Tressel, Trazell, Travell, Trome....time for this coach to go home.

Sooooo... it is well documented that I hate Ohio State. Along with Notre Dame they make up the make up the big two of arrogant, self righteous, mighty, we win because God wants us to win and it is the natural order programs in the NCAA. I know a lot of people at very successful NCAA schools. Nebraska, Oklahoma, Texas (formerly Michigan and Michigan State had some claim), Florida, Alabama... you get the idea. Storied programs. But their students never seem dumbfounded when they lose. They are never anticipating that the next National Championship is anything but a year away. They believe it. Every year is THEIR year. But people conspire against them. The refs, the NCAA, cheating coaches for other programs. Everyone is OUT TO GET THEM when you are in the OSU/ND mindset.

Granted ND has kicked themselves around and I really do feel for them because who what talented minority kid would go to a white, conservative, small, academically rigorous school in the armpit of America known as northern Indiana. But OSU? 7 National Championships but you would think from talking to their grads that the last one was just last year. Instead it was 2002. They did have great teams, year after year but in the last 9.... they never took it home. Tressel despite some problems at his last job appeared to be a paragon of virtue. 106-22 is... touched by God (even I see a touch of the design in that kind of a mark) but with their coaches and their players, all of these alumni put these people on a pedestal forgetting that they are just... people.

People make mistakes. Tressel made a mistake. I do not even want to guess or analyze why but the pressure to win in college athletics is relentless and shepherding over even the BEST intentioned 18-22 year olds is a suckers bet. I am sad for the fans but perhaps if everyone put college athletics in its proper place there would be a number of things that might happen:
1. Amateur sports could be just that.
2. Coaches in these programs would not be paid more than the governor or the President of the University. In almost every State the coach of the football team is the highest paid employee in the State. I don’t mean to be coarse, but how fucked up is that?
3. The NFL could start running a minor league as well as the NBA, rather than having it done for them.

In any case, this does suck. The asshole Pete Carroll cheats and cheats and materially damages his school and arguably a lot of kids and jumps to the NFL so his gravy train does not stop. I think, I hope Tressel is classy for that. If he loves the game he will keep coaching somewhere but perhaps it will not be all about the money, the power, the glory... maybe it will be about teaching kids the glory of the game and competition and learning sometimes through losing.

Blah, blah, blah...R.I.P. Jim Tressel.

Concert Review: David Lowery

I come her not to praise David Lowery, but to bury him.

I went to the show with Donaldson and my son Jon. I was really, really excited. I often referred to Lowery as "The Funniest Man In Rock And Roll. I had seen he and his band Cracker ast least 5 times and have the most beautiful memories of seeing them play with Counting Crows at Mississippi Nights. I am no longer sure it really happened but the memory is no less indelible. I am a long time Camper/Cracker/Lowery fan and I attend a reasonable amount of shows each year for an old man of 49.

Johnny Hickman, his long time lead guitar man and collaborator came on and opened and had a perfectly servicable set of country tiwnged rock. leaning on his working class roots he made the guitar sing nd although all the lyrics were much too earnest for anyones taste but the rabid fan, it was a good opening act. earnest and true and he exhibited his extraordinary talent as a guitar player. But Hickman is a side man. An opener. That is none the less extra ordinary but it is what it is. I will never buy his solo stuff. it was (the harshest indictment of all) pleasant.

I was REALLY excited for Lowery. I heard he was going to tell a lot of stories, it made me even more excited. he was always, always an engaging performer with with awesome showmanship. That having been said I have never been more disappointed in a performance, and let down than I was in this one. He came on and had taped down with masking tape his Mac Book. He had a page of handwritten notes and he sat down and began to tell a tale of their (his and Hickman's) time in Iraq. I truly respected what he had done. I was interested.... well into the 5th minute of the story. it went on and on....it digressed...it regressed. It gressed in ways I had never considered which is really quite amazing. then he marched into one of the sweet songs from his new solo CD which if not brilliant, is at least brilliantly done. the song was "I was the man who sold the Arabs the moon". It is a really good song but after the interminable story.... was a dirge. but i persevered. i love this guy and you don't judge a show by one song.

But then he started to tell another story. it too went on forever and I cannot even tell you what it was about and then he started singing "Mery Christmas Emily". A great Cracker diddy that rollicks along in their sad sweet sway. And it was also a dirge. And I started to fall asleep. In an angry, angry way. I went to pee at the end of the song and as I came back he was still telling his third story/song intro that had to do with his love for the English and Victorian times and... I don't fucking know.... but he went into "Deep Oblivion"....from the new CD...and so did I. Donaldson had already left and I was embarrassed I had brought him out When that song ended and the fourth monologue started (and by the way "Deep Oblivion " also seemed like a funeral dirge...I went and got the check. It is always a long process getting the check at the Duck Room. I commented to the bartender that this was the worst thing I had ever seen and he nodded agreement. I paid the check. He was still talking. I got Jon. We began walking past the Cracker merch table....up the steps...he was still talking. One hours... three songs....hell. .I walked out at 11 having heard 4 songs in an hour. I was sleepy, bored and angry. I have always told people that Lowery is the funniest guy in rock but brevity is the soul of wit and he is no Mark Twain. The stories were long, rambling, contained multiple digressions and the punchline was never enough of a pay off. I never walk out. I respect the artist. I bought Neil Young's CD "Trans" for God's sake. The whole show.... 10 SONGS! that included 2 encores.

I know I sound like a grumpy old man but the show left me really sad and the audience sadder. And I hated the audience. they were awful. At least 1/2 of them encouraged him to keep talking. They laughed knowingly. They applauded when he needed. God I hated them. This was not a good show. I have never walked out on a show before in the literally hundreds of shows i have seen over the years. He needs to play his songs. Do short intros and let the music talk because he has put together a great body of work. But he is no Mark Twain.

He is no Mark twain. Someone should tell him. Even now 12 hours later I am incredulous over how un-entertaining I found him and the songs, though bueatiful were dirge-like when combined with the monolgue. Hickman by contrast was light and self efacing and though much less of a lead guy, put on a show. If you have tickets to see him on this tour, stay home. I got on the RFT site and wrote a comment about how bad the show was. I went to the Lincoln Hall/Schubas site where he was playing the next night and begged people not to go. You might think this is harsh but I decided that when Lowery comes through town again I want him to look me up, just so he can punch me in the face. At least that would be engaging.

He is no Mark Twain. He aint even Garrison Keillor.

Message From The Other Side

Soooooo.... as I was wisely waiting for 6:00 to come yesterday evening I was with my family, out to dinner and clutching my Mac Book (TM) to my breast when suddenly the beam of light came down through the roof of the bar where we were drinking beer, eating 5 pounds of chicken wings and (sadly) watching NASCAR on the bars big screen. I of course had been expecting it which was why I was clutching the computer to my breast as I drank my bottle of Busch and ate chicken wings awkwardly with one hand. My family, used to my (for lack of a better word) foibles) made no comment and other than the awkward stares from other people in the bar it was a nice evening.

Once the beam of light hit I was able to see that my plan had worked and I was able to bring the computer up into the firmament with me so that I could keep up this memo as i observe the end times down below. It was a little awkward in the bar in that the beam of light came only for me. I had suspected I was a better (truer, moraller, more rightouser) Christian than the rest of my family and felt a pang for them as I was lifted up, wondering for a moment whether it reflected poorly on me since my wife and children were not going to be saved but than i remembered that God was perfect so he clearly would not have made a mistake and they must have been much worse people than they were letting on.

There were very few other beams of light coming up from the south county of St. Louis which also did not surprise me. I believe my numeroligist compatriots predicted only about 200,000 of us would be going. That had always seemed light to me in light of the fact that there are about 7 billion of us here and God was generally so just and loving but once again, I am sure he had it figured out. One beam of light did hold my dog Lola, a sweet but stupid beast. I looked for a beam of light containing my other dog Lily and than thought...”not so much”. Lily had of course led an evil and selfish life. Looking down and taking it in, it seems that my family is handling my departure remarkably well. My wife just refers to it as “my little stunt” and after trying to negotiate the bill at the bar down due to my absence the family went home and watched TV and drank some wine.

There appears to be a remarkable lack of lava, fire pestilence.... Even war seems to have taken a break. I am sitting somewhere... and I am sitting comfortably although there does not seem to be a chair. In prep for this moment I had researched where I would be going on Wikipedia which described the firmament as follows:
“The firmament was a great tent-like[8] ceiling made of solid crystalline material,[9] which might be pierced by skyscraper and gimlet.[10] It had many windows, some of which opened and closed for the sun and moon to travel through[11] or to let water, which was held above, fall through as rain.[12] On top there were also warehouses of snow and hail.[13] Stars were small objects that were attached tenuosly to its surface.[14]”.
Right now I am getting none of that. My retarded dog is sitting at me feet. The dog is slightly agitated and is drooling and shedding. I do not see a lot of other people who I know although no one seems particularly Beattiffic.

In fact as I look into the distance I see a lot of people hovering up in the sky, stretching and generally looking confused and the group seems rather uninspiring and perhaps... sketchy. Looking down I see that things seem to be going particularly well down on earth. Although I do not see them in the firmament with me it appears all of the announced Republican cantidates for President other than Ron Paul are gone. Al Zurkowi...gone. Muammer Khaddafy...gone. Looking to my left I see a guy who I recognize from his publicity stills as Kim Jon Il and behind him and to his left is...Bashar Assad. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was left behind, Khameni was up here with me. Every principal of Goldman Sachs was with me as were the oil company Presidents and that is what sealed it.

The dawning recognition that 200,000 of us were “raptured” and the rest of the world was left behind and it was becoming pretty clear that the world was getting along pretty well without us. I was looking with some concern and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then it did. And God took Joplin.

***

So it is all funny and in good fun until life interposes itself. Global warming and our hoggish lives moves the jet streams north and Missouri becomes Arkansas and everything including the end of days becomes less funny because for 150-200 of my fellow Missourians, when the count comes in, it was the end of days. And that...that is what pisses me off about this awful, self righteous posers who believe they know God’s plan. Only God knows his plan. But if you have your heart open you can discern God’s plan for you and it is a markedly nicer plan than the life you are living. I know God’s plan for me and that is despite all my weaknesses, petty cruelties, limitations and stupidities... he can do great things with me. And he is. And he will. And I will live forever with god in heaven and hopefully too with my family and dear friends. And these people who claim to know the plan for the end of days... they cheapen it. They demean it. I know I am going to live forever in heaven with God. I would just assume that everyone I know do the same. I think that is God’s plan.

Diner Review: Luvy Duvy's

Soooo....there is always some stress and embarrassed when you have to read about something in the Post Dispatch in order to realize that you should have been there. It is even more embarrassing when Larry reads the Post and calls you on it. I mean, when you ARE the St. Louis Diner Review you do have some things that are just your job and beating the under staffed, haphazard Post Dispatch to the punch is one of those duties. So the Post ran something last week in the GET OUT or LIVING section... or whatever they call it now covering Luvy Duvy’s.

I have seen Luvy Duvy’s before. On my way to get tacos on Cherokee at La Vallasina Luvy Duvy’s sat there, brooding on the corner of of Jefferson and Arsenal. I always assumed it was just a bad lunch and dinner place, doomed to go out of business. Garish pain on the sides and the windows. I had no idea that they had breakfast, There was no signage. Someone should speak to them regarding modern advertising. The building was garishly painted and I assumed extremely incorrectly that it was another “soul food” place like “Sweetie Pies”. I mean Sweetie Pie, Luvy Duvy... you cant blame me.

So the Post gave the place a nice review and said it opened at 7 and like a fool, I believed them. So I drove around south St. Louis. It was Cinco De Mayo (March 7th according to the posters) and they were setting up Cherokee for a party. Cherokee Street west of Jefferson is becoming a cool treasure with the excellent food and the print shop and that incredibly pretentious independent record store that I never know the name of. Anyway, I killed an hour and then went back at 8:05 and there already several cars on Jefferson in front of the place which is a really good sign.

I went in and the place is basically set up like a corner bar. I immediately knew I was in the new cool breakfast place in town. We have not had a cool place in a while. Really the last one was “After” which was on Manchester down in the Grove. It was a “cool” place and this place has a great vibe. Arguably even better than that because it was older and a little darker which... is good in the morning. It was also cool because of the servers. It reminded me of my recent trip to the “Waveland” in Des Moines where I entered and was instantly aware that I was not cool enough to be there. Since this was in the Lou and it was not a directly post college crowd... it was cool but not too cool. I am not sure I used the word cool enough in this paragraph. Are we cool on that?

So I walk in and get a seat next to the wall and start to read my Saturday Post. I found out a while ago that unless you get home delivery, there is no Saturday Post. Not in the machines. not in new stands...nothing. Who knew? It is hard bearing the St. Louis Dining world on my tiny little back but we all have a cross to bear. So, since I do not eat eggs I ordered biscuits and gravy with sausage, hash browns and an order of bacon. The iced tea.... wait for it... FRESH BREWED!

I tried to enjoy the Post as the place filled up and it did fill up. There were posers like myself but they clearly had a neighborhood crowd and a crowd of regulars, just like a diner should. The waitresses were young (under 40, maybe under 30, I can’t tell anymore) and they seemed polite and friendly and not overly chatty (huge advantage). The whole thing is run off of a very small griddle which I think is cool but I also have some concerns when they get a crowd. But mainly my concerns were overblown and for naught. I have become a diner “worrier”. An old woman among men, worrying that they are not doing things right.

Breakfast came on two plates.

The GREAT thing is the biscuits and gravy. As advertised their were two large biscuits (do not ask for half orders, it provides a mumbled “we don’t usually do that”). They were crispy on the bottom and not heavy and hockey puckish at all. A yellow or corn flower might be involved based on their color or they might have just been perfectly browned. They were also covered with sausage that also had a light char (as God intended). The gravy was classic, not too thinck and clearly made with love. Buy this.

The Good. the bacon was top notch. Also cooked with love. But not cooked with LUST as bacon should be cooked. It was crisp (averting the cardinal sin of floppiness) and had a slight smoke. really good. Not great like the biscuits but really good.

The ugly. The hash browns “looked” great. A thin browned patty of shredded potatos. They looked perfect in fact. like Spencers but thinner. Maybe only a ¼ inch of thickness. I was really excited... till I tasted them. I could not define what was off. I will try them again because they looked perfectly cooked but whether it was because the oil or because they were prepared ahead (remember the small grill) they did not match up to the first two.

The eggs I saw on other peoples plates looked cook to order and delicious. There is no chili so no slinger, but on the brighter side, there are grits. Here is the menu:

http://www.luvyduvys.com/Menu.html

You know how I feel about the potato. But still, everything else was perfect and I found in myself a forgiveness for bad hash browns that I had not known prior to this time. perhaps there is still room for me to grow? They also serve beer and following my usual Derby Day tradition, daddy had a Busch.

Who knows, but the bottom line is that Luvy Duvy’s is a keeper. 8 ½ Slingers on the 1o scale.

Concert Review: The Decemberists At The Pageant, St. Louis

Sooooo.... I had the opportunity to see The Decemberists twice on the same tour. Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? do you go see the same band on the same tour? A couple of reasons:
1. Dooling had an extra ticket for Omaha and I needed a road trip; and
2. I am a fan
That is right. My bad old hating, cynical self is a fan of the Decemberists and their pretentious little prick and genius, Colin Meloy. What happened to being a fan? rarely do people gush any more and when they gush at my age it is more likely to be about a red wine or a great deal on a flat screen screen TV. It is a little sad and I am certainly part of the problem berating other peoples taste when they are so bold as to put forth an opinion.

But the Decemberists and Meloy are at the top of their game. Off of a string or pretentious concept albums telling stories through a song cycle that owes more to Shakespeare than to Lou Reed. He is an awful, horrible, dark, talented writer and he is absolutely at the height of his powers. We all know from our prior reading that this type of talent has a shelf life. There are some that are great enough that they have three or four creative high spots in a long career but for most...you burst on the seen for a few years, spill a lifetime (up to that point) of angst... and then either disappear and retire (smart and classy and no one ever does it) or thrash around in irrelevance and eventually end up playing the Ameristar Casino for a paycheck.

So when you get a chance to see someone who is doing it, right now, you go. The new CD will be one of the 10 best of the year. It is a totally accessible CD veering towards being as alt-country as possible, (without a steel guitar) and it is frankly just a fun album with great lyrics.

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
And your labors will be born when all is done

I saw the band in Omaha 10 days before at a sit down concert at the Holland Center. It was one of the first shows of the tour and he was a little tight but he also could not create the requisite energy in a sit down venue. He in retrospect was clearly sturggling and every song had to end with a big finish that would go on for ever and the crowd would clap thinking he was done and then...he would jump again, freewheel with the guitar again and then finally... end. he was trying to put on a show but the crown could not hop up.

And now I was going to see him again because I had ordered the tickets a couple of months ago. On a classic note, I had Jon order the tickets and when I got home from work to go to the show... he could not find them. I go crazy about this type of stuff but he had his receipt for the tickets and was able to (after I had a brain hemorrhage) get the nice Ticketmaster (TM) people to agree to print some more for us at the will call window. Win, win....WINNING!

Once again we had Steve Earle’s son Justin Townes (Van Zandt) Earle open the show and it immediately was a more connected show. The crowd was attentive if not respectful and interacted with him as he told a few stories and sang pretty much the same set. Once again a great opener, warming the crowd up but not raising expectations too much. He really can play guitar, he writes a good song and I will make an effort to buy his new album and see him when he comes around with a full band.

He finished. I had another beer. We were able to stand on the floor about 20 feet from the stage. I was able to get a beer at the bar but could not take the beer on to the floor since it was an all ages show. This seemed a small price to pay and i was able to grab another beer between sets because I was dry as dirt. Once again the lights dimmed. I was once again treated to the alleged Mayor of Portland telling me to close my eyes...imagine myself in a Pacific rain forest (as he allegedly hovered in a large ship over the venue) as a group of strangers wandered through the forest towards us, and they are The Decemberists! Yay! The lights come up and they break into the set and start with “The Infanta” and then “Down By The Water” and I was worried he was going to replicate the Omaha show but then we got “Calamity Song” and I knew it would be a different show.

Meloy was working the crowd from the start and the band was even tighter having performed the show a few more times and they tore it up. I do not know whether the show was so much better because of the venue and being able to stand and stand close to the stage if you wanted, or whether it is because there was booze, or whether it was just better. But it was better. Much better. It was tight and it rocked and I liked the set selection more. He played “Don’t Carry It All” and as if just to piss my Omaha host off he played “The Sporting Life”. It was awesome. The whole set list is below:
The Infanta
Down By the Water
Calamity Song
Rox In The Box
The Engine Driver
The Bagman's Gambit
Won't Want For Love (Margaret in the Taiga)
The Crane Wife 3
The Sporting Life
January Hymn
The Rake's Song
Don't Carry It All
16 Military Wives
This Is Why We Fight
The Chimbley Sweep


Hr did a three song encore and that was that but it was great night at the Pageant and while I questioned seeing them twice on the same tour within ten days.... definitely not a mistake. The new album is powerful. Go buy “The King Is Dead”. Even this early it will be on a lot of ten best lists.

THE OMAHA POSTER!

Lefsetz on Mc Murtry, and Life

I rarely repost whole screeds written by others but one of the only guys who I try and read every time he posts (and he is prolific) is Bob Lefsetz. Entertainment Industry (Music) Lawyer. His theme about the music industry is simple, too many artists and aspiring artists are more worried more about getting paid and getting famous than they are about making art. Visit his site and start following him. He resonates. A little preachy sometimes but he resonates. Lefsetz.com. The piece below is a karma piece for me in that my favorite blogger is blogging about one of my favorite musicians. The whole article resonates for me and echos elequently what I would like to communicate. It also makes me think about being a Christian, being in society, and how do those things relate to "self reliance", "individual initiative" and not letting the government take what is "mine".

JAMES MC MURTRY AT MC CABES: by Bob Lefsetz
I didn't see one person I knew. Either inside or waiting outside for the 10 PM show.

That's the modern music business.

Yes, he played "We Can't Make It Here", but the highlight for me was the opening number, "Down Across The Delaware".

Watch the video here: http://bit.ly/lZgepe (Sorry about the ad, sorry about the localization.)

The relevant lyrics are:


"I heard a voice today I swore I knew
From somewhere down in the southern sticks I turned around to see some ragged stranger Bummin' change on the uptown six And I froze like a stone Could I ever get that low?
Turned my face to the window
There by the grace of God I go"

We're only a motion away from personal devastation.

Most are only a paycheck away from financial ruin.

If you think you're immune you're dreaming. It's the nature of the human condition. No matter how rich Steve Jobs is, cancer got him and he's having a hell of a time beating it.

Which is why you've got to love your brother, keep an eye out for him, pray that the safety net catches you on the way down. We're only here for a short time. Personal initiative goes a long way, but not all the way. You're nothing without society, without people. Maybe that's one of the reasons that Jesse Colin Young song is a perennial, we do all have to get together.

And "Down Across The Delaware" is about separation/divorce/human disconnection. That's another thing that'll break your bank account, put you into poverty.

But before the show James told me we're screwed as long as people keep needing so much stuff.

That's what it comes down to, right? If you raise my taxes, I won't be able to buy the stuff I need. Works whether you want to buy a private plane or purchase a new flat screen. Americans feel entitled, to more, more, more. The concept of sacrifice is anathema. But do we really need all the things we think we do?

And who's going to pay for them?

I hope the economy rebounds and everybody gets what they want. But it looks like the opposite is happening. When are we all gonna pitch in and fix this country. Instead of demonizing the government and asking what it can do for us when we want to give it nothing in return. I mean how do you expect to fill the potholes if you don't pay taxes?

You think you need money to make it in music. You think you need to be ubiquitous. That if you're a journeyman, you're lost.

But the journeyman gets to play forever. His time comes and it never goes.

James McMurtry is up there telling his stories, evidencing all the years of practice on his guitar, and his loyal audience comes to see him.

And that's all there is.

There's no front page story in a newspaper no longer being read.

There's no video on an MTV that's all reality shows.

There's no million selling CD.

There's just the music. And that's got to be enough. Journeymen can't afford backdrops and dancers, frequently they can't even afford a band.

Songwriters are bitching they can't get paid in the new world.

Yes, you can. You can put your old kit bag over your shoulder and go on the road. Those radio dreams are history. People find out about music online and support those artists who are authentic, who are playing to them, not the gatekeepers.

Everybody wants to go back to the past. Well, that's what we're doing. Only it's further back than you contemplated, before CDs, before radio, when you made your living live. Are you up to the challenge?

Postscript: It is a good piece of writing about life as it is in our country right now, which is awesome. And scary. And a great blessing on all of us. I have learned from my life and my law practice that I am only one mistake away from losing my law license and two mistakes away from being alone, broke and broken, and three mistakes from being in jail. "Its so easy to slip." It seems truer now than ever. Be nice to someone today. Osama is dead.