Stuck Inside of Boulder with The Memphis Blues Again

Apparently I woke juxtaposing Memphis and Bob Dylan.  But with the IBC Preliminary Band Round here at the Outlook this Sunday, ‘tis no wonder I’ve Memphis on my mind. 

But first, tonight.  The wildly energetic Jason Downing will be here with Musketeer Gripweed, and it’s been quite some time.  Jason has unique approach to music, and he’s fun to watch.  See you tonight, Jason.

Tomorrow night brings one of my favorite’s back; Maynard Mills.  The last time he was here, Gretchen Troop and her husband, Biff, were thinking of going out, and so I suggested the Outlook for Maynard since they’d not heard him before.  They picked me up, and on the drive over told me they were only staying for the first set.  I thought to myself, “We’ll see about that.”  By the third song, they were both asking me how it was they’d not heard him before.  We stayed for both sets. 

Saturday night Paul Soderman and BluesHouze is back!  It’s been a long time coming, so don’t forget if you want to get a seat come early, however with them it’s usually come early if you want to get in.  And rest up, because there is always a very crowded dance floor for these guys. 

Do You Remember The Very First Day Of September...

Ok, so I kind of paraphrased Earth, Wind and Fire there, but it fits. Love was changing the mind of pretenders...

Speaking of pretenders, before I go any further, a Craigslist ad was brought to my attention this morning, and I’d like our readers to know WE DID NOT PLACE THIS AD AND IT HAS NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO WITH THE OUTLOOK. Here’s the ad:

“Looking for a Blues Band (Colorado)

Date: 2011-08-31, 4:39PM MDT

Reply to: comm-emg3w-2575956816@craigslist.org

If you are a local blues band and you have not yet played at The Blues and Greens Restaraunt in Boulder.................then I would like to see a pic, bio and hear your music.”

First of all, if I were to place an ad, the spelling and grammar would be correct. Just sayin’. Second, it’s not THE Blues and Greens, it’s Blues & Greens. We at least know the name of the venue, sheeeesh! Amateur!

Ok, so on to the Blues! Tonight is the long-awaited Clay McClinton show! We’ve all been wondering about the Son of Delbert, but we know that he grew up with the Blues in his blood, listening to the best. I can’t wait to hear this future of the Blues Ambassador. And I have to admit that since his posters have been hanging around the room for about four months now, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that he’s something of a cutie pie. Again, just sayin’. Here’s something tasty:

“Clay's musical virtuosity shines with the release of his third album, Livin’ Out Loud (2010). He blends Americana and Texas blues with a touch of country to give us a tremendous follow up to his two previous releases—Out of the Blue (2004) and Son of a Gun (2006). Livin’ Out Loud is openhearted and thoughtful, and often explores the tension between the love for adventure and the longing for home. Clay has taken grand leaps both as a singer-songwriter and as a musician, and the eleven tracks also foretell of great things to come. Much like his earlier albums, Clay wrote or co-wrote ten of the tracks. He was honored to write with Bruce Channel, Dave Duncan, Rob Roy Parnell, Ricky Ray, and of course, Delbert. He produced the album with Kevin McKendree, a longtime family friend as well as Delbert’s piano player. Clay describes the process of creating the album with these and other great musicians as one of self-discovery and personal and professional growth.”

To Jason, Shawn, and Todd, With All My Love

It’s been a bit more than a year since one of my favorite bands disbanded; Jason Ricci and New Blood were one of those bands that always filled a room, and we certainly miss them as a unit. There is a lot I can say but I think the review I wrote the first time I heard them almost five years ago, is pretty much to the point:

New Blood for the Blues

For centuries there has existed a rare, temporary medical condition striking a dozen or so tourists annually in Florence, Italy, the cradle of Italian Renaissance, and a city which simply groans under the weight of her myriad masterpieces. For these few tourists, encountering masterpieces pretty much wherever the eye lands, creates symptoms including amnesia, dizziness, and disorientation, and often requires a hospital stay. French novelist and writer Marie-Henri Beyle, known as Stendhal, was struck with the malaise in 1817, thus finally giving the illness a name: Stendhal Syndrome.

Boulder, Colorado has recently experienced an opposing variation of this rare malaise, in that rather than the visiting tourist being struck, it is the locals who are visited by it. And it’s not as much a visual attack, it’s an oracular one. It’s known as “JRS,’ or Jason Ricci Syndrome, and it clobbers Boulder periodically. The symptoms are the same. The treatment, however, rests not in minimizing the exposure, but intensifying it. The patient becomes incapable of resisting finding JRS-related masterpieces online and listening for hours on end, abandoning sleep and nutrition. And on occasion, all mental reason.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like The Beiber?

Like many a Blues fan, I am frequently frustrated at the fortunes of mediocre, auto-tuned talent, while geniuses like Pinetop Perkins and Honeyboy Edwards have to work well into their 90’s to keep food on the table. It isn’t fair, but it is our actuality.

I was in the middle of a big move when the news of Amy Winehouse’s untimely death hit the wire, and was leveled with sadness at the loss of such a talent. I’ve been thinking a lot about her, one of those rare artists who captivated the masses without requirement of bells and whistles, just that raw, scarcely-found innate talent. I don’t often find myself thinking about globally popular musicians, nor the pop world in general, but now that I have, I’ve come to realize a few things:

First of all, I don’t think Justin Beiber is a problem, and in all candor, I’ve only heard approximately four minutes of his music, so I’m too ill-informed on the subject to pass judgement, beyond that those four minutes didn’t speak to me. It is here I must disclose that when I was ten, I was all about Donny Osmond and Michael Jackson, so I do understand the appeal to young girls. And since that will never change, the Blues world needs to embrace it. And I have just the magic weapons to get the Blues into the hands, ears, and hearts of the next generation: Austin Young, Jack Gaffney, Taylor Marvin, Nic Cottonseed Clark, Noah Mast, and Forrest Raup. The oldest in this fantacy band is seventeen.

Given the technology we have today, stars are being made on You Tube. The trick is to get something to go viral, and viola! At the risk of sounding exploitative, all these guys are good looking, charming, and DAMN talented. And whether we want to admit it or not, what initially gets the attention of tweens and teens are looks; the music comes later. I was eighteen the first time I heard live Blues, and I was hooked from moment one. I think kids are smarter than Madison Avenue gives them credit, and if you give them quality, they will recognize it.

Remembering that the word “fan” derives from “fanatic,” once people become fans of a band, they will read every interview and review they can find, and it is through that practice that they are directed toward the influences of their new musical heros. I speak from personal experience: Several years ago I was at the Outlook to review a band I’d not seen, Jason Ricci and New Blood. I became an instant fan, and for weeks searched the internet for all I could find. And, in light of that research, I know about all of Jason’s influences.

So, for the sake of argument, imagine this band of teenagers gets a viral hit, and then the interviews begin. Then, everyone of their fans would know the names and music of Muddy Waters, Little Walter, Howlin’ Wolf, Kim Wilson, Steady Rollin’ Bob Margolin, Pinetop Perkins, etc. What I’ve realized in all this thinking about Amy Winehouse, is that there is a HUGE audience for true genius, and we have a lot of them in the Blues world, we just need to start thinking like the kids if we want to reach them. I’m going to talk to the parents of the aforementioned geniuses, and see if we might want to put something together. Anyone reading this who also knows of young, genuinely talented Blues artists, consider You Tube. The Blues is the oldest and most deeply rooted music in the American catalog, but our approach can’t be. We need to change the way we think about promotion, and the first step is accepting the reality that the way to the masses’ hearts begins with the youth.

 ~Honey Bee Sepeda~

Young Austin

I was planning on doing an extensive interview with fifteen-year old Austin Young, but after his performance yesterday at Arvada, CO’s Blues and BBQ Festival, it can’t wait. He’s just that good.

With sixteen-year old Noah Mast on bass, and Austin’s father, Tim, on drums, Young Austin and No Difference are becoming one of the area’s more sought-after bands. And with damn good reason. Before I continue, here is a paragraph from his bio:

"...Austin Lee Young, a Colorado native, has been described by some as being a “phenom” guitar player. His youth and energy lend to his own style of music which he calls “Texandrix Blues”. At 15 years old he exudes unbelievable passion and displays electrifying musicianship in his performances. His inspirations span the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jimi Hendrix, Albert King, Eric Clapton, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Tim Young, and Ted Johnson..."

Although the guitar is his instrument of choice, Austin is able to participate in any jam on the drums, bass guitar, and keyboards. His stage presence and relationship that he builds with audiences can only be described as “crowd pleasing”.

Crowd pleasing, indeed. I’ve been watching his talent develop for about three years now, and yesterday was the most electrifying performance of his that I’ve seen to date. He dedicated Muddy’s “Honey Bee” to me, and he tore up the long solo. To shreds. Not only would Muddy have been proud, I know his mentor and recent Pinetop Perkins Foundation Masterclass Workshop teacher, Steady Rollin’ Bob Margolin, would have been as well.

Wet Carpet Blues

Last Thursday, just as I was mentally confirming my decision to move (dramatic rent increase on the horizon), the skies over Boulder opened wide for more than an hour. I stood looking out my sliding glass doors at my partially enclosed terrace, noticing quickly rising water. The deluge was too much for the drain to handle.

It only took about fifteen minutes for the edge of the carpet to feel damp. Within half an hour, about 100 square feet of my living carpet was soaked. Half my living room was primed for seeding. Management showed up with an industrial sized shop vac (a good plan since my neighbor across the hall suffered the same wet fate), and after rearranging my living room furniture, spent over an hour vacuuming rain water out of the carpet, along with my dream of an indoor vegetable garden.

The following afternoon fans arrived. Big, loud, vibrating carpet-drying fans. I was told they needed to run at least 24 hours. Fair enough. I have plenty of CDs to drown out a couple of fans. And so I passed the rest of Friday and much of Saturday rotating CDs (I’m old school; I still have a CD player), while I cleaned up and sorted for the move.

I said “much” of Saturday. Around 2:30ish, just as I was preparing to silence the fans for a few hours (the carpet was almost dry), the skies opened up again. Do I need to go on with this tale of woe, or can you figure out what happened next? I’ll give you clue: Think deja vu: Management, neighbor, rain water again sucked up with my garden dream. Just add a fan. I had three loud fans. So the remainder of Saturday, and all of Sunday and Monday were passed with the loud din of drying being covered by some loud Blues.

Deal With The Devil: A Boulder Story

A few years ago, I published a spoof on Robert Johnson’s deal-with-the-devil. Many laughed, and many emailed me to see if I was alright. I repost it here, but if you don’t know the story of the Robert Johnson myth, this won’t makes sense. Any readers falling into that category, I suggest you read this first. 

I wanted to share a recent experience with you (for those of you not familiar with Boulder, we used to have an eyesore known as the Crossroads Mall).

Ok, something happened to me on my way home on the night of October’s full moon. I couldn’t be sure if what I think happened actually happened. I needed some time to process. Well, now I think I can let you in on it, freaky and unbelievable though it is.

I’d been at the Outlook listening to some great, soulful blues and decided to walk home. I was Walking up the road with my laptop in my bag propped up on my shoulder on an October cool night, a full moon filling up the dark sky. I was thinking about the blues preaching to me, when I heard, "Put that laptop down, girl, you drivin' people nuts." It was a quiet, dark and lonesome road, with a crazed, poisoned dog howling and moaning in a ditch alongside the road sending electrified chills up and down my spine, as I was coming up on the ghost of the demolished Crossroads Mall just south of home. Then I saw a man sitting off to the side of the road on a log at the heart if the old Crossroads Mall, and he says, "You're late, Honey Sepeda." I dropped to my knees and said, "Maybe not."

The man stood up, tall, barrel-chested, and black as forever, and walked out to the middle of the old Crossroads Mall where I kneeled down. He says, "Stand up, Honey Sepeda. You want to throw that laptop over there in that ditch with that hairless dog and go on back to the Outlook and just listen, because you just another blues reviewer like all the rest, or you want to write about the blues like nobody ever wrote about it before? Turn phrases nobody ever heard before? You want to be the Queen of the Blues Writers and have all the whiskey and men you want?"