jubilee theatre, ovation, howlin' wolf, record town
tagged along with my sweetie's jubilee theatre group on friday night and got to see the ebullient ensemble's xmas extravaganza, langston hughes' black nativity. the cat in the paper didn't seem to like it much, but i found it pert inspiring, combining all the signature jubilee virtues: high energy, vibrant music (altho all singers are _not_ created equal), a fair amount of humor, and creative use of the theatre's intimate space. artistic director ed smith continues to build on the foundation rudy eastman built, and i could feel rudy's presence in the house that night.
before that, we stopped for dinner at ovation on camp bowie, where executive chef keith hicks has successfully transplanted the concept from cachonga's (fine dining and bluesy-jazzy live music an incredible seven nights a week) to a better space and location, substituting upscale soul food for the previous endeavor's southwestern cuisine. the blackened salmon with shrimp and jalapeno-cheese grits was ace, but next time i'm going for the fried chicken and waffles with cinnamon butter 'n' blueberry-infused syrup, accompanied by full-bodied collard greens 'n' julienned sweet potatoes that my sweetie said are "more of a texture than a flavor." keith's gumbo is legendary, too.
been re-reading robert gordon's muddy waters bio, and heard about a documentary about howlin' wolf that was worth seeing, so i went to cop it from sumter bruton at record town on sat'day. was talking to larry harrison the previous day about how mc5: a true testimonial is _the best rockumentary you'll never see_, but don mcglynn's the howlin' wolf story is every bit as good. besides the ints with "big foot chester"'s daughters and his longtime gtrist hubert sumlin, i particularly dug the way the filmmaker used period footage to give the viewer a sense of the mississippi delta, memphis, and chicago as his subject knew 'em. i'd never seen the wolf when he was alive, so the performances from the 1964 shindig tv show he played at the rolling stones' insistence, the american folk blues festival from europe the same year, and the 1966 newport folk festival (where he talks story and chastises a sloppy-drunk son house in addition to playing his ass off) were a revelation, as was drummer sam lay's soundless home movie footage showing wolf clowning in chicago clubs. i'd read in a story paul trynka wrote for mojo a decade or so ago that wolf was into self-improvement and usedta study his nightschool lessons in between sets at the clubs (in addition to studying music, he learned to read 'n' write in his 50s), but i'd been unaware that he drove himself out of the south in his own car with $4000 in his pocket, that he paid unemployment insurance for his bandsmen, or that he was such a dedicated family man. a titanic figure who transcended his time in more ways than one, and one worthy of emulation, even. who'd a thunk it?
at record town, there was a brit fella researching b.b. king rekkids who talked about having seen wolf in london three times during the late '60s. turns out he was johnny staines, whom i'd met when he was doing a&r stuff (he signed dire straits to warner bros.) around the time i came to the fort. apparently he's living in austin now, running a reissue label. gotta love the "saturday morning music club" at sumter's.
before that, we stopped for dinner at ovation on camp bowie, where executive chef keith hicks has successfully transplanted the concept from cachonga's (fine dining and bluesy-jazzy live music an incredible seven nights a week) to a better space and location, substituting upscale soul food for the previous endeavor's southwestern cuisine. the blackened salmon with shrimp and jalapeno-cheese grits was ace, but next time i'm going for the fried chicken and waffles with cinnamon butter 'n' blueberry-infused syrup, accompanied by full-bodied collard greens 'n' julienned sweet potatoes that my sweetie said are "more of a texture than a flavor." keith's gumbo is legendary, too.
been re-reading robert gordon's muddy waters bio, and heard about a documentary about howlin' wolf that was worth seeing, so i went to cop it from sumter bruton at record town on sat'day. was talking to larry harrison the previous day about how mc5: a true testimonial is _the best rockumentary you'll never see_, but don mcglynn's the howlin' wolf story is every bit as good. besides the ints with "big foot chester"'s daughters and his longtime gtrist hubert sumlin, i particularly dug the way the filmmaker used period footage to give the viewer a sense of the mississippi delta, memphis, and chicago as his subject knew 'em. i'd never seen the wolf when he was alive, so the performances from the 1964 shindig tv show he played at the rolling stones' insistence, the american folk blues festival from europe the same year, and the 1966 newport folk festival (where he talks story and chastises a sloppy-drunk son house in addition to playing his ass off) were a revelation, as was drummer sam lay's soundless home movie footage showing wolf clowning in chicago clubs. i'd read in a story paul trynka wrote for mojo a decade or so ago that wolf was into self-improvement and usedta study his nightschool lessons in between sets at the clubs (in addition to studying music, he learned to read 'n' write in his 50s), but i'd been unaware that he drove himself out of the south in his own car with $4000 in his pocket, that he paid unemployment insurance for his bandsmen, or that he was such a dedicated family man. a titanic figure who transcended his time in more ways than one, and one worthy of emulation, even. who'd a thunk it?
at record town, there was a brit fella researching b.b. king rekkids who talked about having seen wolf in london three times during the late '60s. turns out he was johnny staines, whom i'd met when he was doing a&r stuff (he signed dire straits to warner bros.) around the time i came to the fort. apparently he's living in austin now, running a reissue label. gotta love the "saturday morning music club" at sumter's.
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