Another Night in Austin with My Friends

Tom's Open Mic May 7, 2015

Sixteen-hundred miles from Philly, fifteen blocks from Merle and Willie,
No one famous, everyone pretends.
Suntan lines all over me, Friday nights at the A.S.G.,
Looking down from the heights where the river bends,
Six cold Shiners in my fridge, bats are flyin' from Congress Bridge.
Guitar music rising as the night descends.
Barbeque at the downtown Stubbs, midnight shows at the Saxon Pub,
Longhorn autumn days that never end.
And another night in Austin with my friends.

From “Sixteen Hundred Miles from Philly” by Adam Belsky
http://kissmyblackass.bandcamp.com/…/sixteen-hundred-miles-…

I have a theory that you can’t write a bad song with the word Texas in it. Just naming a city in Texas is probably enough to get you a good song. Plenty of songs illustrate my point. “Miles and Miles of Texas.” “Waltz Across Texas.” “T for Texas.” “You Aren’t from Texas.” “San Antonio Rose.” “Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind?” “Dallas.” “Fort Worth Blues.” “El Paso.” “Amarillo by Morning.” “London Homesick Blues.” And one of my favorites -- “Screw You. We’re from Texas.” Ray Wylie Hubbard tells a story about being inspired to write that song when a rich couple from Nashville came into a bar he was playing at and asked him to play a recent Nashville hit. Ray Wylie didn't know that song so they requested another top 40 hit. Ray Wylie ultimately told them that he only plays songs he or his friends write and then, on his next break, he went out in the alley and wrote the first verse of “Screw You, We’re From Texas.”

I love that story. ACL and SXSW may be trying to make some big bucks off of the Austin music scene but for the most part, Texas music is more about democracy than capitalism. There just hasn’t been a middle man between the consumers of music and the musicians the way there is in Nashville. Live music is about listeners and performers sharing the same space. Here in Austin, often there’s not much difference between who’s in the audience and who’s on the stage – everyone in the room may be a musician. Because the music scene here isn’t built around the record industry, Texas songwriters have not been locked up in a Nashville “verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/chorus/out” straitjacket approach to songwriting. Hell, tell a Texas songwriter that Nashville doesn’t like waltzes and you’ll probably find yourself listening to a string of waltzes. The result of that independent spirit is that the voices and stories of Texas songs are unique and authentic. And in my opinion more creative.

I’m using as the title of these posts about Tom’s Tabooley Open Mic a line from a song by Texas songwriter, Adam Belsky, who also happens to be my friend and partner in crime at Tom’s. I like the song because it captures something sweet and real about a place I love and shines a light on things I’ve experienced: BBQ at Stubbs, Shiner beer, the Congress bridge bats, the Saxon Pub, Friday night open mic at the ASG (Austin Songwriters’ Group). I particularly like the refrain – Just another night in Austin with my friends. I’m appropriating it because it’s not just about Adam and it’s not just about what has already happened. There are plenty of music-filled nights in Austin with our friends ahead of all of us.

The next one is tonight at Tom’s. If the past is any indication of what the future holds we’re in luck. So far, in four weeks we’ve had over 40 performers on stage at the Tom’s Open Mic. Last week, 18 singer/songwriters/players performed unique and authentic songs: Tracy Weinberg, Scott S., George Ostrich, Eric John Bilyeu Ornelas, Jim Adams, Gregg Miller, Nita Lou Bryant, Zach and Cameron, Rose Gabriel, Paul Wright, Barclay Wright, Mickey Moore, Peggy Wright, Roger Edmondson, Katya Lalli-Butera, Patti Dixon and Daniel Schaefer. It was so much fun to see Paul Wright play with his nephew, Barclay Wright, and to hear, UT students Zach and Cameron, harmonizing with each other. I loved Roger Edmondson's song “Rusty Things” and Peggy Wright’s song about her mother. I can’t wait to see who comes out tonight and to hear some more terrific songs.

Sign up is at 6:30. Music goes from 7 to 10.

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Another Night in Ausin September 15, 2015

ANOTHER NIGHT ON GUADALUPE WITH OUR FRIENDS

Last Thursday night after we’d put away all the sound equipment at the end of the open mic and settled up with Tom’s Tabooley, Adam and I were standing in the alley by my car talking. Reviewing what a good night it had been. Again. While we were talking a white suv pulled up at the end of the alley – about 50 yards away – and parked there. The people inside the SUV were being raucous and loud and though I wasn’t paying attention I guess I was aware that they had the doors open and were singing. Loudly. And yelling. At some point it seemed like they started yelling at Adam and me. I said, “Do they want us to sing with them?” And even though I don’t think they could’ve possibly heard me from that distance, at that moment it became clear that they were yelling something along the lines of “YEAH! Sing with us!” and that the song they were singing was Drift Away. They were challenging us to sing with them, but I really don’t think they had much faith that we would. I wonder if it’s a universal truth that young people don’t think people older than they are know how to have fun. If it is, Adam and I pushed back at the notion. Without any cue or consultation, both of us just started singing at the same time, loudly, giving it all we had: “Give me the beat boys and free my soul. I want to get lost in your rock and roll. . . . . And drift away.” I know. They were just drunk college kids. Nothing unusual about that a block from Guadaulpe on a Thursday night. But I love it when people sing when they aren’t supposed to. A cappella. On key or not. Just because they’re having too a good a time to simply talk. 

That’s how much fun Adam and I are having hosting the open mic at Tom’s Tabooley. So much fun we burst spontaneously into song at the least encouragement when it’s all over. Last Thursday was particularly fun for a couple of reasons. For one thing, Adam was back after a week away. We were glad to have him and I think it’s safe to say (judging from the pictures he took) he was glad to be home. For another, we had a terrific list of performers – Carlos Rumba, Charles Clark, Greg Engle, Stuart Burns, Gregg Miller, Roger Edmondson, E (Eroch McFrazier), Tracy Weinberg, and Jack McCabe. Tracy and E both debuted great new songs. Tracy’s “She Can Only Fly” was outstanding. For me, it was the highlight of the evening. Because we had time for once, we got Adam to get up and close us out with his classic hit 1600 Miles From Philly (which you can listen to for free at https://kissmyblackass.bandcamp.com/…/sixteen-hundred-miles…). 

We’re back this week. Sign up at 6:30. We’ll start singing at 7.

https://www.facebook.com/725647574214935/photos/gm.820842421327007/750170371762655/?type=1

Little wings on a butterfly create hard desert winds.
Little things go unnoticed but cover the worst of our sins.
Little acts hardly mentioned set angels to dancing on pins.
From the tiniest ripples the mightiest currents begins.
Adam Belsky

I kind of think of open mics as a grass roots movement. The slogan of the movement might be something like this: “We’re all artists.” Doesn’t matter who you are, you can be more than a consumer of art; you can be a creator, too. You don’t have to have your name in the marquee lights or be rolling in dough to be an artist. All you have to do is make art. 

Apparently the movement is not just a ripple in my little pond; it’s more like a huge wave. Our friend, Les Baca, just finished a transcontinental tour of open mics. Seems to me she found open mics everywhere she looked. I started off my trip to Europe three weeks ago in Paris which has a hopping open mic scene. Brad Spurgeon’s Thumbnail Guide to Open Mics in Paris lists 31 regular open mics every week. In the five days I was there I played at three: Le Highlander on Wednesday, Le Tennessee on Thursday, and the Pop-in on Sunday. Every one of those venues had a full house of enthusiastic performers and listeners. Though the audiences were a little more rambunctious than a “listening room” audience, they were listening. Taking every opportunity they could find to sing along, applauding each performer. What impressed me was how many people were there just for the show – not because they were performing or had a friend performing. They came because it’s fun to listen to musicians trying out their songs and cheer them on. And most of the performers were there for the long haul. Those who performed early on the list stayed late and those who played late, waited patiently listening to those on the list before them. 

Grassroots movements are all about the little things. Like showing up to help after the flood. Or taking a seat at the at the front of the bus. Seems to me that listening is an important element of the open mic grassroots movement. Or maybe it’s just a little kindness we do for each other. One way or another it’s been so much fun to watch that happening at Tom’s Tabooley every week. Even on the weeks when I can’t be there, I know people are there on stage trying out their art and other people are listening and encouraging them to keep on making art. 

Last week Brandon Bentley filled in as guest host and veteran Tom’s performers -- Keith Martin, Nichole Wagner, Zach and Cameron), Carlos Rumba, Katya Lalli-Butera, Rose Gabriel, Jim Adams, Magic Jack, Gregg Miller, Marc Windom, Rusty Nelson – all showed up to play their songs and support each other. We were so glad to have seven newcomers: John Evans, Jeff Ellis and Greg Radcliffe, Ula and Dr. Greg, Rane Alan and, our old friend and fellow ASG member, Tom Cottar. I was sorry to have to miss and look forward to being there again soon. 

As always we are grateful to those who played and those who listened. 

The beautiful and incredibly talented Rose Gabriel will be filling as host tonight. I think Rose may well be a grassroots movement on her own. I know it’s going to be fun. Come out and sing about your favorite father (or anything else that strikes your fancy) in honor of Father’s Day. 

Sign up’s at 6:30. Music starts at 7.

Its a comforting thing
To hear a stranger sing about the hurt you know so well.
***Adam Adam Belsky (from Maybe a Teardrop 
***https://kissmyblackass.bandcamp.com/track/maybe-a-teardrop)
*******************

Back before I was a songwriter or even thinking about being a songwriter, I felt a kinship with songwriters. Not that I don’t feel a kinship now – I just mean that the feeling predates my membership in the group. And really I don’t think it has much to do with my becoming a songwriter myself. I think it has to do with how vulnerable songwriters make themselves. My favorite delivery mechanism for music has always been a live performance in a small venue. I’ve always preferred stripped down, underwhelming arrangements of original songs performed by the artist. Sometimes people use the word “intimate” pretty loosely to describe public interactions, but honestly, I have sat in the audience and felt what I can only describe as intimacy with a songwriter who’s never even made eye contact with me. I puzzled over it for years and came finally to this conclusion: when songwriters reveal their pain authentically and artfully, my pain becomes a little more bearable. It makes me feel known and less alone to hear a songwriter singing about a brand of heartache or disappointment or failure or joy that I know like the back of my hand.

Tom’s Tabooley is as good a live venue for that kind of experience as any I’ve ever been in. I’m not saying that just because it’s where our open mic is; it’s really a great room with a great stage, a great sound system, and comfortable chairs. And as far as authentic and artful goes, we’re Grand Central. Our last open mic on August 27 was no exception. We had fantastic performances by Mike Hidalgo, Nichole Wagner, Gregg Miller, Luke Nukem. Roger Edmondson, Magic Jack McCabe, Steve Baldino, Natalie Sun, and Rusty Nelson. On top of that three songwriters debuted brand new songs on our stage: Paul Jaguar Rising, Jim Adams, and Steve Callif all debuted brand songs on our stage.

We’re back again this week. Sign up at 6:30. Music is from 7 to 10.

Muse ain’t got no mercy
When it’s tillin’ up your pride
Harvestin’ and sowin’
Songs from deep inside
Mike Eastman
__________________________________________________

Most of the songwriters I know feel surprised sometimes (if not every single time) by a song they’ve written. There’s something mysterious about where songs come from. Something a little wild and out-of-control about songwriting. Last Thursday at Tom’s Tabooley. I was asking the songwriters who played to talk a little about what their process was like. Does it start with a melody? A hook? A story you want to tell? No surprise that most people said it happens different ways with different songs. Some start with a lyrical phrase, some with a chord progression, some with a melody. Carlos Rumba talked about dreaming a song and many of the rest of us (me included) reported having the same experience. Almost everyone said that sometimes it’s like lightning strikes, and the song is just there – done – before you even know what hits you. Once when I described having that happen to me to my friend and fellow songwriter Scott Romig, he said, “I know what you mean. It’s not like you wrote that song; it’s like you’re just the first one who ever heard it.” 

About halfway through the night, Mike Eastman got up and sang a song about songwriting that peeked into another dimension of the conversation we were having. The song – “Deep Inside” -- is about writing a song that reveals more about you than you want to reveal. I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I’m willing to bet that every other songwriter in the room did, too. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post on here about my feeling that when songwriters reveal their own pain genuinely and artfully they make my pain more bearable. That’s my perspective from the audience. As a songwriter I have to say that I know those songs come at a price. You’d like to keep a little dignity, not expose yourself completely, but you really can’t explore the deeper territory AND stay shielded and safe. You can’t write “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” or “Sunday Morning Coming Down” or “Feeling Good Again” or “Hello Walls” without tearing a hole in your own mask. I’m not saying that every song that seeks that deeper truth succeeds like those songs; I’m saying – whether the song succeeds or not – it’s no picnic to lay your secrets bare. In fact it’s scary. When it happens it feels like, as Mike puts it, “the muse ain’t got no mercy.”

The conversation about songwriting as well as the songs last week at Tom’s were inspiring thanks to the wonderful songwriters and musicians who came out to play: Charles Clark, Carlos Rumbaut, Greg Engle, Jim Adams, Stuart Burns, Roger Edmondson, Gregg Miller, Daniel Schaefer, Mike Eastman, and Craig Marshall. We were glad to welcome two newcomers to our stage: Tilly and Owl Offer. And to showcase two world premiere song debuts: Gregg Miller’s “Dreaming on the Moon” and Daniel Schaefer’s “El Mejor Amigo.” 

Come on out for another inspiring show this week. Sign up at 6:30. Music is from 7 to 10.

Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down
And they all lead me straight back home to you.
Gram Parsons

Last week at Tom’s Tabooley we were talking about Gram Parsons. It started because 1st-timer Allison Fischer told me that she was a big fan of his. I’m a big fan, too. In 1971 my first husband initiated courtship by sending me a Flying Burrito Brothers Album. It was a masterful romantic move. Ultimately the marriage was not as well-conceived as the gift, but four decades later, I’m still devoted to Gram Parsons. With good reason, I think.

My high school – Aldine -- sat in the middle of a cow pasture right next to Interstate 45 on what was then the outskirts of Houston. You could choose between counting cows or cars if you found yourself staring out the window in the middle of an incomprehensible Chemistry class. I doubt anyone at Memorial High School – down in the heart of the best neighborhood in the most urban part of Houston -- ever thought about us at all, but for some reason out there at Aldine we were a little (or a lot) worried that the kids in cooler schools thought of us as rednecks. Sometimes we would try to embrace it. I remember a pep rally in which the cheerleaders led us to chant “Go Goatropers Go” although our mascot was a Mustang. When we weren't mustering every bit of reverse snobbery we could, we were wishing that we could be perceived as surfers (like the kids at Memorial). Not as goatropers. We made up for our insecurity by taking as many drugs as the surfers and embracing rock ‘n roll with our whole hearts. We would hang out down at Allen’s Landing at Love Street Light Circus where the 13th Floor Elevators or Shiva’s Headband were playing and girls in white go-go boots were dancing in cages beside the stage. Same place the kids from Memorial were hanging out I’m sure. We listened to Hendrix and Steppenwolf. Led Zepplin. Janis Joplin. We had the White Album committed to memory. 

But, for me at least, it wasn’t all that simple. I’m not saying there was anything contrived about my love of the Beatles or Bob Dylan or Crosby, Stills, and Nash. There wasn’t. They shaped me. But I existed before I knew about them and the music that shaped my parents had a bigger part in making me than I wanted to admit. Part of the strategy for dodging the goatroper label was demonstrating a disdain for country western music. We were supposed to be rebelling against our parents and all Okies from Muskogee. But you couldn’t escape country music in Texas, and I couldn’t help loving it. Though I tried hard not to. I remember the first time I heard Tammy Wynette sing "Stand by your Man." It came on the radio as I was pulling into the driveway after dark, alone in my mother’s car. Undoubtedly coming home from an evening that involved rock ‘n roll in some way. I was powerless to change the channel or turn off the radio. Even before I heard any words, the hard core twanging guitar lead hit me like heroin. Still, after a lifetime of feminism that flies in the face of those lyrics, I can’t resist that song. I sat there in the driveway with the motor running listening till the very end. I would have played it again if I could have. I didn’t know what to do with that. The love I felt for country music. I couldn’t give it up even though I was committed to rock ‘n roll. At the same time I didn’t want to be a goatroper; I wanted to be a surfer. 

That’s why Gram Parsons’ music captivated me. And my first husband. We both felt a kinship with Gram Parsons. It was clear he loved both kinds of music as much as we did. On top of that, he saw past the black and white, left and right dualistic thinking that had my high school by the throat. He realized that our relationship with music isn’t monogamous or even tribal. It transcends boundaries like genre and region. Other people were doing that at the same time, but honestly I don’t think any single individual pioneered that frontier, crossing borders and coming back again to introduce would be enemies to each other and turn them into friends as well as Gram Parsons did. There’s no doubt in my mind that Austin has been the homeplace of an important 20th century artistic movement and that songwriters like Willie Nelson and Townes Van Zandt sowed the seeds of that movement. But, Gram Parsons plowed the field. 

Last week at Tom’s Tabooley in response to the conversation about Gram Parsons, Stuart Michael Burns reminded us of how sad Parson's early death was by singing Emmy Lou Harris’s beautiful song about her grief – "Boulder to Birmingham." Stuart is a masterful songwriter himself. We’re honored to claim him, Adrian Nye, Carlos Rumbaut, Charles Clark, and Fred Spence all of whom were with us last week, as regulars. We had some fantastic newcomers joining us, too. First-timer Bryan Bodkin, who’s from Shelby, Ohio, started us off with an outstanding performance. Newcomers Andrew Castro and Xochitl of Sacramento closed the show with great sets. In between we had outstanding performances by newcomer Joseph Henry of Lafayette, LA. And by Allison Fischer. Allison was making her open mic debut on our stage, and it was a dynamite first-time performance. One of the things we hope for Tom’s Tabooley is that it will give emerging songwriters a stage to try out their art and let their lights shine. You couldn’t ask for a better debut performance than Allison’s. Gram Parsons would be proud. To top it all off we had two new songs debuted on our stage: “Bed of Coals” by Adrian Nye and “Tennessee Whiskey” by Fred Spence. 

This week, we’ll start at 7 just like always and go until 10. Sign up starts at 6:30. I have good reason to believe that Ordinary Elephant is going to be with us, and I'm really looking forward to welcoming them to our stage. I think this week I’m going to try a cover of a Flying Burrito Brothers' song