Raz 10 is officially under way. By officially, I mean that I picked up my special-ordered four cases of Shiner Bock cans. And a carton of Marloboro Mediums.

I’ve had four of those Shiners and I’m ready to call it a night, though. Call me Mr. Lame. I’m just bone-tired — too much bidness going on. But that’s a good thing. Bidness is good. Better than no bidness, anyway. A good night’s sleep will do wonders for me, too.

In a sense, tomorrow at 3pm is the official TFG wahoo kickoff — that’s the end of the last day-job conference call. I’ll try to remember to take some pictures, too.

The Coyote documents a slight melt-down at a small festival, but from the other side of the stage.

Lord knows we’ve had our share of melt-downs in the last four years, generally caused by the blazing Texas sun. Typical problem - boiled transformers, from pulling WAY too much juice for the stage components. That means the light company has to come out and replace the big bucket up on the pole, which takes a minimum of two hours. And that’s two hours (or more) with no music. We did this twice, until personal embarassment and the promise of more shows drove me to add a new pole and transformer and 350 watt electrical system for the stage guys a year ago.

Then there was the time the well pump overheated and shut down, leaving us with no showers and unflushable terlets until it got dark and cooled down.

Then there was the time we got a howling gully-washer in front of a cold snap that swamped the campground for a few hours. We were mainly afraid to touch anything electrical after that one for an hour or two, but it happened early, so nobody missed anything. Except for the tents that blew into the river. Everybody was scrambling for long pants that evening, since the temp dropped about 30° over the course of the day.

Now, here in Year 5, I feel confident we’re going to get through the weekend with minor damage. And that if anything does go non-linear, well, we’ve got a great crowd that’ll pitch in to fix things or at the least, not shoot the organizer. Come on down and join us.

OK, kiddies…should have sprung this on you a month ago, but nobody who reads this ever comes out anyway, so it hardly matters. Here’s the deal:

Billy Joe Shaver, Davin James on Friday; Ben Wright and Los Jackcats, Steve Fromholz, Experimystics, and Raz his own self on Saturday. We still have room for sponsorships, starting at $250, if you want to get your business banner in front of 500 peeps. Drop me a line, and we’ll get you hooked up.

Fromholz is a fresh addition. You might recall Steve had a stroke almost two years ago. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that he’s recovered and coming to play. He’s a genuine Texas genius, a true poet. If you don’t know his work, you’re missing out on a vital part of Texas Outlaw music history.

I also got some bad news from Raz today: John Nitzinger has had a stroke and won’t be playing this year. My pal Spike was asking about John’s schedule just today. I’m saddened to hear this bad news on a number of levels…John has had some rough old times, like recovering from cancer in 2003, but last year he seemed to be coming back as strong as ever and put on one hell of a show at Raz 9. It’s just heart-wrenching, personally, having Nitzinger in my orbit as a big part of my youth (underage & sneaking into Sneaky Pete’s in Medallion Center, anyone?) and then re-getting with it when Raz brought John to the festival. Fuck, man…just fuck.

I wrecked the El Camino
Should have been DWI
But I walked off and left it
Laying on it’s side

You can tell he’s a West Texas boy. And that’s he’s Larry’s boy, too…

One of the bad things about blogging is that I get so damn tired of finding different ways to say the same thing. So all I’ll say (again) is that you must read Jack Sparks if you like real country music. Hell, if you like music, period.

On the other hand, if you like the shrieking idiocy that is Big and Rich, well, you should probably go read Jack, too, so that you’ll understand better why I don’t think very much of your musical taste and am more likely to question your thought process in other matters, as well. As always, a taste:

2. Big & Rich. Genre-blending originality, commanding stage presence and a sense of fun (and humor) have meant that Big Kenny Alphin and John Rich’s motto should be “Save a Genre (Take Some Chances).” Thursday at We Fest.

There’s nothing original about these guys. Their stage performance is derivative of everything Kid Rock’s been doing for many years now. Take some chances? “Save a horse, ride a cowboy” has been a FUCKING BUMPER STICKER for decades! Let’s all drop the pretense, these edgy guys who happen to record for the equally edgy independent little shop called WARNER BROTHERS FUCKING RECORDS are an attempt to tap into–albeit about a decade later than they should have–the suburban, white, hip hop market, Wal-Mart Hip Hop.

Small & Crappy are just the latest example…nothing personal, really, except — oh hell, it is personal. Money spent promoting those talent-free hacks is money not spent on others who advance the art and deserve the promotion. Guys like, oh, I don’t know — pick one — Kevin Deal.

Straight-ahead, good-times, Hammond organ and wah-wah pedal Texas Funk, by Mickey and the Soul Generation. Every good boy and girl needs ‘em lots of this…

(5mb, and worth every download second)

(Here’s the album it came from if you want more. Which you do, right?)

On the recommendation of someone, and pursuant to this mess, I’ve downloaded and installed iTunes to manage my musica. Now it’s sitting there gobbling up files, and massive CPU cycles, with the message “Converting [bloody well everything]“. No ‘from’ or ‘to’ info…just ‘converting.’ And the cute little GB indicator is creeping skyward.

I feel kinda queasy.

NOT SO BAD UPDATE: WMA files, that’s what it was. Only added half a gig. Which, is one hell of a lot of storage, if you’re where I’m from. And as usual with these new musica program installs, I unearthed a whole butt-load of stuff I haven’t listened to in years, like Beck. I played the everloving hell out of Odelay…still stands up. Sonic Youth, same thing. Sad to have lost track of so many threads of genius. Couldn’t tell you what SY is up to, but I killed two Walkmans playing Daydream Nation back in my sysprog days (actually weekend nights, but you know). Not that much different from the iPodders of this strange new world, except I would have needed a flat-bed to carry all that music around.
Going back to Houston, to do the hot-dog dance.
Going back to Houston, to get me some pants.
Tee hee…

My brilliant blog buddy with the Ph.D in Houston says Son Volt’s latest is practically as good as Trace.

I’m a Tweedy man myself, but Kevin has good ears.

I thought I’d give this iPod business a spin without actually buying an iPod. Instead, I have the sweet Treo 600 cell phone (which so far, has given me no reason to be replaced by the reportedly sweeter Treo 650.) As part of the deal of buying it, I got PocketTunes, a PalmOS MP3 player, for free. I already had a big 1G SD card that I’d bought on special at Sam’s Club. So all I needed, theoretically, was a pair of earphones.

Now, I’ll just tell you straight out that I hate ear phones and ear buds — they are painful, and if they’re not, they’re falling out of my ears. I’d never really noticed before ear buds that my ears are oddly constructed, but apparently they are. To use any of that type of device, I have to wedge them in so deep as to be dangerous. And not just to me, but to anyone else, since once they’re in, I can’t hear a damn thing. But I went ahead and bought some of these Seido thingies, since they can be switched back and forth from a music headset to a phone headset, and thus actually have some value besides clogging up my head.

So, I loaded up one gigabytes worth of music on the SD card, about 400 songs, and took it with me on the next plane trip. And played it during the hour of flight-time that I was able to turn on acceptable electronic devices.

Good. Gravy. I absolutely hated it. For one thing, even my favorite artists of all time have some horribly crappy songs that should never have been recorded. The amount of filler in those 400 songs is easily 50%. For another thing, how can anyone stand being disconnected from the real world like that? I’m having a hard time imagining a better situation for listening to music than on a plane where there is zero desire to interact with my fellow human beings, and even then I felt like I was too far into a bubble.

OK, so a head full of music and nothing else is not for me. Fine. But I still love listening to music when I’m driving, so we’ll try one of those FM broadcast tuners buddies. Found one online for $30 and ordered it up. Plugged in all the wires and connectors, tuned the truck to 88.1, and hit Play. And everything worked like it was supposed to, so for that I should be happy, probably. But it still doesn’t get around the fact that bloody well 50% of the music on my SD card was filler. I spent half my time running the stupid thing, hitting the Fast Forward button, sometimes 3, 4 songs in a row.

Which means, I guess, that I’m going to have to start making playlists. And that gets to my point about the iPod thingy. It seems like whenever I read about them, most folks have dumped 40 gajillion CDs into them so that they have all their music right there in the palm of their hand. So, the questions are: are all these people spending time building big-ass playlists? Do they just hit FF all the time like I was doing? Or do they sit through the krep? Or does the iPod have some magic algorithm that skips the sawdust? Or am I just a picky sonofabitch that doesn’t have the patience for those little-known jewels hidden between what I judge to be the good songs?

Bottom line, it looks like the iPod is yet another indication that my time has passed. I just don’t get it. Not till I have the time to eff around with it a whole lot more. And by that time, I’ll be past the point of needing it, really…something new will have come along, like a brain implant that plays the songs I want to hear over satellite directly into my head, and it will be controlled by eyebrow twitches.

Note to musicians: please, for your sake and mine, think long and hard about having more than one or two slow, mournful, drag-ass eulogies per CD.

A nice tribute to Delbert McClinton from a man (re-)discovering the genius.

I, myself, am guilty of not trumpeting Delbert enough. But every time one of his songs pops up on pTunes, I’m happy. And, of course I sing along, very very badly.

The Master of Sparks has his now-annual list of 100 Greatest Country Songs of all time posted. I’d never in a million years bother with such a list as I am much too addle-pated to narrow it down to 100. I might, in a pinch, with a gun to my head, be able to do 100 albums, but I’d have to spend days on it.

As always, Jack has brilliant commentary to go with his picks:

Here’s where I make my point about all this phoney baloney shit that I do on here and on the radio. Right now, the money grubbing losers in Nashville are trying to sell us a bill of goods called Big & Rich under the guise of the whole thing being an edge to embrace the edginess of hip-hop, punk, grunge, whatever. It’s all pretty sad and ad hoc, mind you, but it’s an attempt nonetheless. The point is, they had a very natural and organic opportunity back in the 90’s with the music of Jay Farrar in both Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt. The man was and is a real bridge between the musical types and cultural phenomena, and they flat out fart-fuck missed it.

Everybody knows I can’t stand Small and Crappy and that mindless, empty pearl-snap they’ve spawned, Cowpie Troy. I will pick up and leave if that shit comes on. Weekends, I do some dining around the town, and one place always has that god-awful CMT video channel on the toooob. It’s abso-fucking-lutely inevitable that one or the other will come on in the middle of my meal. I need to pick my restaurants better, I guess.

Of course, I have my kicks about the list. No Eagles should ever be on a top 100 list of anything, except as #1 on the list of hippy California suckage that ruined rock. Janis Joplin was a screeching doper who to this day is like a cheesegrater on my scalp. Far too much Kenny Rogers for my tastes. But there’s good stuff, too, of course: acknowledging Marty Robbins, and Charlie Robison, and Waylon and Billie Joe. It wouldn’t be right to not note the inclusion of ZZTop, way down at #93.

Lookie here — back in the day, you had a choice — you could buy ZZTop albums, and you could buy Eagles albums, and you could let them fight it out on the 8-track in your dad’s station wagon, while you cruised around with your pards and your illegal beer. It’s not difficult to see who won with me. Sure, you keep the stupid Eagles around in the big 8-track box on the off-chance you get lucky and get to make out with a girl (such a rare freaking occurrence, and I’m still not sure it ever did happen). But I never pass up a chance to play a ZZTop tune on a juke-box.

OK, I’ve done nothing but play Boot Liquor Radio (tagline: Radio for Cowhands, Cowpokes, and Cowtippers) since I got up on Saturday. I have no XM, no iPod, and the satellite carries Sirius music channels, which, their “country” ruined my lunch one afternoon when I tuned in. This, though, is the nuts.

Highly recommended, as you burn your weenies and drink your rodeo-cool beer, and thank the good Lord for the Scots-Irish that protected all the smart Englishers, so they could come up with this. Me, I’m going to sit on this porch and drink margaritas all day. Someone come over and pull me in the house later — I don’t want to wake up with ants in my mouth.

TFG Western Region HQ

It’s silly to say so, but hosting 100 musicians with a badass PA system is a good thing. So much musical brilliance this weekend…should have been here, wusses.

OK, we just got this nailed down. I know everyone thinks I was being a panicky drama-queen girl about going to LW, but this was on my mind and causing consternation, too. I keep telling you, I really do have lots of irons in the fire, and I really don’t feel right if I’m not giving them the attention they deserve. Especially when it comes to gambling my hard-earned mortgage money.

Wow, what an overwhelming response to Dirt’s 2nd Annual Electric Campfire June 10th and 11th.

So here’s the Dirt (ha ha)

$15.00 Admission
$10.00 Camping all weekend
RV spots are limited - $30.00 one day, $50.00 for the weekend

Friday night is ‘acoustic open mic’ till about 9.30pm then it’s Surprise Guest DAVIN JAMES to rock out the rest of the evening. If your interested in performing at the open mic or need any more info about that weekend please give Dirt a ring at 817-456-9918.

Saturday the lineup goes like this here

• Fat Boys In the Round
• Derrick Smith
• Johnny Mack
• Terry Rasor and Over The Edge
• James Hinkle
• Morris Price
• Ponty Bone

Dirt appreciates all the love and support and can’t wait to see ya on the river..

Let me give you my recommendations. Numero Uno, you can rest assured that NOBODY on this lineup sucks. I’ll give you your money back out of my own pocket if you’re not happy (the only question I’ll ask is how fast you can get your lame ass off my land.)

Can’t say enough about Davin James. Guitar-slinging Houston boy with a huge following, tons of respect from his fellow musicians, and he & the band travel in a converted horse trailer, which if you don’t love that, I don’t want to know ye. Terry Rasor is my pard in Raz on the Braz, hottest music festival in Texas. I love him and Tana to pieces. Heard his band two (three?) weeks ago at a motorsickle rally and of course, my legs hurt from bopping around like a fat white boy. Johnny Mack is a FW blues-shouter that plays a mean rub-board. Chances are that James Hinkle will join him and then go on to play a wicked set of brilliant Gibson hollow-body blues. Little secret: I’m still enough of a fanboy to be frightened of James’ super-coolness.

Most important, of course, is supporting my good buds, Dirt and Mike. I’ve written about these two hayseeds before, but I can’t be arsed to dig out the posts. Dirt and Mike aren’t brothers, but they are. They are two of the finest musicians you will find in Texas, both of them. Either one could pick up a stringed instrument and have a crowd around them doing moonshine jigs in 30 seconds. I love them both and I’m thrilled to be able to help out with getting something started for, I guess, Dirt, being as his name is on the thing. But I know Mikey is heavily involved…he’s just shy and prefers to pass (out) in the background.

Bottom line: you get a weekend of local music by some of the finest musicians in Texas, dirt-cheap accomodations (ahem-$50 off the normal price), probably a free beer or two if you walk up to the right person at the right time, river time, and of course, the company of ME. Which is priceless.

C’mon down, hayseeds!    

UPDATE: I hear that lop-eared pup Ben Wright, one of my favorite people in this world, is going to play. Wheee!

From the least likely source, too — St. Francis of Poretto.

OK, maybe tomorrow some time. I will not be tagging anyone, by the way.