Posted by Mark David Manders
Sat, 11 Mar 2006 22:00:00 GMT
I saw my first blue bonnets yesterday as we turned off of Highway 6 onto FM 2818 just north of College Station. We were just there at that same spot exactly one week before and there were no flowers yet, but yesterday they were in full bloom. Last week only the plum trees had buds on them; this week the cedar elms and post oaks have begun to show their leaves. The temperature outside right now is a balmy 83 degrees and I saw on the Weather Channel that Dallas is expecting a high of 88 this afternoon. It may not be March 21st yet, but in my mind it is officially springtime in Texas, my favorite time of the year.
We arrived in College Station around 4:00 yesterday and dropped by the Hall of Fame to say “Hi†to my friend, Justin. The club was closed, but as we were leaving the parking lot he pulled in. I told Justin we were playing Zapato’s that evening with the Jeff and Ben Band and he replied, “Good luck. You do realize that it’s Spring Break, don’t you?†I hadn’t even thought about that when Jeff asked me to do the show a few weeks back. Oh well, we were already down here and we figured we’d just wait and see what the turn out would be.
After our little chat with Justin we drove into town to check out Zapato’s. I had never been there before and I wanted to get a feel of the place before the show. When we got there I liked what I saw. Zapato’s is a little walk-in Mexican restaurant with a small, indoor seating area and a large, open patio off to the side. It is located directly across from the A & M campus on University Drive.
Grant, Lafon, and I made our way inside and ordered a beer. A few minutes later Jeff, of the Jeff and Ben Band, showed up and joined us. (For those of you who don’t know about the Jeff and Ben Band please refer to the Wednesday, September 21, 2005 News from the Road for an explanation of how we met and why I love these guys’ music.) I ordered nachos from the bar and I swear my food almost beat me back to the table. In less than sixty seconds I had a steaming hot plate of beef nachos sitting in front of me.
It was then that I remembered that we had only put fifty cents in the parking meter outside. I decided to check on the meter while my nachos cooled. When I got to the truck the time had expired so I put in another two quarters. The meter showed 18 minutes remaining, so I dug in my pockets and dropped in another fifty cents. The meter still showed 18 minutes. I thought to myself, “Man, it sure is expensive to park here†and gave up, returning to the club.
When I got back to my seat I found that Grant and Lafon had eaten most of my nachos so I ordered another beer. Grant at that point made the keen observation that there were quite a few students loading up their cars in the dorm parking lot across the street. The prospects were looking dimmer.
Jeff said he had to go home and get ready for the show. Ben showed up a few minutes later. Talk about night and day. The reason Jeff and Ben make such a good team is because they are exact opposites. Jeff is laid back and reserved. Ben, on the other hand, is wild-eyed and unpredictable. On stage their personalities combine to form the perfect comedy act reminiscent of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.
While hanging out with Ben, Lafon decided to go to the truck for something. I asked him if he’d check on the parking meter and he agreed. When he returned he informed me that the meter said “Freeâ€. I then realized that the reason it read 18 minutes earlier, no matter how much money I dumped in it, was because it was 18 minutes before 6:00, when the city no longer charged for parking.
We had a few more beers with Ben and then drove over to the EZ Travel Inn and checked into our room. While sitting around killing time I came up with a plan to raise some additional cash just in case the draw at the club wasn’t what we expected. I called my friend Amy who lives in College Station and asked if she had any Mardi Gras beads. She said she had bags full and brought them by the room.
We left for Zapato’s around 9:00 and upon arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find a large crowd in the patio area. Apparently quite a few students had chosen not to leave for Spring Break until Saturday. My original gas money scheme was to sell the Mardi Gras beads for a buck apiece, but since we had a good crowd I decided to give them away instead. I made my to a table in the back, passing out beads along the way, and took my seat for Jeff and Ben’s show. Chuck, who had driven in from Fort Worth, showed up a few minutes later and joined us.
As usual Jeff and Ben put on a great show. Grant, Lafon and I even jumped up on stage, along with several others, and helped out singing “On the Cover of the Rolling Stone.â€
Lafon and I took the stage around 11:30. We had a good time playing and passing out beads, and, before we knew it, it was 2:30. After the show we all headed up to Taco Cabana for a little barbacoa before retiring to the hotel. It was close to 5:00 before I fell asleep, but the hotel was cooperative and let us sleep until noon before kicking us out.
Right now we’re in Ennis, some thirty miles south of Dallas and about forty-five minutes from Plano. Tonight we’ve got a show in Gainesville and tomorrow we’re playing a gospel show at Love in War in Texas.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Mon, 06 Mar 2006 08:15:00 GMT
We played the Hall of Fame in College Station on Friday night and I have to say that it was one of the best times I’ve ever had in that town. That’s saying a lot. It was one of those nights when the crowd was as geared up as the band and singing along with every word. Some bands get upset when people jump up on stage during a show but I encourage it. Friday night we had a full stage.
We were a little late leaving Dallas that afternoon so I called Ron, the sound man, and let him know that we would probably arrive between 6:00 and 6:30. We made our usual stop in a little town called Jewett, about seven miles west of I45 on Highway 79. Years ago we used to take I45 south to Madison and cut across on Highway 21 to College Station, but now we take a short cut through Jewett and then head south on Highway 39 to the Old San Antonio Road in Normangee. It cuts about half an hour off our trip.
The first time Grant and I stopped in Jewett at this one particular gas station we knew it would become a regular part of our routine. The coffee is fifty cents and they always have something good to eat ranging from barbecue to jambalaya. If we’re not in too big of a hurry we will wash the suburban at the car wash behind the store. For about two bucks we can we can accomplish what would take ten dollars to do in Dallas.
Grant got us to the Hall around 6:15. Ron was ready for us so sound check went smoothly. Afterwards we went to the Motel 6 in town to check in and found that they were full so we drove up Texas Avenue and got a room at the EZ Travel Inn instead. The price was about the same and the rooms were much better than Motel 6. Sorry, Mr. Bodett.
After checking in, Grant, Lafon, and Bret went out for a bite to eat. Russ and I stayed at the hotel and watched TV. Around 9:00 we left for the Hall of Fame once again.
There was no opening act Friday night. We hit the stage at 11:00 for what should have been one ninety minute set. I think we played closer to two hours. We got an encore afterwards and got back up for two more songs.
After the show we stopped by Taco Cabana for a little breakfast. I think we made it back to the hotel around 4:00. I fell asleep but woke up an hour later to the sound of Grant snoring. I always thought I was a loud snorer, but when Grant gets started he draws in so much air that the curtains move with each breath. I timed my shouts of “Shut up†in between snores and after an hour he quit and I finally fell back asleep.
We had a 9:00 wake up call Saturday morning. I had to be back in Dallas at 2:00 to pick up the kids who were staying with friends while Kathryn went to class. She is studying for her Masters and every other Saturday she attends school from eight to five. I’m usually gone on weekends and scheduling baby sitters can sometimes be trying, but it’s only for fifteen months and Kathryn’s done.
Grant got us to Plano at 2:00 on the dot and, after unloading and paying the band, I drove over and got the kids. We spent the rest of the day playing baseball in the front yard before Kathryn got home at 5:30. Once she arrived I managed to slip in a forty-five minute nap before I had to leave again.
Saturday night Grant and I went to Gilley’s in Dallas to watch Heather fiddle for Johnny Lee. Talk about a trip! I’ve never seen so much blue hair in all my life. For those of you who don’t remember who Johnny Lee is, he sang “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places†in the movie, “Urban Cowboyâ€. Some of his fans looked like extras in the 1980 movie, all dress up in rhinestones and felt hats with colorful marabou feathers stuck in the hatband. I really expected to see Bud and Sissy at any moment.
Heather did a great job on fiddle…duh. I wanted to stay and watch her play “Orange Blossom Specialâ€, but Grant and I were beat. We left a few songs into Johnny’s show and drove home.
When we arrived at my house Kathryn and the neighbors were in the garage hanging out and we joined them for a couple of beers. Grant was going fishing early the next morning and left before midnight. I stayed up for another hour or two before crawling into bed for some badly needed sleep.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Fri, 03 Mar 2006 15:30:00 GMT
I got a call from Nick, my manager, last night telling me that Sirius Satellite Radio digs the tune we recorded this week at the palatial Big Karma Studios.
Click here to listen to my brand new recording
It’s just a little spoof on the movie, “Brokeback Mountain”, and I really hadn’t planned on doing anything with it. Anyway, for those of you that have heard the song here’s the story behind it.
Jim Slaton, president of Big Karma Records, called me two weeks ago and told me that he had just completed the recording studio at the Big Karma compound. He asked if I had any new material that we could record and I lied and said, “Sure I do.†The fact is I was only halfway finished with a couple of songs I’d been writing for the next CD.
If memory serves me right that was on a Saturday. The next day I decided I’d better get off my ass and get busy so I would have something for us to lay down in the studio. I retreated to my music room (the garage) where I would have the peace and quiet needed to write. My boys found me ten minutes later and asked if they could help. I couldn’t say no and we spent the next hour writing a song about our dog, Bailey. It wasn’t exactly Grammy material, but we had a good time writing it.
Afterwards they left me alone. As is often the case with me, I began working on one song, got frustrated, started another song, got frustrated again, and then drove to the beer store. On my way back the idea for “Broke Back Mountain†hit me. I think it took all of twenty minutes to finish, but I had some new material and I was happy.
I had an acoustic show at Love and War in Texas to do the following Wednesday with Lafon and Russ, but I purposely didn’t tell them about the new song. I wanted to watch their reactions on stage when I broke out with it. It was worth it, Russ almost fell off the stage.
Last weekend we played San Angelo. Then, on Monday, Grant, Lafon and I drove up to the Big Karma complex to begin recording. We got the rhythm tracks and vocals done pretty quickly. Then, some time around 8:00, Kenny, a drummer friend of Slaton’s, showed up with his drums and his monkey. He listened to the rough mix of the song and told us it would be impossible to lay down the drums because he wouldn’t know which of the alternating five tempos to pick from in the song. In other words, we didn’t use a click track and there was no way he was going to record himself on a song without a steady beat. You see, Chapter 13 of the Pro Tools manual discusses click tracks and Jim had only read up to Chapter 12. But all was not lost; we got some interesting background vocals from the monkey. We couldn’t use them in the final mix, but it was fun watching Kenny coach the monkey in front of the mic.
It was around 11:30 when we packed it up and headed home. I played the rough mix for Kathryn when I arrived and she was not impressed. Granted, it did need a lot of work.
The next day I got a call from Slaton informing me that the Oscars were going to be this Sunday and that “Broke Back Mountain†was up for several awards. We decided that we should finish the recording and send it to a few radio stations just to see if they would spin it. So we set another studio date for Wednesday. Jim called Christy Story to see if she would be available to sing harmonies and she agreed. Grant told me he was in also. Lafon said he wanted to go but Wednesday was bowling night and if Grant were going to be gone then he would have to stay behind and represent Team Cannonball. I understood; after all, they are in the running for a trophy.
On Wednesday Grant and I drove to Addison airport where the Big Karma company jet should have been waiting. Unfortunately, the pride of the Big Karma fleet, Air Force 51, was in the shop for repairs and we had to take Air Force 52 for the short flight to Paris (Texas, of course). Air Force 51 is a six-seater leer jet; Air Force 52 is an older model DC3 and not quite as luxurious or reliable as her sister ship.
This is where things got weird. Shortly after take off the pilot radioed back to the lounge that he was having chest pains. Fortunately, Grant had a little helicopter training in Vietnam. He rushed to the cockpit and took control of the plane. I immediately turned off “The Buddy Holly Story†on the lounge DVD player and made my way up front to assist the pilot. After a quick examination I determined that the pilot was suffering from an anxiety attack and poured him a stiff bourbon and Coke. Three drinks later the pilot was feeling much better but he was too drunk to land the plane. Before he passed out he gave Grant a crash course (no pun intended) in landing the huge aircraft.
The final approach to the Paris International Airport was nerve-racking to say the least. Grant circled the runway several times to burn off any excess fuel before landing. Then, as we began our descent, he had to abort and throttle up again as a herd of cattle wandered onto the runway licking up the flame-retardant foam the emergency crew had just sprayed. There were at least fifty head of cattle blocking the runway and the ground crew was having trouble getting them to move.
Our fuel being almost depleted, Grant decided to make an emergency landing on Highway 82 instead. It was a daring move. By now it was 5:00 and traffic was heavy, especially in front of the Toco liquor store just a mile from the airstrip. Then we had a stroke of good luck. A Campbell Soup truck carrying 20,000 gallons of cream of chicken soup swerved to miss a stray dog and overturned, spilling its contents all over the highway. Drivers in each direction stopped and reversed direction fearing a terrorist attack.
Grant brought the plane down in the mile-long vacancy on Highway 82. Upon impact both rear tires blew and seconds later two fiery rooster tails appeared from behind the plane. Fortunately the plane skidded headlong into the four hundred foot diameter puddle of cream of chicken soup and came to a rest ten feet from the overturned tanker. The Campbell’s soup not only slowed the plane but also extinguished the fire under the landing gear. Several homeless people soon showed up claiming they could smell the soup for miles. I later heard that the FAA, while investigating the crash site, offered the Campbell Soup Company a contract for cream of chicken soup to be used as a cheaper and more effective alternative to runway flame retardants.
After sliding down the emergency exit Grant and I assisted the paramedics in reviving the pilot who had by this time passed out. Slaton showed up a few minutes later, inspected the damage to the plane, and then said, “Let’s get the hell out of here before the law shows up!â€
We arrived at the Big Karma compound around 7:00 and, after clearing security, proceeded to the studio. Christy showed up an hour later. We spent the rest of the evening laying down harmony tracks and mixing. Christy left around 10:00; Grant and I borrowed the Big Karma RV and got on the road around 2:00 for the two-hour drive home. No more planes for us for a while.
So spread your wings and fly,
Don’t be afraid to try.
Pick yourself up when you fall.
Throw out everything you know,
Just make it up as you go.
There’s a little imagination in us all.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Thu, 02 Mar 2006 22:33:00 GMT
170 years ago today, in a one room, wooden building at a place called Washington on the Brazos, a group of Texas pioneers got together and denounced the Mexican dictatorship of Santa Anna. Four days later the Alamo fell. The Republic of Texas seemed doomed as Santa Anna advanced northward and the Texans retreated in what later became known as the Run Away Scrape. It wasn’t until the battle of San Jacinto on April 21st that Santa Anna was defeated in a surprise attack by Sam Houston and his ragtag army, thus sealing the fate of Texas.
For all my Texas friends I would like to wish a very special Independence Day greeting. There is an undeniable pride that comes from living in Texas. We were a country before we were a state and the fighting spirit of those brave men who chose independence 170 years ago lives on today.
What Texan does not swell with pride when he reads the February 24th dispatch from Colonel William Barrett Travis at the Alamo:
”I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna – I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man – The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken – I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls – I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch—The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country – VICTORY OR DEATH.”
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Mon, 27 Feb 2006 12:50:00 GMT
Grant and I are on our way to pick up Lafon, and then we’re heading up to Paris to record a new tune at Big Karma Studios. It’s a beautiful day and, even though we’re a little worn out from yesterday’s drive home, we’re looking forward to laying down some tracks.
This weekend was a classic Blaine’s Pub road trip from the beginning until the bitter end late last night. I’m not sure if I can write about all that happened this weekend in the two-hour drive from Plano to Paris, but I’ll do my best.
We arrived Friday at the club around 6:00, loaded in, and checked the sound. The rodeo was in town and we had planned on stopping by and eating with Fred and the rest of the Blaine’s Pub cooking team who were running the hospitality booth over at the rodeo arena, but we ran short on time. Instead we checked into the hotel where Lafon and I spent the next hour and a half trying unsuccessfully to repair one of my guitars.
Drew Kennedy was opening up for us at Blaine’s so we left the hotel a little early to watch the second half of his set. I hadn’t heard Drew before and we enjoyed his show. I sat down with Blaine at his usual spot and the same cast of characters dropped by to say “Hi†before it was our turn on stage.
We had a great crowd Friday night. The bar was busy when we arrived and once the rodeo let out it got packed. It only took a few tunes and people started hopping up on the tables to dance. I guess we played until a little after one in the morning before calling it a night.
Afterwards Grant dropped me and Bret off at the hotel and he and the rest of the band went to Denny’s for breakfast. Bret decided to make popcorn and we ended up watching a movie before I fell asleep.
That was sometime around four in the morning. I never heard Grant and Russ come in later that night, but I was awakened at 9:30 by a knock on the door. It was Mike Minton, who usually stops by to check in on us when we’re in town. Unlike me, Mike is an early riser and thinks that I need to get up early also; regardless of what time I go to bed.
Mike helped himself to a beer in the fridge. Unfortunately Bret had unplugged it the night before to plug in the microwave and the beer had warmed to room temperature. Mike didn’t seem to mind; apparently Russ didn’t either. He got up and grabbed a Keystone for himself. I thought to myself, “It’s going to be one of those days.â€
Ten minutes later the phone rang; Blaine and Drew Kennedy were in the hotel restaurant. Blaine told me to get ready and meet them downstairs. Mike and I joined them for a cup of coffee and then we drove over to the pub for Bloody Marys. Blaine hasn’t drank a drop since New Year’s, but he had no problem buying a few rounds for his friends.
While there Blaine informed us that bishop Pfeifer, a friend of his, was having a mass for the downtown business area at a place called J. Wilde’s on Concho Street and asked us if we wouldn’t mind going. We all agreed. I thought, “Now, this is a first. I’m going to church with Blaine Martin!â€
Blaine was under the impression that the mass started at 1:00, but when we arrived we were told that the service didn’t begin until 2:00. Since we had an hour to kill we went next door to a club that was called the Spaghetti Western years ago. I don’t know its current name, but thirteen years ago I used to play there. It brought back quite a few memories bellying up to the bar in there again. Jackie, Blaine’s wife, met us at the bar and we had a few drinks before returning to the little shop where Bishop Pfeifer was just beginning mass.
Now I was raised Catholic, but my wife is a Southern Baptist and I haven’t been able to get her to go to a Catholic church more than a few times since we were married. So you can imagine how nice it was for me to actually attend a service in my “native†denomination. The fact that a bishop was performing the mass instead of just a priest made it even better. The fact that I was sitting next to Blaine, who looked like a fish out of water, made it better still.
The mass itself was interesting. Six students from the San Angelo State College of Music, along with the choir director, lead the congregation in singing hymns. Fortunately for me they were not all of the Catholic persuasion and they sang traditional Baptist songs instead of the monotone songs you normally hear in a Catholic church. There was a Franciscan monk present, dressed in a long, brown, hooded robe and beads. I thought monks took a vow of silence, but this one spoke freely and gave an interesting history of the San Angelo business district from its inception back in the 1850’s. The bishop began the mass carrying his holy water in a beer pitcher and flicking it on everyone and everything in sight.
My favorite part of the mass was when the Salutations are given. For those of you who aren’t Catholic, that’s the point in the service when everyone turns to their neighbors and says, “Peace be with you.†The reply is, “And also with you.†It was during this time that Blaine bellowed out to the monk in his deep, loud, gravelly voice, “Peace be with you, Fred.†The monk replied, “I miss you, Blaine.†I later learned that the local priests were instructed not to frequent Blaine’s Pub anymore ever since one priest got popped for a DWI after leaving the club a few months back.
Some time early on during mass Mike Minton managed to slip out undetected. We never saw him again the rest of the day. Blaine made his break during Communion. Jackie, Drew, and I stayed until the end. We could hear Blaine’s voice coming from just outside on the sidewalk and knew that he was having a smoke. I think that was the longest I have ever seen Blaine go without a cigarette since I’ve known him.
After mass I introduced myself to the bishop. He was older, probably in his late sixties, small of stature, but an incredibly nice man. He gave me medal of Saint Catherine and blessed it for me. I’m not sure what Saint Catherine is the patron saint of, but once the bishop found out I was not only a musician, but one that plays at Blaine’s Pub, he muttered under his voice, â€Yeah, you’ll probably need this!â€
After mass we all headed back to Blaine’s Pub to check in. The bishop arrived a few minutes later with the same pitcher of holy water and blessed the bar and most of its patrons.
Drew and I had a beer before hopping back into Blaine’s truck to go over to the rodeo. By the time we hit the rodeo grounds an unexpected cold front moved in dropping the temperature some twenty degrees. We were caught off guard without jackets and decided to cut our visit short, but not before a stroll down the midway to grab a bite to eat. You got to love that carnival food!
It was around 4:30 when Blaine dropped me off at the Howard Johnson. I wasted no time in jumping into bed for a little nap.
Grant and the rest of the band showed up later that evening and woke me up. They had gone bowling earlier that afternoon and then dropped by Mary Anne’s for a visit. Russ told me that on the way to the bowling alley Grant pulled up next to a hot chick at a red light in a pick up truck. The truck had a For Sale sign with a phone number in the back window and Grant took the liberty of writing it down. Once they reached the bowling alley he called her. She asked him if he was inquiring about the truck and Grant replied, “Well, actually we were wondering if you’d like to bowl with us.†She met them at the bowling alley and hung out for a few games.
Afterwards they all went to Ashley’s Barber Shop where they drank beer and tequila for three hours. Grant looked pretty tipsy when he got back to the hotel and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. Mary Anne had sent some tamales back with the band and they lasted all of about ten minutes. Then it was nap time again.
I woke up around 8:30 feeling a little rough around the edges. There’s just something about afternoon naps that leave me feeling worse when I wake up than before I went to sleep. I went and woke up the rest of the band and we left for the club around 9:30.
I spent most of the first set trying to shake off the fatigue. Blaine’s was even more crowded than the night before and there were several girls jumping up on the tables to dance. A few rounds of tequila shots found their way to the stage toward the end of the set and soon I found my second wind.
I guess we played until just shy of 2:00. Our buddy, Spence, was there and invited us to his house after the show to play guitars. We all piled into the suburban and drove over to his house where we found him and a few friends hanging out.
Now if you ever go to Spence’s house make sure you do it in the summertime. Why? – Because Spence never turns on his heater. He said that one month he had a five-hundred dollar gas bill and since then he refuses to run the furnace. Well, by four in the morning it was down right cold in that house. By five everyone there was huddled up on couches and in chairs with blankets and quilts draped over them. By 5:30 I was sound asleep and I didn’t care anymore.
I woke up on the couch a little after ten the next morning and noticed Russ fast asleep on the other couch in the living room. I tried to wake him up and was successful, but only for a minute, and then he was out again. So I found my hat and walked back to the hotel which was only two blocks from Spence’s house.
I rousted the rest of the band and we slowly got everything packed up and loaded into the suburban. Then we drove back to Spence’s and got Russ.
Our next stop was Blaine’s Pub to break down our equipment for the long drive home. Blaine was at the bar along with Nelda and Anna, who had worked the night before. I had planned on having just one Bloody Mary before I left but Nelda and Anna bought us a round of tequila shots and they went down way too smoothly.
Now I have to tell you about something that Heather, my old fiddle player, used to say when we were on the road. She had what she called the twelve steps of becoming a Manders. I can’t remember what they all were right now but I can tell you one of them was falling asleep with a beer in your hand and not spilling a drop. That ranked somewhere around step five or six. Drinking tequila before breakfast was a little higher on the list.
So you can imagine how hard I laughed when Grant said, “Damn, Manders, you must be rubbing off on me. This tequila is the best I’ve ever had. Next round’s on me.†The sad part is he was our driver.
I guess we sat there for a little over an hour before we finally decided to hit the road. I was exhausted and fell asleep before we hit Abilene. I woke up a few times to the music blaring and Grant telling Russ, above the music, to “Beer me.†One time I woke up and we were in a drive-through beer barn in Ranger.
As we got a little closer to Dallas we turned on 99.5 The Wolf to catch Justin Frazzell’s Front Porch Show. Somewhere toward the end of his program I fell asleep again. I didn’t wake up until we reached my house. That was right around 9:00. I said “Goodbye†to the guys and made my way into the house to relax without the sound of tires humming in my ears.
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