Posted by Mark David Manders
Fri, 24 Feb 2006 12:20:00 GMT
We just dropped by Plano Tire Company and picked up the tire that blew out back in December on our way home from Fort Worth. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed but it wasn’t very high on my priority list. I figured I’d better not push my luck this weekend since we’re heading out to San Angelo. Our trailer spare is flat, and that’s enough to worry about. I’ll have someone fix that tire tomorrow in Angelo.
Present on this weekend’s journey are Mark Lafon, Russ, Bret Fenster on drums, and Grant behind the wheel. We’re expecting rain most of the way, but at least it’s warmer than last weekend. We got a late start today so right now we’re trying to make up a little time. So far the traffic has been light.
Wednesday night Russ, Lafon and I did an acoustic show at Love and War in Texas (the Plano location). It was a cold, drizzly night but Tory enclosed the back patio and had the heaters going, so it was nice and toasty on stage. We were supposed to play from 8:00 to 10:00, but we ended up carrying on until the late hours of the night. It was a fun show and I paid for it yesterday.
I was busy this week helping Bert with the booking, finishing up my taxes, and taking care of sick kids. There’s been a stomach virus going around and yesterday it hit Justin. I spent most of the morning cleaning up vomit off the couch and floor, not exactly the best way to nurse a tequila hangover. Fortunately I didn’t lose my lunch and add to the mess.
The rain is picking up now but I’m not complaining. Texas has been in a drought since last summer and any rain is a welcome sight. Mark told me that Lake Lavon, out where he lives, is something like eight feet down. I have a feeling that when we catch up on the rain it will be in one brief period and include a lot flooding. That’s alright with me as long as it’s during the week and not on the weekend when we’re trying to play an outdoor festival.
We’re in Arlington now and the traffic is beginning to bunch up a little. Once we get west of Fort Worth it should be a lot smoother. We’ll probably stop for gas and a bite to eat in Weatherford. Other than that it’s business as usual, just easing down the road and accumulating windshield time.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Thu, 16 Feb 2006 11:00:00 GMT
Once again I have been a bad boy and fallen behind on my News from the Road responsibilities. A lot can happen in three weeks and I’m sure I forgot most of it, so I’ll just write what I can remember.
Let’s see, the last week in January Lafon and I played Justin Frazzell’s Front Porch show live on 99.5 The Wolf in Dallas. It was great- Max Stalling and 1100 Springs were the other guests. Max, Matt Hillyer and I go way back to the early days when Texas music was first starting to make the scene in Dallas. We each played a few tunes, but most of the time was spent reminiscing about old Dallas haunts like Naomi’s and the Three Teardrops Tavern.
Tuesday, January 31st, Lafon and I drove down to College Station for an acoustic show at Alfred T. Hornback’s hosted by Geoff Spahr. It seems like that was two years ago. I woke up in the suburban in front of Geoff Spahr’s house Wednesday morning. All I remember from the night before is stopping by a club called Shotsky’s after our gig and the owner asking us to play there the following night. We agreed, looking forward to having a full day to relax in College Station.
Did I say relax? Well, it started off like that. Fonzie and I went to the original Freebird’s for a burrito Wednesday around 1:00. Now the original Freebird’s is located on University Avenue about two doors down from the infamous Dixie Chicken. If you’ve never been to the Chicken you don’t know what you’re missing. Mark hadn’t and I felt obliged to show him.
The Dixie Chicken is a true Texas beer hall. You don’t go there to dance, you go to drink. The only distractions are the pool and dominoes tables, an occasional pretty girl, and the rattlesnake cage built into the south wall. (Yes, they have live rattlesnakes in the cage.) Did I mention cheap beer? I can’t remember the exact price of a pitcher, but it was easy on the pocketbook.
After lunch Lafon and I dropped by the Chicken with all good intentions of having just one pitcher and then going to our hotel room to and taking a nap. I can’t really remember why we ended up staying there for so long. I know that we hung out on the back porch with the Dixie Chicken staff for a little while. Geoff showed up at one point during the afternoon, so did a lot of other friends, and the next thing I knew it was evening and my nap had been shortened to thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes is not really sufficient enough time to undo all the things I did that afternoon and I suffered for it. Well, actually my memory suffered more than anything. All I have left are vague memories of playing music in a dark bar with alternating, fears of forgetting the lyrics and falling off the bar stool.
There were a couple of guys who opened up for us that night and I’m sure they won’t make that mistake again. You see sometimes at the end of a show, when it’s just me and Lafon and I know it’s the last song, I’ll try to make things a little more interesting. Mark will start out on a solo and I’ll sneak over to the gig back and pull out a pair of wire cutters. One by one I’ll start clipping strings while he’s playing until he’s down to just one left. It makes for great theatrics, but doesn’t leave much room for an encore.
However, on that particular night I made a big mistake. As Mark and I were leaving, our conversation went something like this:
“Man, remind me to restring that back-up guitar before the next gig. I never take it out of the case at home since I bought that new Takamine. I’d hate to get to a show and have to restring it just before we went on stage.†“What are you talking about? That wasn’t your guitar that you cut the strings on; it was that other guy’s.â€
Apparently Mark had broken a string and borrowed the other guy’s guitar and I didn’t notice. I felt terrible about it. It really was an honest mistake but I doubt the guy who opened up for us will ever believe me.
The following week we had six shows in seven days. The first gig was at the White Elephant in Fort Worth on February 10th, but the road trip actually started the night before in Paris, Texas. Mark and I went up that Thursday to the brand new Big Karma recording complex to see the studio Jim Slaton had just completed. Christie Story from KOYN in Paris met us there and together the four of us worked on some new material and laid down rough tracks.
We started early that evening and by the time we finished it was 6:30 in the morning. Recording is a lot like scuba diving in that once you get started time flies by. I can remember diving a reef down in Mexico years ago. I was under water for what felt like ten minutes. When I looked at my watch forty-five minutes had elapsed. The same thing happens when you’re in the isolation booth in the studio.
It was close to 7:00 by the time I got to bed Friday morning. I think I got around four hours sleep and then it was back home to pack and then off to Fort Worth. By the way, it’s never a good idea to short yourself on sleep before a long road trip. One of these days I’m going to learn that.
We had a good crowd at the Elephant. The only problem was the sound. We could hear everything great through the monitors but I was told our front-of-house was a little muddy. By the end of the night I don’t think too many people noticed it though.
We finished up a little after 1:00 am and began breaking down the equipment. For some reason it took longer than usual. By the time we found a hotel that night it was 4:00. We had an 8:00 wake up call because we had to be in Midland at two for load-in, so once again I only got four hours of sleep.
I tried to sleep on the six-hour drive west but couldn’t. Grant got us to the club a little after two and, after a quick sound check, I made my way back to the hotel and caught a little nap.
The show at the Ranch was a blast. We had the largest crowd we’ve ever had at that club and one table in particular was entertaining me more than I was them. The next thing I knew it was closing time and time to head back to the hotel. No after-parties that night; I had to be back in Fort Worth the following day by 5:00 for the Ranch Roadhouse, a live radio broadcast on 95.9 The Ranch.
The next morning we got on the road early and arrived in Fort Worth an hour ahead of schedule. The Ranch Roadhouse, hosted by my buddy, John Musyka, is broadcast live on the air from Billy Bob’s Texas. I got there around 3:30 and took a quick shower back stage. Grant had left his vehicle in Fort Worth two nights before so he and the rest of the band went home except for Lafon, who was accompanying me on guitar during the program.
After the Ranch Roadhouse Mark and I drove a few blocks over to the Longhorn Saloon to do a benefit for a friend of mine. The place was packed. I think the benefit raised close to fifteen thousand dollars, a complete success. Afterwards we drove home and I got some badly needed sleep.
I had Monday off and so did my kids so I took them golfing. Well, I guess you could call it golfing. A buddy of mine owns a nine-hole, par 3 golf course and driving range in Rockwall, just east of Dallas. We played the first two holes and then drove around in the golf cart for half an hour. I did manage to keep the kids’ interest long enough to hit some balls at the driving range afterwards. In fact, they got pretty good at actually hitting the ball.
Tuesday night Mark and I played a Valentines Day show at Suede’s on lower Greenville in Dallas. The bar used to be called the Boar’s Nest but Tony Alvesano, the new owner, has done quite a makeover on the place. I can’t wait until this summer when he opens up the outdoor stage located on the roof. It is unbelievable; he poured a concrete slab upstairs with an incredible view of downtown Dallas and a bad ass stage.
Last night (Wednesday) was the final show of the run. Gun Barrel City is located east of Dallas on Cedar Creek Lake. The town is the last beer stop for thirty miles heading east due to the dry counties which make up most of East Texas. Sister’s Café is right on the main drag. Bert, our booking agent, gave me the offer last Friday while we were driving to Fort Worth and I said, “Why not?†I didn’t know anything about the bar or its patrons but I figured what the hell.
On our way out here yesterday evening Mark and I got caught in traffic in Dallas and I was afraid we were going to be late for the gig. We arrived ten minutes before show time, but Kris, the owner, is pretty laid back and said, “You boys just start whenever you’re good and ready.†We did a quick sound check and started playing at 9:05, only five minutes behind schedule.
There were maybe fifty people in the bar but those fifty people made me feel as though I was playing the Hollywood Bowl. They knew every word to every song and they didn’t hesitate to sing and call out requests. I’d trade a hundred nights playing in front of huge crowds for another night like last night.
Someone kept buying me tequila shots until I finally said, “Man, the most tequila I’ve ever drank in one sitting is fifteen shots. You’ve already bought me ten. You don’t want to see me after fifteen.†He bought me five more shots. There was so much energy in that bar that I was sober as a preacher when I left.
”Last night we had a pretty good crowd,
they was tappin’ their toes and singin’ out loud.
They heard every song we came to play.
Well, I lost track of time but I suppose
we’d have played all night if the bar didn’t close.
Nights like that don’t happen every day”
So there you have it, a recap of the last three weeks as far as I can remember. I will do my best not to slack in my responsibilities again. Yeah, I’ve heard that before!
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Thu, 26 Jan 2006 01:27:00 GMT
It’s late and I should have gone to bed a while ago but I had a glitch in my computer while trying to update the webpage and I just couldn’t let it get the best of me. It did anyway. I finally gave up and decided to write the next News from the Road before I forgot what happened last weekend altogether. Who knows when this will actually make the web page.
The good news is that upon my return Sunday evening I found that my modem was still intact and not completely destroyed as I had feared Friday. The bad news is that, until I hear from Justin (our web master), I can’t post any of the back entries that have accumulated over the last couple of weeks.
So heres what happened on the last road trip:
We arrived in San Angelo around five o’clock Friday evening. Grant made great time considering we got such a late start. We went to Blaine’s Pub as soon as we got into town and checked in. Blaine was at the club and bought us a few beers while waiting on the sound guy. Once he showed we did a quick sound check and drove over to the hotel to clean up.
Now we normally stay at the Howard Johnsons when were playing Blaines but apparently he struck a deal with the San Angelo Inn so we kind of got upgraded. This was a nice hotel with a restaurant and bar, indoor pool, work out room, all the amenities. Not that I have anything against the Ho-Jo; as a matter of fact I miss Mary, the elderly lady over there who always brought me my room service, but thats another story.
After getting settled in at the hotel we all went down to the restaurant, The Cattleman I think its called, and grabbed a bite before the show. Then it was off to Blaines.
There was a good-sized crowd as we pulled up in front of the club. We all piled out and headed in. It didn’t take long for me to get lost in the crowd; there were a lot of friends present that I hadn’t seen in a while. You know the story.
We started our first set around 9:30 and, what can I say, it was typical San Angelo craziness – people dancing on the tables, throwing beer, etc. A few songs into the show and we started getting tequila shots sent up to the stage. You would expect it to go downhill from there but actually we didn’t go overboard and ended up having a fun time with no embarrassing consequences.
After the show we stopped by Spence’s house over on Concho Street and played guitars until early in the morning. Spence’s house is where the track team congregates on weekends to hang out, drink, and play music. I thought I was pretty good about staying up and drinking, but when it was time to go they had to roust me from my makeshift sleeping bag on the floor.
I woke up around noon on Saturday and felt terrible. I had been fighting a pretty nasty head cold and it hit me full force while I was asleep. Even though I was under the weather I managed to eat a little lunch with Russ and Grant at China Garden.
Grant and the guys had plans to go bowling that afternoon but I didn’t feel up to it so I drove them to the bowling alley and dropped them off. Besides, I had errands to run and I knew if I went with Team Cannonball there was a pretty good chance I wouldn’t make the show Saturday night.
Even though I felt under the weather I got quite a bit accomplished Saturday afternoon. I went by CVS Pharmacy and got some medicine, drove over to Hastings to check on our product, and stopped by to visit with a few old friends. Around 5:30 or 6:00 Fonzie called saying they were done bowling and I went and picked them up. Then it was back to the hotel to shower up before Saturdays show.
Saturday night was just as fun as Friday. In fact, we had a bigger and rowdier crowd. My friend, Fay Anne, told me afterwards that she preferred the first night, not that we had a bad show on Saturday, but because she made it through Friday night without getting her blouse soaked with beer. She wasn’t as lucky the second night.
It was pretty close to 2:00 am when we shut it down. We had decided to make an appearance at an after-party out at Lake Nasworthy, but Grant, who had been drinking just a little that night, had other plans. The band and I hopped in the suburban and I told him, Follow that car that’s parked straight ahead of us. He agreed and as the other vehicle took off Grant promptly hung a U and drove straight back to the hotel. It was probably for the best; we were all worn out.
Sunday morning after everyone had showered we drove back up to the club to do one final idiot check to make sure we hadn’t left anything on stage. We found a guitar case, a few patch chords, and our camera. Blaine was in the club and made us all a Bloody Mary for the ride home.
We sat down at a table with Blaine and started talking and the next thing you know we had been there half an hour. We were supposed to be in Dallas by 6:30 because it was Lafon’s birthday and he had plans that evening. But you see, Blaine and I go way back and when the reminiscing begins its likely to take a while. At one point I caught Grant out of the corner of my eye shaking his head, not in disgust, but more like disappointment, and I realized what he was thinking. He was wishing we could stay just a little bit longer. I’m telling you, San Angelo has a way with people.
Now I just dropped by to pick up my key, and one more Bloody Mary, please
That’s what it takes to get me through the day
I’ve got whiskey bumps in need of healing, and judging from the way I’m feeling
I’m getting much too old to play
San Angelo, San Angelo, I’m just trying to leave San Angelo.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Tue, 24 Jan 2006 21:22:00 GMT
Tonight I swear I hear a coyote howling, not in the distance, but fairly close by. I’m pretty sure it’s the same one I saw before, about six years ago when this subdivision was new and surrounded by undeveloped land. I was driving down the street where the school now stands when he darted out in front of my truck and took off in the direction of the little creek which skirts the golf course. It was mid day and I was surprised to see a nocturnal animal braving the sunlight in a crowded construction area.
Coyotes have always fascinated me. I can remember back when I was fourteen or fifteen years old and I used to camp out near the stock tank at our farm in East Texas. It was before we had finished renovating the cabin and all I had was a tent, a sleeping bag, a shotgun, and my Uncle Pete’s dog for company.
There was a hill to the east of our property where the coyotes and occasionally packs of wild dogs would congregate late at night and howl at the moon before going in search of prey. The worst time of the year was during calving season and I can remember stories my cousin, Peter, would tell me of how he and Uncle Pete would fight off the coyotes with carbines as they attacked the cows while giving birth.
On one particular night I was alone in my tent with the dog after an evening of fishing. I had just finished a meal of fried fish I had cooked on the campfire and was about to retire for the evening when I heard the first coyote call. Sound travels louder and faster in the country, or it least it seems that way when a person is all alone, and I could swear that coyote was within a hundred yards of my campsite.
By the time I threw a few more logs on the fire and zipped my tent flap there were at least ten or twelve coyotes now howling and yapping…and then it was quiet. I knew what that meant, they were on the move. I heard footsteps as they trod across the dam and then silence again. I knew they were close, very close, and all I could do was clutch my 20 gauge and hope that the campfire light would be enough to keep them at bay.
Taylor, Uncle Pete’s dog, was growling and showing his teeth there with me in the tent and I did my best to calm him, knowing that if he tried to engage the enemy all hell would break loose. I could hear the coyotes circling my campground at first in wide orbits then gradually moving in closer and closer until I could see their shadows as they passed between the campfire and my tent. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the coyotes lost interest and disappeared over the dam into the thicket below.
Believe it or not I actually did fall asleep that night, but it wasn’t until much later. I awoke the next morning and felt just a little bit older, more mature. I had passed a test of nature unscathed and in the process I came away with a greater respect for the coyote. Sure, I would still take a shot at them whenever I saw them running along the fence line late in the evening, but I really didn’t aim. I would just a fire a warning shot to let them know that they should keep moving on.
The coyote is no longer howling outside my window now, but I hope I’ll hear him again. My neighbor, Shawn, said he saw him just last week down the alley at the end of our street. I can’t help but feel sorry for this coyote. I’m sure some one will eventually call the county and complain. The next thing you know the trappers will come and try to remove him. It’s really a shame because this was his home before it was ours.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Fri, 20 Jan 2006 21:18:00 GMT
”On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again.”
It seems like an eternity since I have been out traveling with the band. Time off for the holidays is great, but only in small doses. If we’re not playing at least three nights a week I get stir crazy. Thank God I feel the tires moving again.
Last night Lafon and I did an acoustic show at the Grapevine location of Love and War in Texas. It was a spur of the moment booking with no time to advertise, but I didn’t care; I was happy to be playing again. The show was from 8:00 until 10:00 so I was home by midnight.
Sometime around 1:00 am our power went out last night. I got up this morning and tried to work from my computer but I think the modem got fried again, so who knows when I will actually be able to post this entry.
Tonight and tomorrow night were at Blaine’s Pub in San Angelo. I’ve got Lafon on guitar, Russ on bass, and Tony Taylor sitting in on drums. Grant is behind the wheel right now and I feel at home again.
Once again the weather is unbelievably warm. The little thermometer on the rearview reads 73 degrees and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful day to be traveling. Grant said a cold front is on the way, but for now it feels like springtime.
I can’t wait to play Blaine’s again. I think the last time we were there was back in October. There’s just something about San Angelo that puts me in a good mood. The fact that we play Friday and Saturday is a bonus. I love my Saturday afternoons when we have time to visit friends without having to hurry up and drive to the next town.
Right now we’re close to Ranger Hill. Everyone is asleep except Grant and me. It’s time to sign off for now; we have a lot of catching up to do.
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