b movie valentino, hank hankshaw, tad gaither, art of the jam 10
so we went and saw b movie valentino at the saffire lounge last saturday.
i hadn't been in the saffire in a coupla yrs and it's changed some. it looks more like a rock room. they got rid of the too-much furniture. not many ppl there for b movie valentino (which is bysshe and otto from the snowdonnas and destination venus playing gtrs and bysshe singing over some sequencing stuff that he wrote -- very melancholy and atmospheric); just some loud obnoxo tcu kids who coulda cared a rat's ass about any band and mostly left for the library (the bar, not...you know what i mean) before the musos' 45 minutes was up. feh.
sometime wreck room wednesday night jammer jon hill says he's hosting an acoustic open mic thingy at saffire on tuesday nights. as much as i'd like to check him out, if i'm gonna go out of the house on a tuesday, it's gonna be to the wreck to hear hank hankshaw do his happy hour thang. this week it was my sweetie's birthday, so we headed over to the wreck to see graham, hear hank, and have a celebratory shot or two. hank looks kinda like tom waits and has one of those real _lived-in_ voices, along with a song bag deep enough to hold maybe every country song ever written -- the old, good kind (i requested and he played possum's "she thinks i still care") -- as well as rockabilly (like the great oklahoman eddie cochran's "20 flight rock") and who knows what-all (johnny horton's "the battle of new orleans"). while he's holding forth, the wreck has an ambience that's more than a little like austin back when it was still groover's paradise and not "america's live music capital(r)." this past tuesday, he was accompanied by a drummer (snare and brushes only) and mandolin player. they all did it up fine.
slouching at the end of the bar that night was black dog impresario tad gaither. sure, he's a cantankerous old yank, and an insane conspiracy theorist to boot, but dammit, this publishing industry vet turned clubowner has done more than anybody to nurture creative diversity and eclecticism in this town the past seven-odd years -- from open mic poetry and comedy to all kinds of jazz to reggae to whatevah. his room has served as the hothouse where bands like confusatron and kulcha far i could germinate. and, um, i met my wife there. anyway...right now, he's trying to find a band to alternate thursday nights with confusatron. kulcha was his first choice, but african rasta chris hakata and his bassplayer john shook are decamping for europe soon, so that'll have to wait until the fall. meanwhile, tad's got a revamped villain vanguard lineup booked for august 19th. film, as they say, at 11.
lee allen promised surprises at the wreck room's wednesday night jam this week and he didn't disappoint. violinist steve huber was back from a trip to st. louis and chicago, and lee's new employer james hinkle (who led the jammers through a blistering "voodoo child" at the end of last week's festivities) was back with his open ears, sterling gtr chops, and book of toons to give the jam a bluesy, jazzy ambience -- at lower volume and with a higher degree of interactivity than it's had the last coupla weeks. from milt jackson's "bags' groove" to funky nawlins-style r&b to less familiar territory like steve huber's 7/4 "dry hump burn," hinkle was there listening and responding empathetically, like a good jammer should. james apparently enjoyed himself; i overheard him telling lee, "i guess i'm gonna have to tell betsy that i have a regular wednesday night gig."
other than that, it was a night of drummers. joe cruz (who might be joining villain vanguard but shhh...don't tell anybody) manned the traps throughout the evening, except for intervals when he was spelled by poet william bryan massey iii (who's now working as pam pride's sous chef at some joint in aledo) and a fella named wyatt, who did yeoman work on the p-funk standard "maggot brain." carl pack, who's been mostly absent for the past few weeks, returned to front the band singing "come together." wreck room wizard of sound andre edmonson's buddy chris "i taught him everything he knows" fisher is filling in for dre while dre's off in colorado with a-hummin' acoustical acupuncture, and in the finest wreck room tradition, "fish" provided an exceptionally clear, balanced mix. all in all, it was more fun than human beings should be allowed to have on a wednesday night.
i hadn't been in the saffire in a coupla yrs and it's changed some. it looks more like a rock room. they got rid of the too-much furniture. not many ppl there for b movie valentino (which is bysshe and otto from the snowdonnas and destination venus playing gtrs and bysshe singing over some sequencing stuff that he wrote -- very melancholy and atmospheric); just some loud obnoxo tcu kids who coulda cared a rat's ass about any band and mostly left for the library (the bar, not...you know what i mean) before the musos' 45 minutes was up. feh.
sometime wreck room wednesday night jammer jon hill says he's hosting an acoustic open mic thingy at saffire on tuesday nights. as much as i'd like to check him out, if i'm gonna go out of the house on a tuesday, it's gonna be to the wreck to hear hank hankshaw do his happy hour thang. this week it was my sweetie's birthday, so we headed over to the wreck to see graham, hear hank, and have a celebratory shot or two. hank looks kinda like tom waits and has one of those real _lived-in_ voices, along with a song bag deep enough to hold maybe every country song ever written -- the old, good kind (i requested and he played possum's "she thinks i still care") -- as well as rockabilly (like the great oklahoman eddie cochran's "20 flight rock") and who knows what-all (johnny horton's "the battle of new orleans"). while he's holding forth, the wreck has an ambience that's more than a little like austin back when it was still groover's paradise and not "america's live music capital(r)." this past tuesday, he was accompanied by a drummer (snare and brushes only) and mandolin player. they all did it up fine.
slouching at the end of the bar that night was black dog impresario tad gaither. sure, he's a cantankerous old yank, and an insane conspiracy theorist to boot, but dammit, this publishing industry vet turned clubowner has done more than anybody to nurture creative diversity and eclecticism in this town the past seven-odd years -- from open mic poetry and comedy to all kinds of jazz to reggae to whatevah. his room has served as the hothouse where bands like confusatron and kulcha far i could germinate. and, um, i met my wife there. anyway...right now, he's trying to find a band to alternate thursday nights with confusatron. kulcha was his first choice, but african rasta chris hakata and his bassplayer john shook are decamping for europe soon, so that'll have to wait until the fall. meanwhile, tad's got a revamped villain vanguard lineup booked for august 19th. film, as they say, at 11.
lee allen promised surprises at the wreck room's wednesday night jam this week and he didn't disappoint. violinist steve huber was back from a trip to st. louis and chicago, and lee's new employer james hinkle (who led the jammers through a blistering "voodoo child" at the end of last week's festivities) was back with his open ears, sterling gtr chops, and book of toons to give the jam a bluesy, jazzy ambience -- at lower volume and with a higher degree of interactivity than it's had the last coupla weeks. from milt jackson's "bags' groove" to funky nawlins-style r&b to less familiar territory like steve huber's 7/4 "dry hump burn," hinkle was there listening and responding empathetically, like a good jammer should. james apparently enjoyed himself; i overheard him telling lee, "i guess i'm gonna have to tell betsy that i have a regular wednesday night gig."
other than that, it was a night of drummers. joe cruz (who might be joining villain vanguard but shhh...don't tell anybody) manned the traps throughout the evening, except for intervals when he was spelled by poet william bryan massey iii (who's now working as pam pride's sous chef at some joint in aledo) and a fella named wyatt, who did yeoman work on the p-funk standard "maggot brain." carl pack, who's been mostly absent for the past few weeks, returned to front the band singing "come together." wreck room wizard of sound andre edmonson's buddy chris "i taught him everything he knows" fisher is filling in for dre while dre's off in colorado with a-hummin' acoustical acupuncture, and in the finest wreck room tradition, "fish" provided an exceptionally clear, balanced mix. all in all, it was more fun than human beings should be allowed to have on a wednesday night.
posted by stashdauber at 4:37 AM
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