Monday, February 25, 2008

Back to the beginning

My latest Bruce Robison purchase is the oldest I could find. It's his first CD, a now somewhat rare independently produced album that was Bruce's first commercial album.

On Amazon.com, there are a couple places selling this disc for about $75. I got this one for about $11 on eBay with shipping. Deal!

The CD contains several songs that appeared on his later work: "Travelling Soldier," "Red Letter Day," a song his wife Kelly put on an album "Not Forgotten You" and the life-changing "Angry All the Time." Each of these are less produced than the later versions, but add a whole new dimension to how I listen to the songs. On "Red Letter Day," for example, there's a sax where I've never heard a sax. "Angry All the Time" has some different guitar work (bridge, maybe? I don't know nothing 'bout makin no music..)

But even better are the songs I hadn't previously heard.

Some gems. "Torn and Tangled" is probably my favorite, the title's slick and the slow, bluesy tempo is groovy. "Take It All Out on You" is another faster tempo ditty that has nice hooks and, oddly, was co-written with his wife's ex-husband. Kelly recorded it when she was working for MCA, and in a concert, she joked that it makes her a legitimate country singer to be performing a song written by her husband and ex. "House of Man" has a traditional feel and features some great guitar, maybe dobro work. For a song about the real meaning of life, it's simple but rich.


If you come across this one, snatch it up.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Bruce Robison delivers Valentine

For at least a couple years, I've been haranguing musician Bruce Robison to play the song "Valentine" from his Country Sunshine album. It's a personal favorite that is one of the few of his songs I have not heard him play.

In December, my wife and I traveled to Waxahachie, Texas for a Holiday Show that Bruce and wife, Kelly Willis, did as part of a mini-tour centered around their Christmas album, "Happy Holidays." That whole experience deserves its own entry, but in absence of such, let's just say it was a fantastic experience in that it was a very small, old theater and that we went home with some unique Bruce, Kelly, and even Lunchmeat stories. Having now seen Bruce probably at least a dozen times, it had been our favorite show ever -- until Saturday night.

We decided to travel to the Central Texas getaway town of Wimberley for a short Valentine's trip because we learned he'd be playing a small place called the Cypress Creek Cafe. After buying tickets in advance, we learned it was billed as a small "intimate" show, guaranteed to sell out and a rare solo acoustic performance by Bruce. Well, alright, we thought because that's how we'd been hooked by the star, seeing him perform at the inaugural Kenneth Threadgill Concert Series performance in Greenville, Texas. Bruce opened for Guy Clark and performed on the large auditorium stage with himself, his guitar and a spotlight. Gotta say we were more impressed with Bruce than we were Guy.

So when special occasions come around, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, we look for excuses to see Bruce. If Kelly's with him, that's a bonus. She's a star in her own right -- some would say maybe more recognizable -- but he's probably had more measurable success in writing at least four number one country songs performed by other people. The secret is that every one of them he recorded first, and, are better than the Nashvillians.

So as we made it to Wimberley and prepared for the evening, I even discussed with my bride the distinctions of being a groupie and a stalker. A groupie, I noted, doesn't show up at your house. The fact that I know the neighborhood where Bruce and Kelly live, she said, makes me borderline stalker and suggested the Robisons may elect to get a restraining order. At least I'm not cruising by their house, hoping to see them. I go to the shows, I told her. Just because news stories about them mention where they live, that's not my fault. I just find it interesting.

So not less than an hour after this conversation, we're sitting in a booth at the Cypress Creek Cafe finishing our dinner and this trio of guys sits down at a table right next to us. There, almost within arm's reach, is Bruce and two other guys.

Despite the accusation of being a stalker, I left him alone. I didn't shriek, "Bruce! How ya doing?" and I didn't even stare at him. I let him order his dinner and have his conversation, figuring I'd have a chance to see him after his show anyway.

Now when we saw him in Waxahachie, I'd joked with him at a meet-and-greet after the show that one of these days he was going to start recognizing me. He asked me my name and said, "Next time I see you, I'll remember." I told him, but didn't count on it.

So perhaps my giving him his privacy at dinner was also my way of avoiding what I figured would happen. I'd say hi; he'd give me a warm "Hi, how ya doing?" and resume his conversation, not remembering this fat, graying male fan was somehow one of his infrequent groupies. I must state that while I use the term groupie here, I in no way imaginable intend that to be sexually related. I'm just talking about the level of fanaticism.

So we wandered our way into the back of the place where the concert would occur. It was basically a small bar, not unlike that found in a small hotel, but with a small stage and dance floor as large as some medium-sized kitchen in a modest house. The dance floor had about six tables with chairs around them. Our seats were literally at the bar. We had two stools reserved for us, described by the guy who showed everyone to their seats as, the best in the house. Well, almost.

They were up higher than the others because the bar area was elevated about six inches. The better part was that we didn't have to depend on the one or two barmaids to bring us beer when they made it around to us...we could reorder as soon as we finished our drinks. That in itself trumped sitting at the edge of the stage looking up at Bruce as he played. The difference was no more than probably 25 feet.

He didn't play solo. He brought the two guys he dined with: a bass player (the accomplished George Reiff) and drummer (whose name I can't remember) with a snare and cymbal. Minimalist, I suppose. His acoustic guitar plugged right into the sound system, so everyone could hear well. A drummer whom Bruce said had been the session guy on many of his songs did sit in for a couple songs at the end of the evening.

The first set was great. Then came a break. I used that as an opportunity to hit the restroom. On my way back, I saw Bruce near the bar. I decided it seemed kosher enough to give him the name test. "Hey Bruce...." I said and asked if he remembered my name. He said he did and, in that awkward way that indicated he probably didn't, I let him off the hook, telling him my name and reminding him of our conversation in Waxahachie. I then quickly asked, "Any chance of hearing 'Valentine' tonight seeing as how it was just a few days past Valentine's Day. He immediately responded "Yeah, I just practiced that this week" and said he didn't know how good it would be but he'd definitely try to play it. I'd gotten a vague answer in the past that he'd try, or see, when I'd asked at other shows. I even tried getting the request in through intermediaries like his sound man, publicist, etc., but never heard the song played live. But this time, there was something different. He didn't hedge.

So only a few songs into the next set, he introduces a song that he hasn't played in a long time, but that a guy named Lance has requested at show after show, and he's going to give it a try. He then played an incredible acoustic version of the song, which has some difficult transitions, and while even I with no musical training know that it wasn't without some minor lumps, it was everything I could have hoped for. It's a powerful song, with some lyrical devices I really dig, that hammer home the difficulty of parenting and living in an ever-challenging world.

While many in the crowd obviously weren't familiar with the song, I sensed as it went on that they really could appreciate its touching lyrics and even humor at times. He followed quickly with another personal song "My Brother and Me" which is much more widely known and which because of some similarities in our heritage ("you know how them Germans can be") was a perfect way to follow Valentine.

For the rest of the crowd, what made the night special was the guest appearance of Texas legend Ray Wylie Hubbard, who lives in Wimberley and spelled Bruce by performing a couple songs ("Snake Farm" and "Mississippi Flush") for an enthralled audience. That was like a cherry on top of an already made-just-for-me Valentine's treat.

Needless to say, we went home agreeing this was our new favorite Bruce show. They just get better and better every time.