wasn't the same. This drum, call me crazy, is special and has an amazing vibe to it. I've never heard another one like it in all my years of playing and I've owned quite a few snares.Anyhow, the other day I asked my good friend if it might be possible to borrow the drum for a couple of days cause I had a recording session and he happily obliged, no questions asked. I went and picked it up, brought it into the studio and WHAM! Immediately, everything lit up...my Rogers, my Agop cymbals, the other cats in the band, everyone was suddenly aware that things were different. Even the producer came walking in the room inquiring about the drum cause he could hear how differently it sounded than my other one and I knew that I somehow needed to get this snare back into my arsenal, but it wouldn't be easy. He and I have given away and traded things to one another for years, but I knew how happy he was when he bought that drum from me.I rely on my friends a lot and if anyone ever needs anything, I try my best to be there for them. But lately it seems as though my buddies have been showing up at my side just when I need them the most. As difficult as it was, I figured there wasn't any other way around it that was gonna be easier than just asking him for it. When I made the call, he happily relented with a smile on his face.
Sometimes we make mistakes and sometimes things come back to us.
Change... Is It Truly Possible?
They say our personalities are molded when we're infants and that we're already shaped by the time we reach puberty. Which means, in my case, that I became this lazy, arrogant, selfish, egotistical, emotional, asshole when I was a tiny boy and there's just no other way out of it. I am who I am. Wow. So, if this is in fact the gospel, then it makes sense to me because I've been struggling with the same flaws in my character for as long as I can remember and I don't think I've really changed all that much. I know that I want to do things differently and will often get started on something, but somehow can't ever seem to stay focused or motivated long enough to find that finish line. The beginning is usually really strong too, with all the piss and vinegar of a young man, lots of attitude and determination.Shit, I can name 20 different things I've gotten excited about through the years...started on them, then lost interest. It's been going on just about as long as I can remember. If you were to open up my head, get inside my brain and pull out these memories, lay them out on a table, they'd look like a junkyard of old cars up on blocks, each one in various states of completion and disrepair. Yoga, karate, swimming, running, biking, reading, writing, teaching, and so on.I've talked about doing drum clinics, traveling around the country as an instructor, doing group classes with other drummers, my own peers, offering students a chance to see and hear us all play with the same band, each with our own individual personality and approach to the drums. Then giving each student a chance to interact and actually participate with that same group of musicians. How much fun would that be? Even came up with a name for the class...No Boundaries, I called it. I have a notebook with five pages of crap that I wrote down, how I would structure the lessons, the cats that I wanted to be involved and folks that we'd invite to come out and demonstrate. It was gonna be big. At least in my mind. Why can't I get to it and why does it have to be just my words on pieces of paper? I often wonder about my own death and the aftermath...if friends and family will find my stuff and laugh and cry about it all, or is my situation really just normal and are there scores of people just like me dealing with the same frustrations? I don't know, but I'm in a constant state of wonder about it all. Do I have ADD or is that just a bunch of b.s.?Just about the only two things I've ever been able to stick with in my life is playing the drums and quitting smoking, the latter of course being the most difficult of the two. I'll always be a drummer, there's no way around that, but quitting cigarettes was a tremendous struggle and one that I never thought I'd manage, but somehow I did and it's been more than 10 years since I had one. Congratulations, me. I see that as an accomplishment and I'm proud of it, but I wonder why it's so hard to find the motivation for other things in my life, like getting into shape or going back to school to get that degree I always wanted, or starting back on the Polish class that I'd been so good at all those years ago. My teacher once said that my accent was so good, if she didn't know me she'd have mistaken me for a real Polish speaking man. Alas, I didn't stick with it and now I can barely say hello.I had a therapist, a wonderful old lady, tell me one time that I will never be a focused individual and that I should just accept the fact that I am who I am. It hit me hard and I was upset and want so bad to be able to prove her wrong. To call her up one day out of the blue and tell her about all these wonderful things I've started doing and have become good at. How disciplined I am, diligent, hardworking. Jesus, I torture myself about this mess, daily.Not long ago, I ran into a man that I had met once or twice through my dad when I was very young. My memory of this person was that he was very big and extremely overweight, probably obese. It's been more than 20 years since I'd seen this person and I didn't recognize him at all because he looked very thin and healthy, with a big smile. It was amazing. He told me that he'd tried numerous diets, heath plans, exercises, groups, therapy, all of it. His was a classic case and he just couldn't get rid of the weight, until someone recommended he try hypnosis.It worked and in a big way. He told me that his whole life changed right away and he even liked it so much that he went to study it and is now a certified instructor in hypnotherapy out in California. To me, this is inspiring and makes me wonder if something similar would be possible if I were to try it for myself. Maybe I, too can hypnotize my brain and become this person I've always wanted to be. I better hurry though cause I've got a birthday coming up soon and I'm not getting any younger. Look out world, here I come! Or maybe I'll just save that thought for another day.
Scotch
Many a connoisseur will tell you that it starts out as a simple love affair, where you're having a bit of fun, but before long it becomes an obsession that runs out of control until you're hooked. For me right now, it's this wonderful sampling of what my friend called, the poor man's single malt. Black Bottle. Yum.
Is it too much to ask...
...for breakfast at noon, or a really good 24-hr diner, or for Sugar In The Raw, for an iced coffee in the Summertime, for some attention when I walk into a restaurant or cafe, a waiter or waitress with half a brain, or steak sauce for my t-bone that I ordered off your menu and a smile rather than a scowl when I ask for it, a bloody Mary that actually has some vodka in it instead of 4 ounces of Sriracha "to give it that extra spice", for pedestrians that don't walk in the middle of a busy 6-lane avenue causing me to slam on my brakes in panic and nearly crashing with the cars in front of me, or for police officers that don't run red lights, a city whose citizens care about the arts and culture who don't look at me with disdain and bewilderment as I bring my drum set into the bar where I am scheduled to perform and they are casually enjoying a drink with friends (as if I was put there to completely disrupt their idyllic lives), or musicians who actually have respect for one another and don't jump up on stage in the middle of my performance like some crazed opportunistic mad man jonesing for a chance to show off their weak ass skills (there's a reason you got into this position in the first place, jerk-off...hint: you can't fucking play!), for a venue that pays for their own sound and door person instead of "taking it off the top" making the bands suffer even further in a troubling economy, or a real entrepreneur with vision that thinks of building a stage in his/or her venue and then adds it to the blueprints before construction begins, not as an afterthought a month after the grand opening, leaving us musicians no other choice but to set up an entire band on the floor where any drunk patron can easily walk up during a performance and fuck with us, "Hey, y'all play some Skynyrd!", for a venue to employ adequate security guards and bouncers who are alert and have a performer's back when the crazy drunk lady gets out of hand and starts throwing silverware at the band from an upstairs balcony, for a manager who would find behavior like this appalling and forever ban said patron from ever returning, rather than giving her a smile and telling her, "Go on home now sweetheart and sleep it off and we'll see you soon", or for people to stop using phrases like, "It's just a Memphis thing"... is that too much to ask from my city?I'm not angry. A little spoiled perhaps, but not angry. I just wanna know.
Opening And Closing Doors
I'm not sure what it was exactly, but something came over me a couple of days ago in regards to this place, my city, that made me feel different inside...deep down. Almost like a voice said, "Everything is gonna be okay" and I was instantly relieved. I had just been to see my ex-girlfriend, Sara, whom I'd spent five years with and was engaged to, but broken up with not more than a year ago. I was there to drop off some music to her and she informed me that she was now seeing someone. Well at first, there was this pain and then grief, but it soon changed to happiness, as I suddenly realized she had in fact moved-on and was living her life. For me, it was the closure that I needed so badly because I had been holding on to this thought in my head that maybe, just maybe one day soon, we would be able to see one another again and work through our differences. That this year apart from one another was all the time we needed to realize there was still something between us, that the bond was still strong. Sadly it wasn't, it's really over and I was glad to have finally reached a place in my heart where I felt good about that. The feeling washed over me.Strange, too because for several months I've been fighting this urge to wanna pack up and shag ass outta here to someplace else, Chicago, San Fran, NYC or maybe even Europe. New scene, new people, new friends, different surroundings, nothing familiar, but I know I'd just be running away from my problems instead of standing up and facing them. This has happened before. Back in '91, I quit my old band, broke things off with a long-time girlfriend and left Memphis, headed (first) for the West Coast, then New York and elsewhere, spending fifteen years trying to find "it" in different cities. That "it" was actually right here, inside me all along and is now waking up again and speaking to me. I believe it's my soul.When I first moved back to Memphis four years ago with Sara, it was like rediscovering this place through someone else's eyes because she completely fell in love with the city. For a while, things seemed new and different, we were having a great time but upon closer inspection I came to the realization that nothing had changed and I felt a tinge of sadness that the city hadn't progressed very much at all and it seemed as though people were still struggling, especially artists. It made me want to leave and when she and I broke off our engagement, the feelings grew. Where could I go? The search began and for months I looked all over this country, talked to dozens of good friends and to my surprise, most of them were going through the same trials as me. Musicians, as well as people in other professions, everyone was feeling the pain of a troubled economy. It seems to be a widespread thing, happening here as well as every major city in the country, maybe even the world.If I sit back for a minute, I can easily remember all the places I've lived and what my life was like at those moments. It's pretty much always been a struggle, but mostly a good one, so seeing as how I'm back in my own hometown, why not just dig myself in, get comfortable and work my tail off to make a noise right here. As far as the everyday stuff, rent, bills, food and fun, it's pretty easy to live here on a small income, which is about all there is. But I've got my band, The City Champs, a brand new record is coming out in a couple of weeks, we're hitting the road, there's also the new jazz trio with Chris and Jim, which is gonna be playing out soon. Not much to complain about really. As tough as it might be to get by, I hear that voice and that feeling hit me...I am exactly where I need to be, right now, so relax, take a deep breath and know that everything is gonna be alright.
New Trio
Not really sure where this will go, but it's exciting to have some different cats to play with and doing the stuff I've been dreaming about for a long time. Two of my good friends, Jim Spake and Chris Parker have been rehearsing with me, off and on for a couple of years, but we've never done a gig. I figured it was time to change that, so I booked one and it's in a few weeks, so we've got some time to suss out the material. It's good shit, too...we've got Hank Crawford, Art Blakey, Horace Silver, Monk, Herbie Hancock, Eddie Harris, Lou Donaldson, just to name a few, plus there's some original material that we're all bringing to the table, as well. So, I'm very excited. Parker, Sluppick & Spake. It's catchy, right?
A Renewal of Vows
Down in Natchitoches, Louisiana this past weekend, my father, "Big" George and his lovely wife, Judy celebrated their 20th year together at a small church, along with family and close friends. They walked (or rather danced) down the aisle, hand in hand, with big smiles and dressed to the 9's. Everyone was in tears at the beauty of the moment, me included.
The next day, the two of them got in their car and headed over the New Orleans for a second honeymoon. How cool is that? I love my dad.
I am fortunate to have a loving family, as crazy as we all are.
3 Days
http://vimeo.com/15574759Taking a break and getting out of town for a while can give you a different perspective on things, your life, the environment, your career...it's a good thing to do. Many of us don't get those kinds of opportunities very often, especially if there's family involved. Personally, I'm single, no children and I live alone. My job encourages me to travel and I jump at every chance I can get to do just that. On Sunday, I hit the interstate for a couple of hours, headed to Little Rock where I spent three days with a good friend of mine, writing and recording music. It was a nice time and a much needed retreat from this city. Being in his home with he and his wife, their four year old daughter, a dog and a cat made me feel grateful for the amount of freedom that I have at this moment in my life, to be able to pick up and leave town without there being any worry is a luxury. I am thankful for that. Tomorrow I'm going to visit my folks in Louisiana for the weekend and, along with my aunt and uncle, help them celebrate their 20 year wedding anniversary. How lucky I am.
Cars
Mine is very quickly becoming a pain in my ass. I've spent nearly $3,700. on it this year alone and several hundred last year. Just about had enough with this thing. This was the 4th time this year that it's broken down, also the 4th time I've had to call AAA for a tow truck, and when I got it over to the repair shop, the mechanic told me that the battery cable was loose due to a shitload of corrosion underneath and that's the reason it wasn't starting. Wow, really? That was all that was wrong with it. Geez. Which means, that the guys at the shop in New Orleans, that had it for a month, tuning it up and charged me 1,400 bucks didn't have the courtesy of cleaning the frickin things and putting them back on tightly. Ain't this a bitch. You can't buy good help today and just when you think you have, you get slapped in the face, while they're sitting back laughing at you. Thanks G-n-K Automotive, in Metairie, LA. Yeah, I just called you out. I'll be sure and let all my friends down there know what fine work y'all do on cars.
The folks I really wanna be giving thanks to (besides AAA!) are not in Nola, but right here in Memphis at a little place called, A Not-So-Used Truck Rentals and their wonderful mechanic extraordinaire, Norm. Thanks, buddy! I'll never go anywhere else, I promise.
What the hell does Elvis Presley have to do with Stax?
Ok, so my good friend Cass was in town, visiting from New Orleans yesterday and wanted very badly to go to the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, and I was more than happy to oblige, as it's one helluva a place. She brought her friend Daron along and the three of us set out for good times. First stop, Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken. Daron commented on the fact that they added an apostrophe "s" at the end of the name and we all got a good laugh outta that. But the food, service and atmosphere were as stellar as the fried green tomatoes and we couldn't have been more full after that meal. In fact, there was a moment when we considered not visiting the museum and just going home to take naps. Yeah, it's that good. If you're ever here visiting, go there. It's worth it.About an hour later, we're parking the car and walking through the back lot and into the front door of this sacred ground that is Stax and I'm excited because I've been here before but they haven't and I know what they're in for as newcomers. The clerk at the front counter asks us where we're from and we tell him that Cass and Daron are from Nola and that I'm local. He smiles and tells them that their admission is $12.00 each, but that mine is free and I ask, "huh?", and he tells me that locals get in for free on Tuesdays. Cha-ching! This day is getting better.
There's a 20-minute film that starts the tour off that gives you the entire story in brief. It's heavy and if you've never been to this museum before, let me first warn you that it's an emotional place and that you may wanna bring along a handkerchief or some tissues. I definitely got some use outta my bandanna and I'm glad it was in my back pocket. The story is so compelling and I tear up every time. Cass and Daron were both feeling it too. But there's a lot to be happy about there too, like seeing Al Jackson's Rogers drum set, or Duck Dunn's bass, or all of the recording gear that's lining the walls. Hearing Otis Redding's voice in the main room, as he booms over the speakers in the studio outtakes that play continuously. Simply fantastic. Hundreds of recordings, memorabilia, old stage clothing, videos, Isaac Hayes' gold plated Cadillac. Damn! We were having a ball.
Anyhow, fast forward about 90 minutes and we're nearing the end, when all of a sudden Daron quickly comes walking over to me and says, "Dude, there's a giant Elvis exhibit in the next room!" WTF? Seriously? Wow. And sure enough, he was telling the truth because I turned the corner and staring me in the face was an entire two-room exhibit of huge, framed black and white photos of the King of Rock. I was floored. Daron looks at me and is wondering what the hell Elvis has to do with Stax Records and since we were at the end of the tour, we just went straight up to the folks at the counter in the front lobby and asked them. They informed us that, "Well, Elvis did record here once", which I did not know and was super surprised to learn, and that the last exhibit in the museum has been rotating with different shows every month. This month just happened to be the King's turn. Daron actually told the lady that his feelings were kinda hurt, which I thought was hilarious. I mean, come on we're at Stax for cryin out loud, not Graceland. There's enough of Elvis everywhere you go in this town, we don't need to see him at Stax.Just my two cents. I love him, don't get me wrong, but there's a time and a place.So, we head home and my friends are somewhat in a funk now and I am feeling kinda puzzled at the whole thing. Here we are having a great time looking at all of this stuff and reading about these peoples lives in this wonderful world of soul, then the very last thing we see is something that seems so out of place. I dropped my friends off at their hotel and headed out to my casino gig with my head down, wondering what was going on, then decided that I needed to find out, so when I got home I jumped on my computer and looked it up and sure enough the lady was telling the truth. Elvis DID record there, twice in 1973. Holy crap, and the Beatles were scheduled to be here right before him, but canceled the session due to the fact that the news of them coming to Memphis had created such pandemonium that their management decided it was a bad idea. Who knew? I did a Google search and found an interview where Steve Cropper said, "Taxman would have been Staxman". Memphis would have been forever changed if that had happened, but we still got the King.I guess this means I gotta go in search of these mysterious Elvis Stax sessions now.