I’ve been made blue, I’ve been lied to.
When will I be loved?
I’ve been turned down, I’ve been pushed round.
When will I be loved?
When I meet a new girl that I want for mine
She always breaks my heart in two, it happens every time.
I’ve been cheated, been mistreated.
When will I be loved?
Phil Everly
Likewise, Dallas … this is one that’s tough to get over hearin’ … the best kind of song in my book.
I only knew of Dallas Moore from his sketch on the wall of a Bowling Green, KY country bar … and being told of his top rank in outlaw country music back at that bar in September, by my new friend Kenneth Marr, author of the sketch.
Well, after making the several hour drive from near Detroit, to Win, Place or Show bar in West Chester, Ohio … to finally see DM in practically his own backyard, gettin’ his guitar on, and goin’ off in every which way but loose, for friends, family and fans on a sunny, brisk Sunday in October … let’s just say the big guy sure got the right first name, as he does that honest, hard livin’ music up right- larger than life in that big wide open, Lone Star State.
The veteran outlaw country road warrior had as much fun as the crowd out on the WPS deck- maybe more, Mr. Moore? I did after all lose count of which was highest (haha)- your number of beers, shots or songs? No bother- Dallas lifted us all higher and higher with his 100 proof plus, honest songs.
From the road weary but gotta ride my life away blues of “Rollin’ On” … to the drunken, wailin’, wonderin’ about a woman of “Where You Gonna Be, When I’m Gone”, to the heart-on-his-sleeve, shiveringly sensitive “I Can’t Get Over You”. Not to mention when Dallas cranked it up with cool covers like Billy Joe Shaver’s “Georgia on a Fast Train”.
To us lucky ones who were there, or anyone who has seen the YouTube video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsxH09tfYSE) …
the heartfelt highlight at dusk was Dallas bringing on his revered mother of bluegrass royalty, Mama Madgelee Hanes Moore, for Hank Williams‘ sorrow-steeped classic “I’m So Lonesome, I Could Cry”. Having recorded it in recent years with their friend, the late, great Jody Payne … at the Ohio studio, in the circle where Hank laid it down himself … this was easily the most moving, memorable moment that night.
As darkness began to fall, DM’s fellow outlaw country road compadres- my new musical friend from an unforgettable 9/11 concert in Nashville, Brigitte London, and her music mate Cley Reynolds– didn’t let the spark from DM’s sound fade one bit.
Her Blondness summons up her soul in her music … strummin’ and pickin’ the guitar, and most importantly singin’ strong thru all kinds of life’s stormy weather- as they say, once she sings a song, it stays sung. Her biting blues, ferociously confessional, “If I Was That Kind of Woman”, lit us all up, far into the darkness of the night.
Then after his silent steady, guitar-grinding act playing with Brigitte, Cley burst out on his own with a lively New Orleans-centric lyrical song that really hit home for this no-small-lover of all the glorious gumbo of sounds from NOLA. And his other down home, drivin’ songs were all full of it- in the best rowdy rockin’ and reelin’ sense- like the two-steppin’, “Dancin’ by the Country Store”.
Dallas closed out on guitar with a rowdy, rocking, outlaw song- and he just plain out outdid hisself … sending out the best damn, down home, pedal-to-the-metal, swift, swirling, frantic, fiery hot flamenco-spiced solos … sitting up front, I couldn’t help but fix my gaze on his silver skull ring on his right hand turning into a shiny, streaky blur.
After the music race was run at Win, Place and Show, I was lucky enough to join Dallas, Brigitte, Cley, Bobby Mackey and other friends, to see DM’s buddies in Straw Boss do it up, good ol’ hillbilly rock style in their weekly Sunday showcase at Southgate House Revival, just a few minutes away in Newport, Kentucky. Yep … down home singin’, a few guitars, pedal steel and stand up bass in a remodeled church will damn near cure what ails ya, every time.
I got almost as much pleasure from the Straw pickin’ boys indulging my Buck Owens and George Jones requests … as from the dancin’ I enjoyed with a local lady (just about the prettiest girl in the house). No insult to the band, but I said almost 🙂
Dallas and Bobby M. took turns with the band, but Brigitte stole the show by bringin’ back Patsy, soul deep and dreamy … on “Walkin’ After Midnight”.
Then both before retiring to, and after rising and shining outta, my hotel in nearby Mason, Ohio … I hit the eatin’ sign you’re in the South … Waffle House, for pecan waffles at night, and sausage gravy/biscuit/eggs/hash browns & onions at breakfast- boy howdy!
Check out the good ol’ sound stuff, straight no chaser, from my friends at-
http://www.dallasmoore.com
http://www.brigitte-london.com
http://www.facebook.com/people/Cley-Reynolds/100000026980871
http://www.bobbymackey.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Straw-Boss/584368948246142
Happy 67th B-day plus 1, John!
“Now Elvis had a woman …
With a head like a rock.
I wished I had a woman …
That made my knees knock.
She’d sing like an angel …
And eat like a bird.
And if I wrote a song …
She’d know ever single word.
There’s a big old goofy man …
Dancing with a big old goofy girl.
Ooh baby …
It’s a big old goofy world.”
John Prine- “It’s a Big Ol’ Goofy World”
“The kettle’s on the boil,
Lord, the night is almost gone.
The fire is a-dyin’ down,
and I’m tryin’ to write this song.”
“The Highway Callin'”
Sit back and give a good, close listen to this live wire of a live album of Fred J. Eaglesmith’s songs about the living and the dead- whether in heart, mind or soul- and you’ll be damn grateful he opened a vein in pain to let loose this bracing bunch of songs … these tales from his musical root cellar of growin’ up in the open farmland of Ontario, Canada.
It was his American debut twenty years ago next month, for about a hundred of us soundly stunned listeners in a tiny, suburban Detroit church choir room- but let me be very clear that these, fatally true country blues birthed north of the border … speak loud and very clear to anyone, anywhere with an open heart to the struggles of others- even if you’re never planted seed, raised cattle or been to a rodeo.
It’s just a pack of straight shootin’ songs- cracked, detail-packed, a bit sweet ’til gone bitter, story-stacked … a view into the small gains and oft’ permanent, soul slaying pains … of Fred’s people from the plains.
And on this special night of razor sharp, raw and rowdy, quietly shocking and even rocking sounds … Fred’s mates The Flying Squirrels- the now sadly late, master and so moving mandolinist Willie P. Bennett, and solid bassist Ralph Schipper, earned my huge respect for their instrumental and vocal harmonic contributions … professionals and pals perfectly pitching in for the concert cause.
As to them truth-telling voices, the opening acapella three-part on “(He’s got a heart made of) Yellow Barley Straw” alone flat out flattened us that night … it just ain’t for the faint of us still runnin’ on our red, flesh-and-blood organs.
On the “odds stacked against us” side of relations with the fairer sex, just be real still and hear Fred’s achingly blunt “ain’t fooling no one but myself” confessionals, “I’m Just Dreamin”, or “My Last Six Dollars”.
And go ahead, close your your eyes and hear it from each side of that personal picket fence- a bridge too far battle in the stillness of “Summerlea” … and the wild young ones in the ridin’ high, yet still lonesome sound stakes of “Rodeo Rose“- on a lifetime loser to the law, and a lifetime loser of a maw.
As Fred’s family were losers of their farm when he was a teen, sending him train-hoppin’ across Canada … the heart-breaking songs here make it clear the crops lost and financial drops cost are just the tells … of the inner bells that toll louder, and kill the prouder of the growers, once lowered.
A few of the stake-in-the-soul, sown-and-blown, down on the farm ‘ers … “Thirty Years of Farming”, “Sunflowers” and “Go Out and Plough”. Hear ’em and either you get it, or you don’t.
After Fred tells his tale of him and his siblings crowded in front in his Dad’s five-ton, with cattle crowded in back … the really rough-on-the-ears, rocky road rhythms of “Rough Edges” … leaves far more than mere scratches on your soul.
Fred gets the last word here …
“The whistle wails, the trains roll on
“I guess I’ll go back to where I come from …
to where my daddy sits, on a little porch,
on a little farm, in a little town that they call Jericho.
He always told me, son, you should know,
The walls always tumble down just when you’re sure they won’t.”
“Jericho”
To get your own copy, and get to know some new old friends, go to
Willy D. coming through with all his heart and soul … on this most moving song he wrote with the legendary Doc Pomus. Would be my favorite bride and groom wedding dance song ever, if used.
Since receiving this great gift at 21, from a bandmate of the long passed on 40s and 50s Detroit hillbilly fiddler … Michael’s obviously given the sweet-stringed shoulder singer … and thus Chief’s spirit … new life. May that musical soul and spirit never again be extinguished.
Folks, unlike on the cover of his album of the same name … I capitalize his four self-labels in my caption, since Michael on Fire (MOF) just plain out don’t do nuthin’ musically small at all.
Whether he’s softly singing and strumming, or wailing and slashing guitar strings with all his weight … is irrelevant … he just goes balls-to-the-wall when he plays for one and all … thankfully, MOF just don’t know any other way.
My hearty fellow- paisan and native Detroiter- … is just one of them musicians who seemingly explodes his songs on stage- always unrehearsed, unabashed and unbowed … and lets the chips fall in our heads and hearts where they may.
After 40 years of putting himself out there across the world, now using a California base … am embarassed to say I just was smacked in the soul with MOF’s music early this year, as he opened for pal Billy Brandt, at an intimate church/house concert gig in Livonia, MI.
After soaking in his energy, as he roamed the wooden stage, rocking on his guitar, wild curls tossed back over his army jacket … he then retreated to a piano off to stage left. He just tore us all up, as he humbly, softly played piano and dedicated to Billy’s dying mother and his own seriously ailing niece … “Thank You For Today (for all those times you never heard me say)”. Talk about reminding one what’s really important.
He’s done many albums over the years, after cutting his teeth in highly regarded Detroit bands like jazz/fusion group Prismatic (didn’t always get their power as a non-musician, but recall the sheer talent) … and country rock pioneers Old Buck.
His albums … with their variety of soully strong, historically, wildly worded songs, shot thru with his potent vocal passion and urgently executed instrumental backing by his friends-in-arms … all are truly meaningful sonic snapshots in time- he wrote, played and sung ONLY what he wanted to do that musical moment- dig it or don’t, but MOF has never let his pilot light go out … that internal flame keeps him trying to jump higher and higher. Ain’t no accident, that album title, “Keepers of The Flame”.
And when not off traveling the world, seizing solo gigs at house concerts or various venues … MOF’s backed by a strong, natural country outfit out of his Cali base. To testify a bit to their talents, they’re prone to be abducted by a certain “crazy-hearted” actor and country musician for easy traveling, moonlighting duty out on the road. Have heard them backing both MOF & JB … first rate fellas one and all, able to bring it back home … all that down home sound.
Just a couple notes on a couple of his very musically noteworthy recent releases-
on “Live from London”, MOF gathered some new friends with UK and Irish ties … and they all just cut some killer, unrehearsed live takes on his soaring songs. He headed across the pond to find the old country’s ties that will always bind them with our “new” country’s so real, rocking and reeling roots music. I brand this boldest of cultural collaborations in sound … loosely and lovely dangerous– only hurts if it’s first time you’ve taken your sad ears outta the mundane musical box.
Back home in a Detroit studio last year- an almost hellish wintry period including a power outage- “Cadillac Ranch” (nuthin’ to do with The Boss auto ode) was birthed by MOF on all instruments … a rich sounded, oft-romantic but not rose-eyed remembrance of The Motor City and really America’s glory days … as well as a sharp shout out to awaken our sleepwalking selves, and once more at least try bringing back a great land of the free.
As you might’ve gathered by now, Michael on Fire plys his craft larger than life, of course … living out his songs on stages for us all … and in essence, daring us to love life as he does … work till our own dreams come true, and just maybe enlarge our own little lives.
Anyone who’s heard his music at all, or sees MOF play anywhere … must humbly thank him for that gracious gift.
Now go catch a spark with Michael on Fire at …
http://www.michaelonfire.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Michael-on-Fire/243920222693
Don’t you dare … ever tell me he will care.
I’m certain … it’s the final curtain.
I never wanna hear … from any cheerful Pollyannas.
Who tell you … fate supplies a mate.
That’s all ….. baananas.
They”re writing songs of love .. but not for me.
There’s lucky stars above .. but not for me.
Maria De Angelis- “But Not For Me”
The curse of an artist … the family lost.
All he don’t have … and how much it cost.
Poets like Dylan … live in his brain.
Is he a writer, or is he insane?
He dresses in black … and he goes it alone.
Is he the writer, or is he the song?
Billy Don Burns- “Is He the Writer”
Come back tomorrow for some behind-the-man good stuff … but right now just throw your ears and heart out there … lose it in this joyous embrace of song- as my paisan Michael throws his ramblin’ soul out there, celebrating our searching out our own path, on life’s journey. “There is no place, that memories won’t follow” indeed.
Aah, The Corktown Popes … my Celtic in The D musical marvels, of The Mitten State. No one can lay a glove on them in full flask fury (Haigh Faustin D!) … these seasoned soldiers of soul assaultin’ sound … as they play out joy and despair, love and hate … Irish reelin’ and rockin’ … layin’ less bare a band’s fate in a pyre wish, wheelin’ off death, when it comes knockin’.
“Tonight It’s Joy” gives us our “put up or shut up” marchin’ orders …
“Let us play while Rome is burning .. sing & dance while kingdom’s come undone“.
After slogging off the modern (everything old is) New (again) World … “I have come to tell you .. TONIGHT IT”S JOY!”
Listen, all you techno-tombed, alleged music fans- either dig this gregarious group of multi-instrumentalists with rollickin’, rock-your-sox-off moxie to spare … or go hide in a dark corner at some rave, like a border rat, dumb soulless knave.
Goin’ short and heart-thumpin’ sweet today, as The Popes like to pound it out.
Answer this one, all you wanna be Gaelic green-at-the-gills …
“For the sake of her presence, the cherubim sing …
as to these smatters of life, that I somehow still cling …
So will you break down like … The man that you Ain’t?”
Good thing Ronnie Van Zant rushed producer Al Kooper in his Bentley to flee/lose a few blocks- this tick tock, Mama’s look into life bluesy rock … didn’t end in plea to (sea) cruise a dock. RVZ just tore out his soul putting out Mater’s guiding, long-as-I-can-see-the-light. No little American pimpled ‘shaver can do better … than be … this simple saver of time … a man.
“To me … you are an anchor and a key.
To you … I would give my heart for free.
Ain’t much to ask for … ain’t much to give …
but I know ours is a love that could forgive.
Won’t come to that babe …
if you could have faith in me … just like I got my faith in you.
But having faith is the hardest thing to do.
It’s the hardest thing to do … and I’m doing it now for you.
And it’s the hardest thing to do.”
Pete Droge of Seattle, WA
“Hardest Thing to Do”
Man, BB & da boys showed them young tattoo punks a thing or two about REAL ROCK N ROLL– in all it’s glorious, harmonious, furious four-fourious, violinous, raucous, can-can caucus, debauchus and surfin’ Seacaucus … wave after wave after wave of heart-thumping, foot-jumping, holy humping, chest-bumping, booty-rumping damn near electroshock-to-the aorta va va voom-umping– and always 1,000% meaningful tales from within … all originating in that pony-tailed, never-failed, strum-sailed, guitar-tailed, song-making man behind the big band- from the heart and soul of his own rock n roll inside … and always diving so very soul deep. Give it up for Big Billy Brandt!
(“Squeezing Out Sparks” Album Review will post tonight).
Whew, this was tough from one of my original chord-cutting, song-slinging, guitar-gutting heroes of meaningful music.
Too much out there- and was gonna (Play “Passion) Is No Ordinary Word” vis a vis meaning to my pure, potent, self-pleasing passion for music. YouTube live cuts abound of all studio recording- the debunking, decrying, dilatante-destroying … exhilirating, exorcising, elevating … and singularly strong as his soul of heart-hardened steel … “Squeezing Out Sparks” album.
Save for too many crowd-focused shots & the original stage upper room view-
THIS SONG IS GP & THE RUMOUR at their mighty most-
masculine, defiant, rebellious, rocking, stye-sticking-in-your-eye … strongest. GP & grappling gang defiantly here dare us to punch their lights out … stab attack back out of our woeful weakness- to stop perennially pathetically pretending … we’re the real deal.
They’re demanding– in my head and heart … that we descend to our knees to reveal … the soul-shrinking, self-serving, self-hurting sinner … that we all know deep inside we must Confess and know we are- Confess to ourselves … Confess to God ... and most important down here on Earth-
begging forgiveness from people we’ve sadly sinned against ... fellow human traveler(s) … against wh0 … we heartlessly hauled away their Heaven-heired, human dignity.
Now let’s be gone with us all … let’s rock it, read it … into our Hearts … and weep … until we’re sin-swearing off shells … of our Original Sin-stained selves.
Amen.
“If I were a God … I’d give you a clue …
this minute would crack … and I could go through.
And walk out in time … where no one has been …
I’d come back to you … and tell what I’d seen.
Oh … but it isn’t … gonna be that way …
it isn’t going to beeee … that way.
You’ll just have to live … and see what you find …
and take it from there … and follow the signs.
Yeah, you think you can live … and dream your own fate.
You think you can wish … and walk through the gate.
Ohhhh … it isn’t … gonna be that way …
it isn’t gonna be that way.”
Steve Forbert- NYC (By Way of Meridian, Miss.)
“It Isn’t Gonna Be That Way”
Pre-video note- GO GO GO to see Howling Diablos tonight- “Quake on the Lake” at Pontiac Lake- www.quakeonthelake.org (too late- it’s over!)
OK, here’s your Motown marching orders- get down to this so joyous, jazzy, jambalaya-spicy, rock ‘n’ roll feisty jam down in the D, at the venerable (& oft rock and roll-rampaged) St. Andrews, hard by Greektown.
DO NOT- SIT like a LOSER at your PC or stare at your I-phone, getting assaulted by this crazed group of Funky D juke joint jammin’ bunch of musical masters- aided and abetted by a buncha hip hop breakin, delirious dancin’ disciples- doing their thang down on Congress, at St. A.
DO- GET DOWN & SHAKE a TAIL FEATHER, Brothers and Sisters!
The only true “Funky Daddy” in The D, Tino Gross and his unrelentlessly, blues rockin’, sweatin’, fall down funkifying Howling Diablos are Detroit musical legends– yeah, that’s right I said it. Anyone with a rock ‘n’ roll brain outside of their big behind knows it around these parts. Don’t like it- then get outta the “D” musical monster mash up, for good- ya loser.
Sixties-soulled, rock ‘n’ rolled & approx. that age- but baited for that big beat bear at all times- tirelessly music-makin’, managin’, producin’, masterin’, layin’ it all down back home again … and pickin’ it up once more, Tino has shepherded the all-star(s) HDs for a couple decades, in and around the D.
Listen, don’t wanna do whole life of musical crawling up, learning, earning, discerning days- no space and HD web site does that. Suffice to say he’s played with all in the D of naturally-nuanced note.
He and HDs have Detroit Music Awards, and Tino on Funky D records helps guide artists to the limber, loping, rail-rocking train on way to playing on that reelin’, rock ‘n’ roll station- on and on and on- everything you’d expect from such a veteran, well-versed, respected fella.
Cribbed from his web site- yes, everybody seems to know Tino, and he knows everybody- and I will humbly add- everybody loves the guy because he’s all real in the D, and everywhere to all- no rock ‘n’ roll ego AT ALL.
And aspiring music makers- that is exactly WHY Tino just plain makes such great music- drop dead honest- he gets in the trenches, and never is above the fray- it’s just his natural way.
(Side pair ‘o ‘graphs)- thus not surprised, besides HDs like searing sax man Johnny Evans, big booming bassist Mo Hollis and grinding, note gashing guitarist Erik Gustafson– Tino also enlisted in the HD mission plan, the man (legend in all our minds), “Devil in a Blue Dress” with Mitch Ryder and Rockets propulsion-pumping drummer- the in-time, trapper of time, Johnny (Bee) Badanjek.
So at mid 1980s Graham Parker St. A. Hall gig, I met two rockers- J. Bee in leather and bandana (as today), a salt of the earth, gentleman to babbling, 20-something fan. And one security slappy-shaded, over-salted ass, B.S. in blue suede coat- yes, that “Rock ‘n’ Roll Never (but he did- where he came from) Forgets” rock superstar. Full then o’ BS in my book. B.S. used side bar entrance for quick drinks- but not to be bugged with brief, “I love your music”- from a guy with first albums, “Night Moves”, and “Live Bullet”.
OK, back to T.– he don’t need name drops- just sayin’ T. did road time with “The Hook” (ol’ John Lee)- and one “be-Geiling” J.(aunty), D-adored singing superstar, bluesologist is a very tight, old funky friend and musical mate. And no one in Mich. needs reminder about up-and-coming Robert Ritchie (Kid R.) gettin’ tight with the HDs (see video)– so the boys could get their rocks off. That “let’s hip hop this funky rock into rapture” robust revelation- back in ’90s at Berkley’s Bear’s Den.
Latest album “Ultra Sonic Gas Can,” “the most Detroit record we’ve ever done” … in Tino’s wise, world sure words … is da D(etroit) bomb y’all- better believe it, buy it, try it and fly it- let it explode in your ears and send flares up your bust-a-move booty. I can wax on and on about the wild trax on wax they laid down- but screw it, you NEED to own it- and DON’T loan it.
You just try to keep up with the breakneck pacin’
Tino and the Howling Diablos–
TimMusic- “I don’t fear the words and sounds … just try holding them close to my heart” 