Mind the Gap

We spent this past weekend in Abilene and Buffalo Gap, helping my dad celebrate his 70th birthday. The burgeoning tourist locale that is Buffalo Gap, where we stayed, has led to the opening of several nice B&Bs. Quality visiting time, and quality food were the themes of the weekend. Again, Happy Birthday, Dad!

We swam at Abilene State Park. Here is Zach, about to flip from the high dive. You may have seen a photo sequence in another blog post, since I was able to get it loaded in the correct order. The pool was nice, and many structures in the park were built in the 1930's by the CCC. That's government stimulus spending at its finest, and still paying dividends.

We had dinner at Perini's, which has some of the best steak you can find. Out front is the giant armadillo, which was not there the last time we ate at Perini's. I'm certain I would have remembered a 45 ft. armadillo.

After dinner photo of the family:

Carrie and Jay:

On Saturday morning, we went to the Grace Museum in downtown Abilene, where they had an Ansel Adams exhibit. It was inspiring, and I was trying to be an artist when I took these shots from where I went for a run between Buffalo Gap and and the "town" of View early Saturday morning.

In case you missed it, I was going for a wind motif.

Peace,

JS4

Radio, Part One

Standing in the crowd during the Shannon McNally in-store at Waterloo last week was Jody Denberg,the former music director of KGSR. Until Jody left the station in December, KGSR was great radio. Now, with the exception of the ever infrequent local artists that they manage to work into the playlist, KGSR is nearly indistinguishable from the classic hits station, BobFM. Every time I hear them playing Pink Floyd, or The Cars, I want to puke. I kinda like Pink Floyd and The Cars, but they don't belong on KGSR. I did not talk to Jody after the show because someone else had his attention, but I wanted to tell him that he was missed. I'll bet, and I hope, that he hears that a lot.

I've only spoken to Jody once, and that was at the first KGSR Christmas Party that I sneaked (I like the word "snuck," but it seems to be a non-word) into. Back then they held the party at the Austin City Limits studio at UT, and just getting in the building was the tough part. I really wanted to see Patty Griffin that night in December, so I waited until most of the show was over, and drove down to the studio building. As luck would have it, someone had propped open a side door (probably to smoke), which allowed me access to a stair well. I climbed the 5 flights of stairs to the studio level, and walked in with a group of other people who had taken a restroom break. Too easy. I was in.

At that point, there really wasn't anybody whose job it was to be a hard ass about security. It was dark, people were enjoying the show (Patty had just taken the stage), so I just found a place on an open bleacher seat. Oh, and there was still free beer left, so I grabbed one. The show was great, and when it was over I walked down to the floor, where Jody Denberg was standing. This was basically his show, and a few people were chatting him up. I waited until they moved on, walked up to Jody and said, "That was a great show, and I had to sneak in just to see it." He stepped back just a bit, to see that I did not have an admission badge around my neck. He then stepped toward me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Man, I'm proud of you. I'm glad you made it in tonight." He knew that I had filled the seat of a person who hadn't cared enough about the music to stay for the whole show. I thanked him and left.

18 months ago, I got myself into the KGSR party with a bona fide pass. Now the party is held in the ballroom upstairs in the Texas (UT) Union. They have more room for sponsors and their ilk up there. More sponsors means more older people leaving early. The building is wide open, but security to the ballroom is pretty tight. So I go upstairs and wait until an older couple exits and is heading down the outside stairs. I follow them at a non-threatening distance until I am sure that they are leaving for the night. Before they get to the main "Drag" crossing, I approach them most respectfully, saying, "Excuse me, are y'all leaving the show?" They are, they say, and I ask if I might have one of their passes. The woman hands me her pass, which she hasn't even put on, because the adhesive might have ruined her fancy dress. I can't thank them enough; I slap that pass onto my shirt and walk into the ballroom. I get to see full sets from The Bodeans and Alejandro Escovedo, and there is free Bar-B-Que and beer. If I could just get Carrie to join me on these outings, they would be even better.

The station still hosts great events like Blues on the Green, and Unplugged at the Grove, but the soulless quality of their broadcast day leaves a hole in Austin Music. 750 people have joined a Facebook page called, "I love KGSR, but please bring back the old format." God Bless 'em, but social media cannot turn back the clock, and the corporate tools have test marketed authentic radio into the grave. So sad.

Two random thoughts:
1) I don't want to diminish the suffering of the people in the Northeast U.S. They are not accustomed to the heat, which has been deadly. But I heard that a "heat wave" is defined as three or more consecutive days above 90 degrees. Okay, around here we call that "April."

2) I know a little about geography, but it confounds me how Holland, The Netherlands, and The Dutch can be all the same country. No wonder they are killing in the World Cup (that's soccer). I always thought Trinidad and Tobago had an unfair advantage, but these guys have taken it too far. If they beat Spain in the finals, while wearing those little wooden shoes, it will be time to break up the three headed monster that is the Holland-Dutch-Netherlands juggernaut.

Peace,

JS4

A Post With No Name (It Felt Good to Get Out of the Rain)

A couple of events of note since I last blogged:

1. My Dad had his shoulder surgically replaced in Dallas last week, a few days before his 70th birthday. All seemed to go well, for which we are thankful, but we do hope that this surgery represents his last annual trip to Baylor Hospital for major surgery.

2. Winston the repair man finished his work on the back of the house. Then it rained. Water leakage under the back door. Winston, very responsibly, has been back to re-repair the seal under the new threshold, and will return tomorrow with some weather stripping. Then perhaps, a water hose test, 'cause who knows how long until the next rain.

Carrie and I did make it to the Paramount Theater to see "Lone Star," the 1996 John Sayles (written and directed) film about life and death in a border town in Texas. If you've never seen it, you should watch it two or three times. If you've seen it once, as Carrie and I had, it is so worth seeing again. Even characters who are on screen for a short time come across with real depth and complexity. It is like Larry McMurtry could write a book based on this movie. As the story unfolds, family histories and racial divides are revealed in sometimes funny, but more often poignant or painful scenes and flashbacks. This movie is just as good as it was 14 years ago.

Lloyd Maines can do pretty much whatever he wants to do in the Texas music scene. He produces records, and sits in to play with a number of artists. Unofficially, he has appeared on Austin City Limits more than anyone else, always as a side man, not the star of the show. For 13 years or more, his regular gig has been in support of San Marcos songwriter Terri Hendrix. After all that time, they play off each other perfectly, both musically and with the banter between songs. I just think it is cool, and says something good about each of them that even without big financial success, they keep making music together, and do it because they love it, and seem proud to be associated so closely with one another.

I've seen Terri perform probably a dozen or more times since 1998. The first was a Waterloo in-store for "Willory Farm," still my favorite of her albums. She does not seem to smile as freely while she plays as she did back in those days. She's just as kind and appreciative as ever, but it is as if life and the music biz has beaten her down a little over the years. The songs are thoughtful and well-crafted, and she is worth a paid admission if you get a chance to catch a show.

I'd seen Shannon McNally a few years ago at an in-store, in the pre-blog days. Then, it was just her and Charlie Sexton on stage. As a duo, they may have been the most physically attractive pair to ever grace the Waterloo stage. Now she's got four ugly dudes in her band, and she's not trying so hard to look hot, but I am still impressed by her live performance. She's like a Tupelo Bonnie Raitt, all soulful and southern. When she goes high, she's just a couple of steps away from a full yodel. She apparrently took some time off to have a child, and in the meantime she was honing her guitar work, because she was not shy about playing lead. If her show at the Continental Club that night had started at a reasonable time instead of midnight, I'd have made the trip.

If you've heard of Tokyo Police Club or Passion Pit, you are way younger or hipper than I am. I tried to go to an in-store show that featured both bands, but no luck. A throng of cool looking kids were lined up around the corner, braving the heat an hour before their sets. No way was I getting in the door. It was a quick reminder that there is a ton of music out there that is passing me by, but Waterloo caters to the "download generation" now and then.

Peace, JS4

Flashbacks a Go-Go

The first live music I saw this summer was Nneka (pronounced Nek-eh), a Nigerian-born woman who played a noon show at Waterloo. I would call her music Afri-folk, eventhough the press called it hip-hop. Obviously hard to classify, as world music so often is, her songs were hearltfelt and earnest, political and personal. The band played understatedly beneath her vocals, with the keyboard setting the tone with pop-like major chords, but kind of wandering behind Nneka's singing. Hard for me to describe, since I lack a musician's vocabulary, but really good.

With it being a noon show, there was no free beer. But there was free lunch! Austin's Pizza delivered a stack of their best pies. You can see my second helping, resting on the CD case. For best results, rotate your screen 90 degrees.

Kathy Valentine played bass with The Go-Go's back in the day. Now she lives in Austin, and is one of two guitarists with The Bluebonnets, a "girl group" that can rock with the boys. Guitar-driven-no-ballad-garage-rock is what they do best. The songs and the vocals were good but not great, but they all could really play. When the two guitarists took over on their last song, "I'm Losing my Man," it gave a glimpse of how much fun seeing them in a club might be. The bass player is the only one of the four that plays up a sexy image, but they must know that what they do is substance over style, not in need of a gimmick.

While the blog is about fun, real life does intrude on a regular basis. Summer becomes the default

time for all procrastinated projects. Since this one is both major and photogenic, I decided to include it on JaySummer4. I hope to post some "after" pictures soon. I've been pretty homebound while Winston the Repairman does his thing, but if all goes well, this evening will include a Terri Hendrix in-store, and at least one movie at the Paramount Theater downtown.

One last thing about Waterloo Records, and its owner, John Kunz: After thanking everyone for coming out to see The Bluebonnets, he reminded us that End of an Ear was having its 5th anniversary celebration that day, and encouraged us to go help them celebrate. End of an Ear is another independent record store, just a couple of miles from Waterloo. They are his COMPETITION, and he's giving them a shout out, saying, "We're all in this together."
That's class.

Peace,

JS4

Summer of 2010: Welcome

Oh, where to start...?

Well the Summer is supposed to start at Trudy's, on the first day with no school, this year a Wednesday. The picture below is of the Trudy's parking lot on that day. Plenty of parking, no? That's because they're no longer open for lunch or breakfast, except on weekends. Change is bad.

Plan B worked out fine, as Carrie and I went to El Chile on Manor Road, for the requisite margaritas, nachos and quesadillas. They have a nice covered patio, good food, drinks and service, and feels more like a neighborhood place, instead of the hipster hangout vibe it had when they first opened.

Welcome back to the blog. I've been out of school for nearly three weeks, and this is my first entry of the Summer of Jay 6. I view the blog as a celebration of Summer; more specifically my Summer. In previous blogging summers, I've been in the mindset of the celebration almost immediately after school ended. This year, for a number of reasons, it has taken a while to become inspired, and I did not want to force it. But I've taken today, the first official day of summer, to begin again. I thank you all for your patience, and for your requests for the resumption of the blog.

Let's get to the music. For years, Waterloo Records in-store performances have been my favorite way to sample a wide variety of music. I go to in-stores during the school year, but the pace picks up during the summer.

Of the two main guys in the local band The Gourds, Kevin Russell is the better songwriter and performer. He has a solo project that he calls Shinyribs, which sounds just like the best stuff from The Gourds.

Sometimes music sounds like where it comes from; think Motown and Detroit, the Beach Boys and California. Well, The Gourds, Shinyribs, and Kevin Russell sound like South Austin. For this nearly one hour set, Russell seemed more clean-cut than usual, with a trimmed goatee and a clean shirt, but the music was pure South First, Tex-Mex Mile, South Austin. He turns a casual phrase, like he's your slightly embarrassing uncle, but there is genius in how simple he makes it sound. It is also fun to see a guy unafraid to switch out his electric guitar for a song or two on the ukulele.

Josh Ritter seemed very much like a kid when I saw him last week. He is 10 years younger than I am, but that, sadly, no longer qualifies one for kid-dom. I'd heard of him before, but was really not familiar at all with his music. I looked him up on Wikipedia, and his background is interesting. Useless fact (if Wikipedia can be trusted as factual) : he was married last year in Branson, Missouri. Funny, he did not seem at all like a hillbilly redneck biker for Jesus.

His first three songs were void of any pop-sounding hooks, and he seemed to be more interested in showing off his songcraft. He followed that with more fan friendly folk/pop, going completely solo for his full set. The store was nearly full, and he held the room's attention well, not an easy task, even when the place is full of fans. He impressed me because he was playing later that night at a sold out show at Antone's. He could have cruised through a short set and left, seeing how there was no need to further promote the show. Instead, he played for an hour, was more than gracious, and gave John, Waterloo's owner, a big ol' hug before and after the set. Nice kid.

Sage Francis is nearly the same age as Josh Ritter, but a completely different kind of performer, though he also took the stage solo. I'd read that Francis was a hip hop artist, but that's not what I saw. No music, just poetry, delivered in a hip hop, freestyle way, but definitely not your garden-variety hip hop. It was more like a guy who had won poetry slams for 5 years running, getting semi-famous, and going out on tour. With a gig later that night at The Mohawk, he was intense, political, engaging, and only rarely slipped into paranoia about the government. With several dozen fans in the audience, I was thinking that the crowd was younger, more disaffected, and more likely to download music than buy a CD, than any crowd in recent memory at Waterloo. It was different than other shows at the store, but he threw a verbal barrage at us with undeniable intensity, which made it well worth being there.

Pictured below is Annie's, a breakfast, lunch and dinner spot on Congress, just across from Manuel's. Carrie had half of a huge burger with fries, I had a chicken salad sandwich, and both were very good. It's a nice place, with lots of natural light from the multi-windowed storefront. We have been there a few times, but have never sat outside. It looks like a delightful place to enjoy the street scene, but it was way too hot, and judging by all the empty tables, everyone else thought the same thing.

If you have read this far, you are obviously a committed blog reader. Thanks. Check in as often as you like. I may post a few times a week, or I may combine things into one entry per week. Either way, I hope you'll be back, and that you enjoy another Summer of Jay.

Comments are always welcome. Needed, craved, etc.

Peace,

JS4

Beat the System

Follow up to the last post, re: the money on the ground at the Blanton Museum.

Among the scenarios I considered were the prank/psychology experiment; that someone had accidentally dropped the cash; and that it was left as a random donation to the museum by a good citizen. It was Halloween morning, so this last possibility reminded me of the family who leaves the bowl of candy on the porch, with a note that reads, "Please just take one piece."

I liked the suggestion that I would pick up the money, and put it in a donation box (or I could have returned later to donate it). I wish that's what I would have done, but after 15 miles, that level of cognitive sophistication was beyond me.

The theory that I had to stop and pick it up in order to know for sure that it was only two dollars was a good one. But I did not stop; I only slowed a little, to confirm what I thought I'd seen. As I ran on, I thought about the slight possibility that some larger bills were hidden behind the ones, but I never checked.

What my "decision" about the money came down to was more about Karma than anything else. If the money was left by someone with the intention of it going to the museum, then I should leave it, hoping it would end up with the intended party. Two dollars makes no real difference in my life, so to pick it up and keep it would be a petty and selfish act. And as much as I try to foster an image of pettiness and selfishness, I did not reinforce that image in this instance. I decided to leave the money for "fate" to sort itself out. If it ended up as a donation to the museum, great. If someone who really, really needed it picked it up, that's okay, too. If someone who did not need it at all picked it up and kept it, well, that's between them and the universe. I'll never know, and I can live without knowing.

On Friday evening, I gave Carrie a kiss and headed down to the Erwin Center, to see if I could weasel my way into the AC/DC concert. The fun started when I parked the car between the arena and the Capitol. Older folks in patriotic outfits (think 4th of July meets Halloween) were leaving the capitol grounds. That's right, the Tea Party crowd was leaving their pep rally, and walking alongside people who were headed to the AC/DC concert. It was a perfectly peaceful mix, but there was no way to confuse the two groups, and I would bet that there weren't many who were actually attending both events.



I have spent enough money on big-time, big-money, big-arena concerts in my lifetime, and just being in the building for a major concert is not worth the money anymore. But sometimes the spectacle of a show draws me in, and I try to get a cheap ticket. I long ago got over the "loser" feeling that comes with going to a concert with only 16,000 of your closest friends. And getting a really discounted ticket depends on buying a single seat. Over the years, I have paid $10.00 to see the Dixie Chicks, $20.00 to see Bruce Springsteen, and on Friday I managed to get a $97.00 ticket in the lower level for AC/DC for $20.00.



Step 1. Wait to bargain until after the concert has started.

step 2. Set your price for upper or lower level seats (know the section #s), and be fully prepared to go home without seeing the concert. I've had guys meet my price only when I was walking back toward my car, keys in hand. And I was not bluffing.

Step 3. Find a scalper on the edge of the action, away from the other sellers. Peer pressure works against you, as these guys don't want their buddies to see them get worked.

Step4. Don't be an azzhole. Take advantage of simple supply and demand, but don't be insulting. Many of these guys would rather eat the ticket than sell it cheap to a jerk.

I saw this happen when I first arrived on Friday. The buyer was a young guy who did not follow Steps 1, 2, or 4. A direct quote from the seller: "I'd rather roll up this $100.00 ticket and smoke it, than sell it to some punk for $25.00."



Half the fun is getting in, but AC/DC is still getting it done, even if they are 25 years or more past their prime. They never slow it down for a "catch your breath" ballad, and the balding, horribly ugly Angus Young never stops, period. Just 5 guys with a signature sound, and a full house, feeding off the raw energy. Special effects included cannons, a giant bell, a replica train,
and an inflatable "Rosie." Oh, and some pyrotechnics that had me little worried. I wonder if the UT people knew about, and approved the fireballs. They played for at least two hours, and I left when the second encore, "For Those About to Rock," went a little long. I might have left before that, but I really wanted to see them shoot off the cannons. Good times.



Next month, I hope to blog about how I got myself into KGSR's Christmas Party. I've gotten in three times; once with a ticket, and twice through, uh, other means. I'll let you know.



Peace,



JS4

Post! (Mostly Running Stories)

Our story today begins with me saying that I have no real sense of the existence of the phenomenon known as the "Runner's High." The act of running never really feels effortless or easy to me, even when I'm enjoying it, as I have during the last few weeks of nearly perfect weather. I believe that I more often experience what I call "Runner's Dementia." This disorder has led to lost eyeglasses, lost keys, forgotten car locations, etc. During the worst of the heat of the summer, I was running with my mp3 player, returning to the house at the end of long-ish Saturday run. Saturday was our day to water the lawn, under drought restrictions imposed by the city. So before going inside for my post-run water and chocolate milk (yum), I took off the mp3 player to set the water sprinkler on the front yard. A few hours later, I realized that the mp3 player had never found its way inside the house. And when I looked for it, and I mean everywhere it could possibly be, it was nowhere to be found. "Runner's Dementia" strikes again.




I have bought another cheapo mp3 player, but haven't yet programmed it for operation. Still feels like scary new technology to me.









Some people get tired of running on the trail around Lady Bird Lake, otherwise known as Town Lake, or the Colorado River, not really a lake at all. I find myself drawn to it, especially for after work, evening runs, when I need a little natural beauty to get me going. It is often worth it to fight traffic through downtown, just so I can do 8 or 10 miles on the trail. Then I'll drive home, just after dark, to get my chocolate milk (yum), a shower, and a wonderful home-cooked, Carrie-cooked meal.









The trail is well loved by runners, cyclists, and walkers. I think there are fewer cyclists than there used to be, because with all the runners and walkers, the cyclists have to work to keep from smashing into the pedestrians, breaking their momentum. Sometimes the walkers get on my nerves, especially when they stroll three or four abreast, blocking the path that I want to take. Dog walkers can pose an even greater problem, especially those with dogs on retractable leashes, when they don't retract nearly enough.




Last week, I came upon a group of three women walking a very young dog, energetic, and on a not-retracted-enough retractable leash. This little dog was play/chasing a couple of bigger, more mature dogs close by. The hyper little guy ran right in front of me, and I had to stop on a dime in order to avoid tripping over the retractable leash. Then, he cut between my legs, wrapping the leash around my right leg twice, as he was flirting with, or pursuing the other dogs. The women were very apologetic as they helped untangle the dog from my leg. I somehow refrained from becoming verbally abusive, saying only, "Oh, this is great!" And, "Shorter leash next time." No blood, no foul, I guess.







Sometimes the human interaction on the trail takes an unexpected, and positive turn. On Thursday, I was four miles into an evening run, when I came across three guys in their 20's, throwing a football around. This was over by the youth baseball/softball fields by the mile 6 marker for the trail. The QB for the group was standing right next to the trail, and he heard me approaching from behind him. With the ball in his hand, he set into the "taking the snap" crouch, and timed a three-step drop perfectly with my approach. I was ready to take the hand-off, or sell the fake, whichever play he was running. It was a fake, and I smiled at the way he had set the thing up. Then I hear him say, "Run the fade." Are you kidding? I look back over my shoulder and he's looking right at me, his arm cocked to fire a pass my direction. I follow the trail, which was a perfect fade route, and make a "don't blow this" catch of his slightly under thrown ball. All three guys cheer as I flip the ball to the QB's friends, and I run on, with my arms stretched over my head, in the "touchdown" signal. Just like we drew that play up. And, hey, if I'd had my mp3 player, I doubt any of this would have happened.

On Saturday, I was running back home from the trail, through the UT campus. When I passed the entrance to the Blanton Museum, there were two slightly crumpled one dollar bills a few feet from the entrance doors. The museum was not yet open, so there was nobody in the immediate vicinity. It was so odd, and I spent the rest of the run thinking up scenarios for how the money had ended up there, and wondering if anyone had seen the money before I got there. Some scenarios were mundane and boring, others quite the opposite.

When you leave your "So glad to read a new blog post" comment, tell me if you think I picked up the money, or left it on the sidewalk.

Looks like the Yankees are going to win another World Series. If you see this as a bad thing, thank you for being a decent human being. If you are celebrating, know that this is the only situation wherein I wish my friends misery. If you are indifferent, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

Peace,

JS4