The Changing of the Guard

Take a look at Jake, he's standing next to the front man for the band, "Playing in Traffic" a local band from our little corner of the world.

Jake was asked to sit in with them because their regular bass player was out of town.  It was pretty amazing.  The crowd was big, especially for a Sunday, what's more, the crowd was YOUNG, I mean young, most of them aren't of legal age to drink.  

As I watched them getting set up I looked around the room, there were many people that I knew and that I've known for years.  One lady in particular was Linda, Linda and I along with Jake play in another band.

We were sitting together remembering when our generation was the up and coming one, we were the younger crowd that was settling in and trying to make a name for ourselves.  We were playing the music of our generation to an audience that was grateful to have kindred spirits serving up their entertainment.

Tonight wasn't about us however, it was all about the next generation.  

                

As the band began to play, the crowd came alive, 

they screamed and sang in lock-step unison,  songs that I'd never heard in my life.  It was one of "those" moments.  A moment where I could actually feel the passage of time, I could feel my youth slip a little further into the distance.

On one hand it was a bit sad, but on the other hand it was very satisfying, almost like we could rest assured knowing that our legacy was in good hands, young hands, hands that are ready to conquer the world in their own way.

I teased with Linda as we smiled ear to ear watching the show.  I said, "You realize we're out the door; right?"  She said, "We're not out the door Trout, we just have to move on to the next thing, we have to continue to show them the way, we're not through, our role has just changed a little".

Linda's a wise woman.

It's really wonderful to be in a room with more than one generation of people, it's really wonderful to see yourself in the next generation.

Guitar Hero

A few years back I took this pic of Jake, I think it captures him pretty well.

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.

The Redheaded Projectile

Did I mention that Jake and I play in a Rockabilly band? It's a riot - anyway - here's a pic of Jake snarkily posing in front of Brian Setzer's tour bus.

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.

You mean you'll pay us??

Did you folks ever hear about mine and Jake's first professional gig? No? Well, it went like this:

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.

Gretsch Lover's Xanadu

What can I say, I love Gretsch guitars.

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.

Spam ala Jake

As luck would have it, Jake decided to pay a visit to the hunting camp over the weekend. He was only able to stay Saturday night and part of Sunday. Any longer than that and his large harem of swooning, teenage girls goes into withdrawals.

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.

They're so cute at this age!

Not to keep harping on this but . . .

Jake went so deep into "autograph mode" that in the fray he even signed his own arm, saying, "I'm going to tell everyone that Willie Nelson's daughter signed my arm and everyone will want to be me".

Even the most casual observer can see that the signature on the aforementioned arm reads, "Jake", which clearly isn't the given name of Willie's daughter. I said, "No one will believe that Paula signed your arm, that scribbling is ridiculous" He said, "Oh yeah? Watch this." He then proceeded to prove me wrong by saying to anyone who walked past, "Look, Willie's daughter signed my arm; what do you think about that?"

Those who weren't scared by his boldness actually said something like, "Oh, that's cool".

What a bunch of dorks.