One year ago today: November 20, 2016, porch goes here.
Five years ago today: November 20, 2012, the 15-year rule.
Nine years ago today: November 20, 2008, DOW Jones @ 7,000.
Random years ago today: November 20, 2013, Foley, Alabama.
Since you don’t want to hear about my medical appointment, here’s what I saw at the Grand Ole Opry. The pre-act warm-up was cheesy, but geared to the audience. A show of hands means the place is half-packed with Canadians. Cameras and drinks are allowed, but no recording devices. Union rules. I’ve heard others complain about excessive advertising, but I found it to be confined to the gaps between acts, which is necessary.
The first act was bluegrass, which sounded original in that nobody recognized it. Next, we heard from the Secret Sisters. They sang “End of the World”, a song that was old when I was a kid. They did okay, both had the same haircut but otherwise didn’t look much alike. Next was my favorite, the Wyman band. They sounded like Riverdance music but the front man was like me. He talked with the audience, not at them. (We’re even, I ain’t never heard of you either. Have you heard my last album—and don’t say I hope so.)
Next was the M-D-G note I have here, who played two guitar ballads. Completely out of character for the location. I’ll say it again, I have never met a man so stupid he could not write a guitar ballad. Next, we had Linda Davis, the piano player. Nice outfits, she looked good. Followed by Dawnie? Donnie? Smith. The show consists for four half-hour segments.
Now up was Dick Hardwick, who is a great comedian. Hey everybody, look at that dog with only one eye. If you don’t know the joke, go look it up. My notes get scratchy here, but somebody like Conny Smith sand a couple numbers, followed by the works act. William Michael Morgan. Take a powder Will, or get somebody else to write your songs. I nearly fell asleep, but they had a couple audience members to a dance contest. Nobody won. Oh, wait, the guy won. Next was Julie Sealy, don’t quote me on these names, she was actually older than me.
The featured newcomer was John Moreland, from Tulsa, 24 years old. His first big show, he sure was lively for a man who tips the scales at 400 pounds. The last singer was Mark Wills, who sang “Jacob’s Ladder”, which I thought was a toy of some kind.
Australia Day.
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Afterward, I returned to Santa’s Pub. Music has changed, my friends. I may have missed the boat, but some people have missed the whole convoy. For a musician, the Opry can be a game-changer. There are bigger arena crowds, but they are not as homogenous and drugged up concert fans are not my setting.
Miami has a long way to go before it could ever draw that volume of tourists. They might get crowds like this on holidays, but that’s it. With the right guitarist, I could have put on a show that at least matched the weaker numbers at the Opry. And I could definitely have put on a better act than a lot of the four-piece groups on Broad Street—because they were playing it all to spec.
The traditional country demographic is gone, never to return. I saw a definite shift to electronic sound, similar to what happened with disco. Live instrumentation was able to recover that lost ground, but this time it is touch and go. The appreciation of live music is undiminished, but the music being played has gone a little robotic. It will be a sad day when it’s all gone.
Back at Santa’s, a $5 cover charge kept the neighborhood out of the neighborhood pub and the place was packed with 20-somethings. Totally unlike when I’d peeked in earlier in the week. I was the grandfather in the place, but I brought down the house with “These Boots”. The entire place stopped and sang along, including the 20 year old babes who packed the stage with me. Odd, because I would have though in Nashville, my act would be one of many. But I was easily the most pro entertainer in the joint. And some of the other Karaoke acts were trio harmonies.
The crowd roared “Encore” but the house said no. By the way, my song list was right on the money for the younger crowd. I repeat, any guitarist who had listened to me fifteen years ago would be on top of the world by now. I’ll put money on it. Just you watch, the next Nashville crop will be acoustic and bass duos, and I had the idea twenty years ago. But could not find one guitarist who would even try.
Last, I managed to kind of sort of insult this top name country start tonight. I did not see her as she walked up behind me and squeezed my shoulder. She said she had never heard anyone do an act like mine. She had chosen by sore shoulder and I whispered, “You got that right.” Later somebody told me who she was. Oops! Hey, most guys never even get that far, so pooh-pooh. The fact is, I was in it for myself. I’m as nice to the world as the world has been with me. And I hate shameless self-promotion when anybody does it. Except me.
Now, it’s back in Florida where the bars say they have entertainment. Yeah, darts, pool, TV. And the jukebox. How about some trivia? Not nowadays, but how did they used to find “sea level”. They put up a tide meter at a lot of coastal points and measured the tides every hour for 19 years. That’s how long it took to cover every possible tidal variation. But then, they began to discover that sea levels swoop upward on the US coasts. And it’s only right they should. Something better was needed and now you got satellite radar.
ADDENDUM
I spent more than I had to in Nashville, including this pair of shoes. C'mon, admit it, they are pretty 'snazzy', fashion maven that I am. My Florida issue shoes were not adequate for the chilly Tennessee air. Shown here, I had to spring for something a little more cold weather. The most congested streets I saw in Nashville were the downtown sidewalks. Once more, I get a quiet laugh out of people who think they’ve sized me up when seeing me write in a scribbler. Look at the old guy so out of touch he has no laptop. Yeah, sonny boys, I grew out of laptops in the 1980s, when I was your age. At the rate you are going, you’ll need to live to 150 to catch up with me.
We talked nearly twenty minutes, and get this, he reports that a youTubers are finally waking up to the concerns we expressed about Google that long ago. Yes, we were light years ahead of the pack, but that nobody listened for so long is proof what being smart is worth to the rest of the world. Wish I’d learned the lesson so young.
I’m now more sold than ever on the concept of the duo wiping out the solo. The bottom line, however, is that the bass playing cannot be your standard set of strung together riffs. Sadly, that is exactly what so many of the players think is the proper role. You can tell. You walk into a club, you are impressed by the solid clear notes of the bass player, but a few minutes later you find you are no longer paying attention to what he’s doing. That’s the situation I set out to remedy so long ago.
Last, buried way down here, I have to record a medical factoid. The pain in my right rib and shoulder got bad enough I checked into a clinic. It took seven X-rays for them to surmise it was nothing more than a “healing process” from an earlier injury (which they did not know about). Yeah, well it was ‘nothing more’ than pain when I move. I declined any opioids so that leaves me unable to raise my right arm, that’s my bass playing arm, above chest level or take a really deep breath. I’m back where I was over a month ago. I’m made some appointments for therapy in January, hoping [I’ll recover enough so] I don’t have to use them.
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