Friday, November 28, 2008
Meet Tom Scott. Part time horn player, full time great guy.
Tom is a virtuoso guitar player and gifted songwriter, he's gracious enough to sit in on a gig with the Blue Coyote crew every now and then to add his distinctive flair to our live sets.
I get a call from Matt our drummer today (Matt and his beautiful wife Donna own a music store), Matt sounds sick, I said, "Hey Matt, what's up?" "You're not gonna believe what happened". he said. "Tom Scott was in the store today and had a sezieure, he fell down and hit his head on a toolbox then on the floor, he cut his face pretty bad and needed some stitches." I was horrified, I asked, "Is he all right?" Matt replied, "Yeah, he's all right, other than a face full of stitches and two huge black eyes, apparently he has these episodes every now and then, it has something to do with mercury poisoning" Matt continued, "Tom's really worried about tomorrow night, he's scheduled to play a gig (Tom has a solo act that's pretty awesome) at Blondie's and he needs the money to make his rent this month. I thought maybe we could cover his gig and make sure he gets the money"
"Count me in Matt, I wouldn't miss it."
Anyone within driving distance needs to hit Blondie's tomorrow night, have a beer and kick some money in the tip jar for Tom. We're lucky to have musicians of Tom's caliber in the area, we're double lucky that we have someone as nice as Tom in the area. Tom's done a lot for the live music scene locally.
Tom, we love you man. Get better, we need you!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
You guys want to hear a funny story? First off let me introduce my dad and set the stage a bit. The man you see in the pictures is my dad, I took these a couple summers ago when he and I hiked to Hope Lake. Those of you familiar with the San Juan National Forest will recognize Lizard Head Peak in the background of the top pic.
When we hiked it the first time we were caught in a lightning storm and subsequent hail storm that would seriously put the fear of God in anyone. The lightning was hitting the rocks everywhere around us, and when the lightning stopped, the hail started. We crawled into a bush in the middle of a pile of rocks, being above timberline that was the only "shelter" we could find and waited for the hail to quit, when it had finally stopped, we walked down the trail soaking wet sloshing through 8 inches of marble sized hail.
I was pretty worried being up that high, A few feet over 13,ooo, especially with my dad who's in his 70's, and being so far from the car, about 5 miles and 3000 vertical feet. But he had a big smile on his face and when we got to the car he was no worse for the wear. Suffice it to say we didn't get any pictures taken or have any time to enjoy the scenery. We decided to give it a try another day.
Well, the day these pictures were taken "perfect" fails to describe the day we had. The temperature was great, the sun was shining, it was like being in a postcard all day.
We had a great hike up to the lake, but the last 400 yards is a killer, it's up and over a steep granite peak, and being right at the end of a strenuous hike it was a real killer. We got to the lake and spent a couple hours hanging around, fishing, talking and exploring when we decided it was probably time to head down. During our stay I had scouted a route that was far easier than the up and over the granite peak trail.
We headed off on my new found route which was really quite a breeze. It meandered around the base of the peak and met up with the trail where it entered the timber. Along the way my trail lead us to the top of a little cliff, probably about 200 feet high or so. I looked over the edge waiting for my dad to catch up when I saw a young couple enjoying nature, and when I say enjoying nature I mean REALLY enjoying nature. It was a scene straight out of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom meets Cirque de Solei.
When I realized what I was seeing, I took a few steps back up the hill to give them some privacy and maybe prevent my dad from taking in the NC17 floor show. It was too late, dad had already been mooned. He stood on the edge of the cliff for a second squinting hard at the action below, then he turned to me and said, "What in the hell is that guy doing down there, it looks like he's naked and jumping up and down on something?" I said, "I don't know dad, people do some crazy things these days". With that, my dad seemed content and began following me to the trail again.
We get a couple hundred yards down the trail when I hear my dad bust out laughing, I turn around to see what was up and he says, "OH, That's what they were doing." We sat down on the trail and had a real belly laugh. When we finally got back to the car that evening we saw the young couple getting ready to get in their car and leave. Of cousre dad had to say something . . . he said, "So, did you two have a good time". They smiled at one another and said, "We had a great time".
With that we called it a day, and what a day it turned out to be.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Everyone talks about their favorite guitar players and the lists include Hendrix, Clapton, B B King, Vaughn . . . etc. Well you're looking at mine. While there may be others out there that are faster on the chromatic scale or get around the circle of fifths with more authority, no one has captured my attention more than Jake.
It's pretty amazing being on stage with him, when he plays and sings, people stop dead in their tracks and notice. He plays that big black Gretsch guitar and his tone is meaty and full. Guitar players stare at his hands and shake their heads in amazement, girls of all ages stare at the whole package and smile.
I remember getting ready to play our first big time gig, we opened for the headlining band at a local Blues Festival, there were 5000 people watching, I was standing by the side of the stage waiting our turn to hop up and play - I was nervous as a cat - Jake came to me and said, "See these people, they came to hear us play and play well, none of them want us to fail, they all want their socks rocked off. Don't be nervous, let's just get on stage and have some fun."
It was supposed to be me saying that to him, I was the veteran.
Jake had picked one of his favorite songs to open our set, however the band that played right before us covered it as their last song. Jake didn't want to do the same song over again so when our band got onstage ready to play Jake said to us, let's play something in "A", he stepped up to the mic and hollered, "AND AWAY WE GO", I don't even remember what we played in that set, I just remember people running to the front of the stage dancing like mad animals.
I'll never be a Rock Star, but I'll tell you what, I wouldn't trade the gigs I've played with Jake for all the stadium crowds the Stone's have ever played to. Pure Joy!
Thanks Jake, you're my hero.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The other night we're playing Blondie's, one of our favorite local nightspots and everything is pretty normal, people having a few drinks and thinking they're on Dancing with the Stars.
Jake was belting out a beautiful Rockabilly version of "Gimme Back my Wig" it goes like this:
Gimme back my wig, Oh honey let your head go bald
Gimme back my wig, Oh honey let your head go bald
You really got no business, honey buying no wig at all.
One pretty boozy couple were really getting into the swing of things. The man was huge, he looked Samoan, he was dancing with a tall redhead in a white cocktail dress. During one particularly daring move, somehow the couple's hands became separated sending the woman flying into the stage. She went headfirst into my microphone stand, careened sideways falling off the corner of the stage, amazingly she managed to keep her feet underneath her as she listed out of control toward a table filled with cocktails in various states of being consumed. She made landfall directly on the table sending booze, little umbrellas and highball glasses everywhere. When she finally came to rest, she was seated in the lap of a strange man who was trying to act manly all the while blink Bacardi and Coke out of his tear-filled eyes.
Without missing a beat, Jake stepped up to the mic and with perfect pitch delivered the following:
If you're gonna dance, honey please don't slip and fall,
If you're gonna dance, honey please don't slip and fall,
You really got no business, honey tryin' to dance at all.
Where in the world does he come up with this stuff? I was doubled over with laughter hoping the boozy Samoan wouldn't take offence.
Everything turned out fine, I'm pretty sure the Samoan dude who closely resembled a beer truck was far too intoxicated to understand the new lyrics.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I was probably watching Tom Cruise in that ridiculous football movie while I sported a pair of shoes much like these bad boys.
Well, as luck would have it, right there at eye level, front and center in the thrift store were these beauties. Brand spanking new - still in the box - stuffed full of paper. Let me tell you, "NO" was a word I could not say. It was as if the moment I set foot in the store the shoes called my name.
I've never loved a pair of shoes as much as I love these . . . never.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
So I'm retaking my vow, I'm drinking the Koolaid of the apolitical.
I'm determined to escape from political debate for at least a year, it may be hard but I've got to do it.
Some of you may have noticed that I'm dressed like Steve Jobs in the above pic, that is a reminder to me as well. I'm not going to engage in the Mac / PC argument either.
Let's talk about something else, please.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
It ain't happening.
I still get a big smile on my face when I put a coin in a gumball machine. I still get sad at the end of a warm summer afternoon when I'm engaged in a fun activity, it reminds me of when my mom would yell out the front door, "Trout . . . time to come in, supper's ready." I still have trouble falling asleep on Christmas eve, even though the mystery has been lost.
Maybe I'm wired differently than others? Maybe there's something wrong with me? Whatever it is, I'm gonna go with it. I've decided that "stoic" and "reserved" aren't for me.
Life's too short to be an adult all the time. I have to let the kid come out and play.
Monday, November 10, 2008
We have this friend that we play music with, he's a really great guy, loves to play, has some very cool jam sessions in his basement, we've had like thirty people crammed into his basement on jam night at times.
He calls me one day and says, "Hey Trout, wanna play some music in Mancos?" "Sure" I said. I didn't know what the deal was but I figured it'd be a hoot considering who asked us to play.
He says, "We're gonna play a chuckwagon show for a stage line in Mancos, the deal is, they ride the guests around a loop in the stagecoach and they eventually wind up at the cookhouse for dinner, we play while the dinner is being prepared, then we play when the dinner's over"
Sounded cool, except . . . we got no cowboy music. So I hop on the internet and dig up a couple dozen cowboy favorites, Jake and I run through them a time or two we call ourselves "ready"
We get gussied up in our cowboy finest and away we go, we ended up playing for a couple hours. It was a good time, at the end of the day we each had 33 dollars in our pockets, a wonderful steak dinner in our bellies, and Jake had a big pile of phone numbers from a group of out of state tourist girls.
It doesn't get much better than that.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Jake and I were lucky enough to run across a Gretsch guitar display at Brian Setzer Orchestra show we saw.
The guitar hanging on the rack above Jake's left shoulder was a true masterpiece, we didn't get to play it, they wanted $35,000 dollars for it.
I thought I'd blog this just in case anyone was having trouble deciding what to get me for Christmas.
I've been a very good boy all year.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Once upon a time a LONG time ago there was a little boy, his name was Trout. Little Trout had a mom who loved him desperately and always made sure he looked his best. His "best" included a military flat-top haircut.
Fast forward 39 years . . .
Trout decided that he should grow out his hair because he was very tired of his old haircut, the resultant style is the one you see in the above picture, very dapper, as mom would say. However, if I opt for not wetting it down and running a comb through it in the mornings, it can be a comical sight. As in my profile pic.
There you have it people, the story of my out of control hair, I know you'll all sleep better knowing the entire truth.
PS: The woman standing next to me in the pic is the lovely Mrs. Trout, who just so happens to think my hair is sexy. And that, my friends, is ALL that matters.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
He came to camp well prepared for a night in the great outdoors:
- Sleeping bag
- Cell phone
- 4 cans of "Dinty Moore" beef stew
- 1 orange hat
After realizing that he'd forgotten his can opener, he sifted through our gear until he found one. In the search, he uncovered a can of his favorite mystery meat, "Spam" I believe is it's proper name.
After he downed two cans of beef stew, he decided to top them off with a nice stove-roasted, meat pop.
Notice the ease with which Jake multi-tasks, texting while roasting meat on a stick.
If anyone would like the recipe, shoot me an email and I'll jot it down for you.