A Summertime Salute to Rounder Records

Summer is the perfect time for bluegrass. I can't think of any other music that sounds better outside (on second thought, just about all of them do.) My first exposure to bluegrass (not counting "The Beverly Hillbillies") was the Tall Timber String Band, featuring Phil and Vivian Williams, still going strong today. I was a radio baby, so I didn't understand why bluegrass on stage sounded so different from the dry and dusty stuff I found on LP. Skip ahead a year or two. I hear The Holy Modal Rounders for the first time. The HMR took old-time standards and added psych-o-delic (and often "blue") lyrics. Then there's Peter Stampfel's voice -- nasal, whiny, and not particularly concerned with the right key. It wasn't until I heard old-timey Uncle Dave Macon that I realized that's where that voice came from. I'll deal with the HMR in depth later; my point here is that years after the HMR debut, Rounder Records (yes, named after the Holy Modal Rounders) released a 'comeback' album called "Alleged in Their Own Mind" in which Peter slandered partner Steven as a speed freak, a liar and a thief -- in their own liner notes!!








The Real Music Box is a set of 4 double CD sets, all of which are available separately as two-fers. My favorites are "Hills of Home" and "Hand-Picked". There is a bonus disc in the box set, featuring a selection of lesser-known (and mostly unavailable on CD) artists. Plus you get the great book that shows the early days of Rounder, selling LPs out of the box at bluegrass shows.

There are several record labels that have managed to sell music based on our trust in the label itself; ECM, for instance, or Windham Hill in the early days. Rounder belongs in that august company, and it's not for nothing that Alison Krauss still records on Rounder even though she's probably received many more lucrative offers.

Son of the Ghost of Firesign, Part Three

So...we mingle with the library folks, clap politely as donors are thanked, then David and Phil spy the wine bar, and they're off. Holy crap, I know nothing about these guys personally -- are they gonna get royally tanked before our program ?!? (No, they don't.) Later as we head out the exit, we're talking about all the local dot.com millionaires who've managed to make way too much money off e-commerce and e-banking and e-business, and I chime in bitterly "Yeah, what a bunch of e-holes!" Phil laughs so hard he practically falls over. "Did you just make that up?" (expressing the time-honored fear of the comic that's he's stolen, unconsciously or not, someone else's material). I assure him that yes, I just thought of it. (Surreal moment #2.)




Ten minutes to showtime. David & Phil are off to the side of the stage, still fine-tuning what they'll perform. Other than Program Guy, myself and Judith, the place is completely empty (there may have been a rogue waiter or two still cleaning up from dinner). Turns out that WLA has a "comedy" program of their own: librarians read their 'learned papers' on 'humorous' topics. Everyone who should be at our program is there instead. Program Guy and I both are prostrate on the stage, asking God to kill us now.

God spares us, people eventually trickle in. Oblivious to the skimpy crowd, D&P are sweet, hilarious and genuinely thought-provoking. Phil uses my joke and points me out to the crowd, afterwards fans line up to have albums signed, Program Guy and I are in a PTSD shell-shocked state, eventually we get to thank David and Phil, and Phil signs my program "You are NOT an e-hole!"



Postscript: the next morning, riding the elevator down with David & Judith and assorted library people (Phil lives close enough that he left after the program), someone turns to me and says "E-holes, huh?" Yes, that evening was all about me.

Phil Austin and David Ossman were professional, gentleman, poets and deeply funny people. I am so glad that I got a chance to be there that night.

PPS: Thank you to my lovely and talented wife Deoborah, who offered editorial assistance for this latest 3-part blog. Thanks, doll, you're the best!

Bride of the Night at Firesign Theatre, Part Two

I explain to Phil A. and David O. what we're hoping for , maybe a fifty minute program along the theme of the library conference, we'll pay a (ridiculously small) fee -- and they agree.

The big night. We have no idea what to expect. David arrives, then Phil. I unofficially become Phil's 'minder', and Programming Guy (PG) squires around David. David & Phil huddle to sketch out what they plan to do (some Firesign material, some of David's poetry, excerpts from Phil's as-yet-to-be published masterwork, bits of plays and reveries they've performed before in similar situations).






There's a dinner a few hours before showtime, and they graciously share the table with my boss & his wife and a few Whatcom County Library staff. David's wife Judith (who manages the sound system) joins us. Phil's wife, the enchanting Oona, remains at home.
Phil and David continue to huddle on and off during dinner, but still take the time to be charming dinner guests.

Since they're performing in that very same space later, Judith stays behind to set up the sound system, so PG & I escort David and Phil around the conference center. We head to a wine reception that's a 'thank-you' to big library donors. It's in a two-story glass-enclosed building, and since the donor panel speakers are on the mezzanine level, as we walk towards the building , our ground-floor view is everyone facing our way, gazing upwards. Says Phil: "I have a bad feeling about this..."

Nights at the Firesign Theatre, Part One of Three

For the uninitiated, well, how can I describe The Firesign Theatre, four or five crazy guys that took a love of old radio shows, dosed it with whatever was being served in the '60s, and alchemically produced radio plays on LPs that grew in depth the more that you listened. I was talking about the TV show "Lost" with someone a while ago, and I claimed that "Lost" was written knowing full well that TV shows were being packaged as DVD sets -- the show was packed with obscure asides and references because they knew that people would watch them many times over. With LPs, Firesign had the same canvas -- a medium that could bear repeated listening.
I'll go more into The Genius That Is Firesign in another post; this one's about the live experience.



1993: FS have reunited for a 'back from the shadows' tour. It's a love-fest. The Paramount is full of fans quoting the material as it's performed, and it's celebratory, not obnoxious.

Cut to 2000. I'm a member of the Washington Library Association, and they've just announced the theme of their conference: R/evolution. The blurbs they provide strike me as familiar -- isn't this what FS talked about in their albums, the future as past, media as a tool of propaganda and commercialism -- wow, wouldn't it be great if they could be part of this? So I e-mailed the program coordinator guy, and he says, "That would be perfect! (he's a fan) -- do you know them?" Umm, no, but I know that one lives on Whidbey, and another lives on Fox Island -- maybe we can at least get those guys to show? So, with no introduction, I decide to get in touch with Phil Austin and David Ossman. Emails, faxes, even letters are sent out. Then one of the most surreal moments of my life: Phil Austin, voice of Nick Danger, calls me at the Ferndale Library. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. Can you even imagine hearing that voice calling you on the phone? It was like I'd become part of one of their routines...

Cheap Seats, Penultimate Chapter

So many shows, such a limited memory...thanks to all who have entertained me over the years: Neil Finn, Bonnie Raitt (early days with Freebo on bass), Yes & Donovan (both as opening acts, one waxing, one waning), the Kinks (late model), Carlos Santana & John McLaughlin, Richard Thompson with Danny Thompson at the Lincoln in Mount Vernon, Ella Fitzgerald, Trevor Pinnock & the English Concert at St. Mark's in Seattle (they trashed the altar), the Jam, Alice Cooper (pre-arena), the South End String Band, Leon Redbone & Leo Kottke, and who can forget the unknown opening acts for James Taylor (who is Carole King?) or Bette Midler (who's that guy with the huge honker on piano -- someone named Barry Manilow??) And thanks to all the bands I've forgotten, big names and no names, music performed inside and outdoors...
Even though this little series has been about the big names, hearing live music transcends categories like that. The last live performance I saw was 3 weeks ago, three 8th-grade kids who knew a total of 4 songs - and I was captivated. There's plenty of fine music to discover.







The Backstage featuring John Martyn
1993, just a few days shy of my birthday, my wife and I see live in concert a man that I consider to be our marriage counselor. John himself would probably be the last to suggest he was qualified to give advice, and I just mean that his records accompanied our early dating, our serious dating, our wedding, our eternal honeymoon -- poor guy was dragged every step of the way. The Backstage was tiny, so you either saw bands there on their way up (see Alison Krauss following) or... well, not on their way down, exactly, but maybe with a little loss of cachet. Especially if they could perform solo (easier to divide the check.) John Martyn had some rough years behind him (musically), but with his late-in-life artistic resurgence, his body finally started to break down after too many years of over-indulgence. The John we see that night had matured, his humor and stage banter no longer at odds with the emotional impact of his songs. But Johnny had grown into a big boy: the tent he wore would have made Mama Cass blanche, and by then he was using a cane.
He's gently good-humored, he plays all the old favorites that in a better world would have made him a fortune, and he drinks only enough to be charmingly lubricated.
You'd think this evening would be burned into my brain, but my wife and I both recall only the certainty that we had been part of a perfect evening. I did hear that there's a bootleg around of this performance... that would be a treat. Always nice to see our John.







Meanwhile, Back at the Backstage...
I've said this to a few people, but I'd swear that everyone in the room the night Alison Krauss and Union Station performed at The Backstage knew that we'd never see her play a space that small again. You don't really expect a bluegrass artist to break big, but we saw big talent on the stage that night. She was funny with a dry wit (with the occassional pinch of goofy), she was articulate, the boys in the band all treated her like their kid sister --- and we all heard the debut of "Oh, Atlanta" a song that allowed her voice to belt one way beyond the bluegrass fence.








One of Our Top Three
...would have to be...David Lindley and band (El Rayo-X) at the 3B (or maybe it was the bar before it was the 3B) in Bellingham. David's mix of surf/James Bond/Eastern exotica/50's rock & blues slide guitar and dub & reggae sounds like it'd be a world music disaster, but that night, the stars aligned, the 'hamsters danced their Grateful Dead twirly dance, and the house was seriously rocked, all by a man with a serious polyester problem.

Another View from the Cheap Seats

Face to Face With Elvis Costello
There was a series of "emerging artist" shows at the Paramount, cheap tickets for new talent. I went with record store buds rather than my girlfriend (now wife -- yes, come-uppance is on the horizon). Elvis was touring in support of "This Year's Model", his break-through (and some say defining) album. He and the Attractions are on fire; some years later I found the bootleg album of this show and it confirmed everything I remembered. Elvis was at his best.

Show over, I head out an unfamiliar exit, and now I'm part of a group who have discovered the tour bus. We stand, we wait, we wait some more. Eventually, a back door at the Paramount opens, and Elvis heads toward the bus and our line of supplicants. I'm not more than 6 or 7 down the line, and I face off with Elvis. Nothing to sign, just me and a goofy grin. Elvis gives me a few seconds, shrugs ("Whatever, mate") and moves on. Later I realize I had my ticket stub he could have signed, but Elvis is on the bus and the line disperses.

Come-uppance: my girlfriend/now-and-always wife (G/NAAW) is with friends at a Seattle pub; she sees Elvis walk in. He settles at the bar for a short drink, surveys the scene, and eventually moves on. Her Elvis experience is far richer than mine; I am chastened.






Van the Man? Not So Much...
Van Morrison's known for many things: his amazing catalog of songs, his dislike of the music industry, his Celtic soul and his love of American blues and R&B. Unfortunately, he has been known in the past for some dodgy performances. He can be transcendent, he can be awful. It depends. I saw Van (the Paramount, again) and it was like there was a Van imitator standing way at the back of the stage, lip-syncing the songs. He's not moving, I can barely see him -- is it a life-size cardboard stand-up? Three or four songs into it, The Man Who Is Probably Van leaves the stage, the band comps instrumentally for a bit, realize he's not coming back so they do an instrumental version of "Moondance" and then they leave the stage. We are pissed off (no refunds!) and word comes back that Van has the flu or something...

Next Van sighting is the Wavelength tour. He's not sick, but, well, this is a transitional period for Van, trying to sound more contemporary for pop radio, so not much in the way of fireworks on stage. The best moment occurs when Rockpile opens (Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe in full rock-rock-ROCK! mode). Amps are turned up to 12, and hordes of hippies seated for Van rush to the back of the auditorium ("Too loud!! Too loud!!!")







Aw Jeez, "The Circle Game"?? Why Not "Kumbaya" ??
Joni Mitchell touring with some kid named Jackson Browne. He's not bad, she's pretty good, but then we have to stand up and sing "The Circle Game" ("and the seasons, they go round and round, and the painted ponies go up and down.."). Not the best moment in an awkward first date. (Later I realized, my gosh, that first date was a Joni Mitchell/Jackson Browne concert -- I should be in the Boyfriend Hall of Fame!)

Bonding, Part 2
I've been to Bumbershoot several times, but the ones I enjoyed most were when I went with my son. We usually go our separate ways on and off throughout the day, but managed to reunite in time to see: Foo Fighters (with guest Krist Novoselic joining for the encore of Prince's "Purple Rain" -- hey, we saw 2/3 of Nirvana!), Sonic Youth, and the reunited Sex Pistols. You don't know true joy until you can stand side-by-side with your son as Johnny Rotten calls us all wankers.







Aqualung on the Monorail
I've seen Jethro Tull a couple of times in their earlier years, up through the Aqualung tour. Ian was still wearing the greatcoat, and stood on one leg with less effort than he does now. I arrive for a show at the old Seattle Center, and since it's early, I hop on the monorail -- and at the very back is a motley collection of biker dudes in black leather. Wait, that's Ian and the boys out to explore Seattle a bit! Do I say anything to them? Heck, no (see Elvis Costello above), but hey, I rode the rails with Jethro Tull! (Apologies to Bowling Joe for the repeat).

Coming up: yes, I will finally blog about John Martyn at the Backstage, plus, Alison Krauss (also at the Backstage), David Lindley and El-Rayo X in Bellingham, and the most sublime Firesign Theatre experience ever!

Life in the Cheap Seats: A Series

I regret that I get to fewer and fewer concerts these days, but here's a look at some of my more memorable experiences in the concert halls:

My First Concert


I was barely 16, in Seattle with friends. They opted to see "M.A.S.H.", just in theaters. I wasn't old enough to get in, so I decided to head to the Moore Theater, where instead, I saw Frank Zappa and the Mothers. Holy crap! Was there anything in "M.A.S.H." that was worse than anything I heard on stage that night? I don't think so -- this was Frank in the first run of the 'Flo & Eddie' years, the tours and albums that resulted in critics dumping on FZ for "teen porn" -- this was the tour that featured lurid tales of band/groupie interaction involving sea creatures at the Edgewater Inn in Seattle. Yikes!! A few years later, I saw Frank with his Grand Wazoo band, his own version of a (small) big-band outfit. They were legends, fully equipped to pull off Frank's complicated charts -- but the calls for "Mudshark" kept coming, and Frank was actually pained -- "Oh, you don't want us to play that, do you?" But the calls continued, and Frank, obviously embarrassed, told the band "It's a blues -- just follow me.."
Footnote: I saw FZ probably 3 or 4 more times. At one show (it may have been the Moore Theater one), some drunk comes on stage, brays for a while playing the piano (how did this guy get on stage? Why does he have access to a piano? Oh Frank, such a clever guerrilla-theater moment!) until he's subjected to audience harassment and leaves the stage. Many years later, I realize he was Tom Waits (he and FZ shared the same manager).

Other Concerts (and an Amusing Disaster)
Working in a record store, I got a lot of free tickets. Promoters thought a full house (even though 1/4 were free) was better than a sparse audience.
So I got to see whatever the record companies were pushing at the time: The Boomtown Rats, Rachel Sweet, XTC (great), the Police (boring -- we left after 3 songs), and my favorite, Rubicon. They opened for the Rats, I think, and it was a total mistake. They were touted as a super-group of second and third line players -- the most famous was Sly Stone's sax player. They played bad (as in terrible); eventually, the sax guy complained that we were a bad (as in terrible) audience. At that point, the front rows (all record store people) taunted him and the band by acting as if Rubicon was the ROCKIN'EST BAND EVER!! Whenever the singer would point to the crowd, they'd point back, meanwhile fake-dancing up a storm, disco moves, total rock abandonment -- they did it all. It was like 'improv theater as revenge' from the audience. Totally awesome! (Rubicon left the stage soon after.)




Best Concert(s) Ever?
The late, lamented Rainbow Tavern in Seattle. My girlfiend/now-and-always wife see Loudon Wainwright III ( around the release of the album "Unrequited"). It is incredible. When I first mention this blog post about favorite concerts, she says "Oh, Loudon". He's hilarious, he's moving, he's utterly captivating. Show's over, we're outside, and we both say "Let's stay for the second show!!" Back in line, in for free, another hour or so of greatness.

Best Bonding
Dazzled and enchanted by John Fahey, guitarist, folklorist, magician, once again at The Rainbow. Long, long, mesmerizing medleys and improvisations built on blues, folk, Russian classical music, and John's own fertile brain. I take a restroom break. Guy at next urinal: "Isn't he just so great??"
Men do NOT talk to each other in public restrooms. Side-by-side urinal use does NOT mean a bond has been formed. Yet, this night, whether beer has been involved or not, broke the rule. Who knows, if my bladder had cooperated, I could have been standing next to John Fahey instead...

Next: Elvis Costello, John Martyn, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Van Morrison again, and Jethro Tull on the Monorail!