bovinehost
Administrator
I'm sitting at home this morning, thinking about stuff, mostly about how I'm going to sit around all night and swill martinis...the wife says, "It's for you, it's Sterling."
Big Poppa informs me that I have a mission! I am to hunt down one Rodney Crowell, and reports are that he can be found in my area, and once I locate this Crowell fellow, I am to retrieve, if possible, a Collins acoustic guitar, last seen in BP's living room.
Some more information is exchanged. Aha! This Crowell guy has a band, and they are performing at the Granada Theater...BP has connections and I am to go there, give a secret password ("I'm Jack Williams") and the good folks there will give me access to the performance and this Crowell person. So far, so good.
7:00 pm: phone rings. It's a familiar voice. "Why aren't you at the Granada Theater?" Apparently BP is prone to micro-managing! Uh oh! "I"m waiting on my friend, Ray Duke." We blah blah blah, hang up, there's Ray in my driveway and we're off.
I give the secret password: "I'm Jack Williams." Friends, this works like a charm. They give me a VIP bracelet, a sticker for my shirt and lead me to the VIP section, which is as far from the stage as one can get without actually being in the men's room. But this is good! From the stage, Crowell will never know I'm there!
We sit through an opening act. Macon Grayson, I think. They have promise, although their bassist likes to toss his hair to and fro. Ray and I disapprove of such things. The drummer tends to rush things, and this we also do not like. By and large, we decide amongst ourselves, they are "okay" but we wish they would "shut up".
Finally, Crowell and Company take the stage. Whoa. Wait a damned minute. I was expecting, I don't know, roots or Americana or some East Houston hooligan music! These guys are SMOKIN'. One of the guitar players, who I believe is called "Kim", is wielding an EBMM GUITAR!
(Yes, fellow bassists, the rumors are true. EBMM makes GUITARS.)
Both of the guitarists are on fire. Crowell is belting out rock and roll and, indeed, playing a Collins acoustic. The drummer appears to be a 1/2 size human but plays with serious authority. The bassist has a Will Lee sort of look, is good, but is playing a F#nd#r. Ray and I are confused! EBMM guitars, yes! Crowell, rock and roll, yes! We are definitely going to talk to this bassist about "things".
After the show - and it was very, very good, and I highly recommend you all see this Rodney Crowell band if you possibly can - we loiter suspiciously in the backstage area. The guitar players appear, and I decide to be forthright about certain aspects of our mission.
"I'm on a mission from Go....er, Sterling Ball", I say, and you can see something in their eyes. Fear? Respect? No! It is confusion!
I speak to Kim (if this is in fact his real name) at some length and he likes the EBMM guitars a LOT. I decide he can be trusted, even if he does play guitars.
The bassist appears. I would like to remember his name, but I do not. I make snide comments about F#nd#r and remind him that I have been sent by Big Poppa. "You need a Bongo", I say. "I'll go get you one, or you come to my house now, and let's be done with this foolishness."
To my surprise, he says, "I'm going to SLO later this month and Brian is going to show me some basses." WHAT? He knows one of the secret words! (Brian.)
Meanwhile, Rodney is out front, sucked into the maelstrom of fans who want autographs. The Collins guitar appears, being carried by a "roadie". Ray gives it away! "There it is!" he cries. "Let's get it!"
The roadie tries to pretend we aren't there, but now he is forced to pay attention.
I deflect attention by speaking to the bassist about his equipment. "You need to try a dual pickup Stingray 5", I say casually. He admits to liking Stingray 5s, so write this down, Brian.
Eventually, Rodney Crowell appears and I stick my hand out. "Sterling Ball sent me, something about a guitar that has disappeared from his living room." I look stern, or perhaps not.
"Hah hah", he says. Then, using some secret magical power, he totally disarms me by being extremely nice and saying he knew I would be there.
While I am distracted, the Collins is removed!
Seriously - BP, thanks for everything. Rodney Crowell is one nice guy, the band seriously rocked, we were VERY impressed and we had a fabulous time.
You guys, you forumites? Catch Rodney and entourage if you can. I'm going to order the newest CD, "The Outsider", within 24 hours or my name isn't the secret password.
Jack
Big Poppa informs me that I have a mission! I am to hunt down one Rodney Crowell, and reports are that he can be found in my area, and once I locate this Crowell fellow, I am to retrieve, if possible, a Collins acoustic guitar, last seen in BP's living room.
Some more information is exchanged. Aha! This Crowell guy has a band, and they are performing at the Granada Theater...BP has connections and I am to go there, give a secret password ("I'm Jack Williams") and the good folks there will give me access to the performance and this Crowell person. So far, so good.
7:00 pm: phone rings. It's a familiar voice. "Why aren't you at the Granada Theater?" Apparently BP is prone to micro-managing! Uh oh! "I"m waiting on my friend, Ray Duke." We blah blah blah, hang up, there's Ray in my driveway and we're off.
I give the secret password: "I'm Jack Williams." Friends, this works like a charm. They give me a VIP bracelet, a sticker for my shirt and lead me to the VIP section, which is as far from the stage as one can get without actually being in the men's room. But this is good! From the stage, Crowell will never know I'm there!
We sit through an opening act. Macon Grayson, I think. They have promise, although their bassist likes to toss his hair to and fro. Ray and I disapprove of such things. The drummer tends to rush things, and this we also do not like. By and large, we decide amongst ourselves, they are "okay" but we wish they would "shut up".
Finally, Crowell and Company take the stage. Whoa. Wait a damned minute. I was expecting, I don't know, roots or Americana or some East Houston hooligan music! These guys are SMOKIN'. One of the guitar players, who I believe is called "Kim", is wielding an EBMM GUITAR!
(Yes, fellow bassists, the rumors are true. EBMM makes GUITARS.)
Both of the guitarists are on fire. Crowell is belting out rock and roll and, indeed, playing a Collins acoustic. The drummer appears to be a 1/2 size human but plays with serious authority. The bassist has a Will Lee sort of look, is good, but is playing a F#nd#r. Ray and I are confused! EBMM guitars, yes! Crowell, rock and roll, yes! We are definitely going to talk to this bassist about "things".
After the show - and it was very, very good, and I highly recommend you all see this Rodney Crowell band if you possibly can - we loiter suspiciously in the backstage area. The guitar players appear, and I decide to be forthright about certain aspects of our mission.
"I'm on a mission from Go....er, Sterling Ball", I say, and you can see something in their eyes. Fear? Respect? No! It is confusion!
I speak to Kim (if this is in fact his real name) at some length and he likes the EBMM guitars a LOT. I decide he can be trusted, even if he does play guitars.
The bassist appears. I would like to remember his name, but I do not. I make snide comments about F#nd#r and remind him that I have been sent by Big Poppa. "You need a Bongo", I say. "I'll go get you one, or you come to my house now, and let's be done with this foolishness."
To my surprise, he says, "I'm going to SLO later this month and Brian is going to show me some basses." WHAT? He knows one of the secret words! (Brian.)
Meanwhile, Rodney is out front, sucked into the maelstrom of fans who want autographs. The Collins guitar appears, being carried by a "roadie". Ray gives it away! "There it is!" he cries. "Let's get it!"
The roadie tries to pretend we aren't there, but now he is forced to pay attention.
I deflect attention by speaking to the bassist about his equipment. "You need to try a dual pickup Stingray 5", I say casually. He admits to liking Stingray 5s, so write this down, Brian.
Eventually, Rodney Crowell appears and I stick my hand out. "Sterling Ball sent me, something about a guitar that has disappeared from his living room." I look stern, or perhaps not.
"Hah hah", he says. Then, using some secret magical power, he totally disarms me by being extremely nice and saying he knew I would be there.
While I am distracted, the Collins is removed!
Seriously - BP, thanks for everything. Rodney Crowell is one nice guy, the band seriously rocked, we were VERY impressed and we had a fabulous time.
You guys, you forumites? Catch Rodney and entourage if you can. I'm going to order the newest CD, "The Outsider", within 24 hours or my name isn't the secret password.
Jack
