Stuffed after dinner, we ambled over to Club Dada, where the local Dallas "party blues" band the 1969s were just gearing up to play. We were both too full to stand for that show (sorry guys), but we did enjoy the tunes. Why are there no chairs in Club Dada for the old, fat crowd? I feel like I might have a lawsuit on my hands (j/k, j/k). Here's a jam from the 1969's 2011 EP, "Ride":
Next up was Alabama's own Lee Bains III and The Glory Fires. After our gutfest at the Anvil Pub we still were not fully prepared to rock, but we did manage to stand for the Glory Fires, albeit leaning up against the bar. I really enjoyed these guys. They have a southern/classic rock sound infused with punk and a little R&B, with smart lyrics that remind me of Mellencamp or the Boss. After the show I got to talk to Lee for a little while. My wife says to mention that he is near-intolerably handsome, and she could not look him in the eyes for too long. I was wondering why she hid behind me while he and I shot the shit.
Anyway, I found him to be a friendly, personable dude. I bought their new album, Dereconstructed, and told him I'd feature a few tracks from the album on my little blog here. When I got home, I saw the album is on Sub-Pop - that's the big time, man. I felt a little silly saying "I'll feature your songs on my blog" to a guy whose band has been on World Cafe, is on Sub-Pop, and has been reviewed on Pitchfork. But, Pitchfork only gave the album a 4.5 (I think it's out of 10, but since Pitchfork is contrarian maybe it's out of 11-3/4s). I think it's a great album all the way through, and they were a super-solid live act. And what Pitchfork calls "riff-based blooz rawk," I call good old fashioned rock'n'roll, and no amount of misspelling "blues rock" lessens the fact. "Blooz rawk" is the lamest cliche. So lame that I've used it on CNQ, I'm pretty sure - but not for a while, at least. But for a major music review site to repeat it, in 2014? Lazy writing, one of the many reasons I don't care for their reviews. Anyway.
I'd like to share a couple of my fave tracks, "The Kudzu and The Concrete" and "Dirt Track;" I might bug the band for permission and try to get those on here later. Right now, "Company Man" and "The Weeds Downtown" are currently the only songs from the new album that they have for share online. Both good songs. Check out the Glory Fires live if you get a chance:
Then there was King Tuff. We finally got over having ate too much at the Anvil Pub and were fully human and ready to rock by the time the three guys in King Tuff got on stage. Speaking of Pitchfork not knowing what they're talking about, they gave King Tuff's new album, "Black Moon Spell," a 6.4, and the review, written by a cat named Ian Cohen, is, I gotta say, mostly nonsense. Cohen got out his college degree and his thesaurus and forgot to remember to enjoy himself and the music to which he listens. This album is un-put-downable. My limited frame of reference hears it as T. Rex meets the hookier side of Elephant 6 acts, with guitar solos I'd describe as Mickey Melchiondo-esque. They were great fun to see live, and really positive and friendly with the crowd. That's Ty Segall on drums on this recorded version of the title track:
When we were posted up against the bar for The Glory Fires, there were these two dudes we assumed were hobos who had managed to panhandle enough cash to get in to see the show and buy a beer. It turns out, they were Magic Jake and Old Gary, the bassist and drummer for King Tuff, respectively.
Personal Revelations Dept.: One of my pet peeves is when people look at me and I nod or smile or say something, because I try to be friendly, and they look away, without responding. That grinds my gears and I'm all the time bitching about it. But, at the show last night, during the Glory Fires, Magic Jake (who was standing in front of us, watching the band), at one point turned around, and he and I made eye contact. He smiled, because he's a human being, and because I thought he was a hobo who was about to ask me to buy him a beer, I looked away. When I saw him up on stage, I was like, man am I an asshole - especially because on stage he was so personable, friendly and fun. He worked the crowd like a champ, and made the wife and I both want to give him a hug at the end of the show.
So, Magic Jake, if by any chance you read this, I'm sorry I dissed you because I thought you were a hobo. Living in Dallas I feel like maybe I've hardened up a little too much - from now on I'll remember to be nice to anybody who looks in my direction, no matter if I think they're going to hit me up for a buck or not.
Yes, Quieteers - Magic Jake taught me life lessons, without him even knowing it. That's how magic he is.
To assuage my guilt I bought his 2011 Burger Records album, Magic Jake and the Power Crystals. And surprise, like just about everything Burger Records has anything to do wtih, it's super-awesome:
The Glory Fires put me in the mood for some Mellencamp and today at work I listened to American Fool, Uh-Huh, Scarecrow, and Lonesome Jubilee. My advice to the world: