Epistemic Ingemination

I think that I’ll just let my partner-in-the-dance Eddie Wilson take the helm today… he says it better than I can hope to.

It took all day Thursday for Wednesday night sink in. Earl Poole Ball’s musical talent, combined with his years of experience at the helm of modern American music is turning the rekindling of “Sittin’, Singin’ and Supper” into pure magic.

Old friends and new joined in the round robin of picking and harmonizing and they played like Threadgill’s Old Number One was Carnegie Hall.

Chojo Jacques is back in Austin after three decades and came by to visit Randy. Thirty-five years haven’t done Chojo any visible damage. I recognized him before we could shake hands. His fiddle playing is about as good as it gets. He recently released a CD with Billy Bright and has been touring with Slaid Cleaves.

Stonehoney and Josh Zee of the Mother Truckers made newcomers to the Hump Day Supper Session wonder if they’d waked up in Heaven. When they sang perfect four-part harmony on a version of “She,” Gram Parson’s love note to Emmylou, it was especially poignant given that Earl was the piano player on the original recording with Gram.

Barbara K and Rich Bowden performed a couple of beauties including the gorgeous Blaze Foley classic, “If I Could Only Fly” with Threadgill’s own beautiful veteran manager, Melanie Bounds.

The audience was filled with the kind of people that keep me from ever staying away for more than a heartbeat; Stan Alexander, who hooked me on music at Threadgill’s in 1961, promised to bring his guitar this Wednesday; Ann Seaman, working on a film follow up to her huge biography of Madelyn Murray O’Hare; Dorothy Martin, sister of pal Don Hyde, one of the most important and overlooked figures in the development of Austin’s counterculture; too many more to mention now because I have puppy duty in the park and it is a glorious day. Hallelujah and I hope to see you on Wednesday evening and any time between now and then that you happen upon a hunger.

P.S. Stonehoney said they are putting together a Gospel Brunch set and I let them promise to the heavens that they intend to show up and play. I didn’t break it to them that Brunch is before noon on the morning that immediately follows Saturday night. We’ll see.

Chojo will be there on Sunday morning (11-1) as well; it’s going to be extraordinary. We’ll be doing the Wednesdays for a long, long time, 7-9 PM. Add ‘em to your weekly sanity maintenance routine. It’s pure, real Austin music wonderfulness.

I have a bean! I might get two!

So, it’s the summer of 1970; I am newly 12 years old, at my uncle’s house in Dallas with Not A Lot To Do; it was a great vacation. One afternoon, I go and poke around my college-freshman cousin’s record collection. He was off at South Padre with his custom dune buggy. Or something similar.

Anyway, I came across an album with a very disturbing cover. Cool. I put it on. Listened to both sides. Listened to both sides again. And a third time.

You have to understand that the #1 song in the country was “Close To You” by The Carpenters at that time; it was what I knew. This thing kicked me in the side of the head like a mule, and changed the game forever.

Saturday, Oct. 10th, 2009 is the 40th anniversary of the release of the album entitled “In the Court of the Crimson King (an observation by King Crimson).” I still have it on vinyl, and in great shape. One of my few material possessions that I’ve taken care of over the years.

Enjoy.

King Crimson – In The Court Of The Crimson King

Let’s see. What have I been doing, besides Not Posting To My Blog?

Lots of stuff. Most importantly, I have been pulling away from political concerns. (Finally!) The level of political discourse in this society has reached a point where even a self-aware ten-year-old can see the lies. I’ll have none of it for the time being. It’s as if the most pressing, serious problems in this country are being debated by blind deranged monkeys playing whack-a-mole. I’m not strong enough to wade into that level of effluvia every day, and I am a better man for it. I’ve even signed off of the most intelligent mail list with which I’ve ever been associated. I just can’t do it for now.

Music stuff has been going great. This year I’ve worked with M.Ward, St. Vincent, James Polk, Hayes Carll, James McMurtry, the Dave Matthews Band, the Southwest Regional Folk Alliance, XM Radio, Jimmy LaFave, Kerrville, Iron & Wine, the Folk Alliance, Pearl Jam & Barbara K. Many others. I am a very, very lucky guy to have the privilege. I love to enable genius; it’s what I do best. They all seem to like me okay, too. Maybe I’ll be a success at this stuff someday.

Home stuff is cool, for the most part. We’re finding our feet en re education. I don’t want to invade my son’s personal space too much; let’s just say that we’re engaging in an applied philosophical experiment that I’ve talked about before. Even if we fail, he ultimately wins.

I can recommend without reservation a “cookbook” called Ratio, by Micheal Ruhlman. It is the most remarkable foodie book that I’ve ever encountered, and it is quickly becoming as essential in the kitchen as a knife to me.

My buddy Gunnar is in town, and he brought lobsters, which we ate with relish (the adverb, not the noun) last week. Clarified butter, smoked-sea-salted asparagus and dill-bacon baby potatoes accompanied. A lobster stock was forthwith contrived, which, a few days later, turned into the best seafood gumbo that’s ever magically appeared in my kitchen. The Foodie Gods have smiled upon us this week.

My girlfriend is the most kind and tolerant person you’ve ever seen, even in the face of gawdawful Male Stupidity, and she has the prettiest eyes in the history of the human race.

That’s all for now.