Tag Archives: National Resophonic

When a Guitar & A Piano Play The Blues

PreacherBoy_JonDryden

I have been enjoying so much having the opportunity to perform with Jon “Captain Ahab” Dryden on piano—and when I say “piano,” I mean piano with a capital P. Piano. Acoustic. Wood. Wire. Keys. Life.

Ahab’s abilities are vast, virtually limitless, and beyond classification. His ear is extraordinary, his versatility unrivaled, his grace at the keys sublime. I simply LOVE what he makes of the songs we play together.

We’ve been playing so many different things, and it’s been a total joy. Whether it’s gems from Victoria Spivey, Leroy Car, Jelly Roll Morton, or Bessie Smith with The Westside Sheiks, selections from past Preacher Boy albums like Demanding to be Next or The Devil’s Buttermilk, vintage country blues workout from the likes of Charley Patton, Mississippi John Hurt, or Tommy Johnson, or experiments with brand-new songs, it’s all just been magic.

This past Tuesday night, we pulled a couple of rather groovy rabbits out of the hat. Two debut runs at songs from Estate Bottled Blues, and a rather rollicking Piano-National take on Seven’s In The Middle, Son from The National Blues.

Here are some guerrilla-live bootlegs (mastered, but rough!) to give you an aural snapshot of what was afoot!

Pulling Black Flowers From An Hourglass – LIVE

Seven’s In The Middle, Son – LIVE

Fever Moon – LIVE

Stream ’em, download ’em, share ’em, enjoy ’em, do with them what you will. I just hope you dig!

Lyrics below, should you wish to follow along!

Pulling Black Flowers From An Hourglass

There’s nothing quite so lonesome as an empty Ferris Wheel,
rusting on its hinges in the rain,
save for that feeling when you’re driving down a lonely stretch of 5,
next to tracks that are carrying no train.

And I can see the body of a bird that met its doom,
just another case of roadkill for the highway to consume.
And you know that I’ve been feeling every life that I pass,
pulling black flowers from an hourglass.

I can see the fog come tumbling down the hillside,
like a tree whose will has been broke.
I can hear the raindrops spattering on my hood,
like a playing card pinned to a spoke.

And I can see a scarecrow with nothing to protect,
just another broken phantom in the caverns of neglect.
And you know that I’ve been feeling every life that I pass,
pulling black flowers from an hourglass.

The lake moves left to right, and the old men do the same,
when they take their favorite circuits ’round the shore.
But there’s a mighty hidden shadow looming out over the blissful,
and it’s too hard for the old men to ignore.

Saint Helens had a fire buried well within her soul,
it’s so frightening how the relapse of a saint can take its toll.
And you know that I’ve been feeling every life that I pass,
pulling black flowers from an hourglass.

Seven’s In The Middle, Son

made a deal with a strange man
he could deal his deck with either hand
winked at me and said goodbye
then switched his patch to the other eye
i did my best to play my song
but he stopped me before too long
took my guitar off my lap
tuned it up and then gave it back
rise and shine, and give god the glory, glory
rise and shine, and give god the glory
wrapped himself in an overcoat
silver necklace ’round his throat
rattlin’ keychain in his pants
sounded like bones when he danced
i faced myself in the mirror glass
swear to god i heard him laugh
felt his name rise in my gut
seven years of bad luck
rise and shine, and give god the glory, glory
rise and shine, and give god the glory
he said “seven is in the middle, son
pick a side and ride that one”
like jewels hangin’ on the vine
it’s a pendulum that’s drowning time
i lay my head down window-side
neon lights like a reaper’s bride
i tried to sleep beneath the black
of the space behind that devil’s patch
rise and shine, and give god the glory, glory
rise and shine, and give god the glory
he put a shiver in my soul
shook my hand and froze it cold
walked me ’round that endless shore
’til i knew i’d never been before
i hear him singin’ from the road
it’s a children’s song he knows i know
i lay myself down on the ground
emptied both my ears of sound
rise and shine, and give god the glory, glory
rise and shine, and give god the glory

Fever Moon

i saw grey at the temple
i saw blue in the sky
i saw white at the castle
with a black eye

night sweat, soak, broke, hallucination
not yet doc, i like this prescription
deep pill chill, refill my irrigation
back in the cups, i changed up my station
from pirate to tycoon, fever moon

i saw red at the rose
spreading green on the lawn
i saw brown at the derby
but the gold was gone

night sweat, soak, broke, hallucination
not yet doc, i like this prescription
deep pill chill, refill my irrigation
back in the cups, i changed my station
from pirate to tycoon, fever moon

i saw bronze take an age
i saw silver place
i saw rust take a belt
from an ashen face

night sweat, soak, broke, hallucination
not yet doc, i like this prescription
deep pill chill, refill my irrigation
back in the cups, i changed my station
from pirate to tycoon, fever moon


99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

 

PreacherBoy_MissionSt

The song was originally written from the back window of a 4-room railroad apartment in Bushwick, Brooklyn, just after 9.11.

It was recorded at RPM studios in Manhattan, which is no longer there.

It was released on “Demanding To Be Next” which is still here.

It was played tonight at Mission St. BBQ, which is over there. I am looking right.

Tonight it wore a harmonica rack around its neck and had a ’36 National in its lap:

Preacher Boy – 99 Bottles [LIVE]

(if you don’t see the embedded audio player above, please click here to stream)

On “Demanding to be Next” it had that same National, but no harmonica. And it went like this:

When you want to sing along, sing it all night long. And it goes like this:

ninety-nine bottles

i think i better kill time
before it kills me
put some silence on a sawed-off
see if anybody hears me
there’s ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
rain is runnin’ off the roof
tick-tockin’ on the fire escape
and i’m pitchin’ pennies at the puddles
and takin’ a drink for every one i make
there’s ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
there’s lights on ‘cross the alley
but everybody’s blinds are drawn
and there ain’t nothin’ stirrin’
and nothin’ is goin’ on
there’s ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
i like wine better, but i make do, y’all
(p) PreachSongsMusic/KobaltMusic/BMI
~

(header image by Jake J. Thomas)


Preacher Boy Trio: Now, Con Funky Adicional

 

 

 

The Preacher Boy Trio

The Preacher Boy Trio, live at Aptos St. BBQ: featuring Zack Olsen & Virgil Thrasher (photo by Ulises Gonzalez)

Tonight’s show was groovy as f&*k—The Preacher Boy Trio was Con Funky Adicional.

Cheers to Zack Olsen (drums) and Virgil Thrasher (harmonica) for blessin’ me with the music tonight. I was so honored. Thanks to Aptos St. BBQ fer havin’ us … such a good home for this music.

So, I’ll run ya the whole set list down below, and some lyrics as well, but here’s a lil’ foursome of raw live tracks straight from the stage to give ya the Con Funky flavor:

If I Had Possession Over My Judgement Day

(if you don’t see the embedded music player below, please click here to stream)

i start every show with it, and so you see it listed every time, but i never offer recordings of it, but I will do tonight, cuz this was a particularly struttin’ version of the cut …

 

New Red Cedar Blues

(if you don’t see the embedded music player below, please click here to stream)

essentially pretty much a new song—i did try and roll out an early arrangement of it a few months ago, but it weren’t happenin’ yet, so ’twas shelved and woodshedded, but the thing came back with a vengeance tonight … lyrics at the end of  post…

 

A Thief For Every Bible

(if you don’t see the embedded music player below, please click here to stream)

this is essentially a new song as well, tho it’s born of some pre-existing components—the final lyric is actually a combo of two earlier songs that never quite coalesced independently, as well as a new 1/2 chorus, and the music is a complete re-arrangement of a long-ago track that crawled back out from under a rock and said, “play me as a slide guitar rhumba in a minor key, and I’ll be yer baby tonight … and so, said yes …

 

Blister and a Bottle Cap

(if you don’t see the embedded music player below, please click here to stream)

I include this cuz it’s just f&*kin’ epic. Nearly 8 minutes of AltBlues Con SwampFunk

 

And here are lyrics for the new songs in town:

New Red Cedar Blues

off the banks where the rapids flow
learn a lil’ somethin’ ‘bout what i know
raccoon is as raccoon does
learn a lil’ somethin’ bout what i was

and the good witch of the river
from deep down in the water
asks for you to give her
your wish upon a quarter
flashin’ silver that you feed her
oh, if you get lost …
come on home to red cedar

the thunder sends the lightnin’ first
after that, the cloud bursts
its buckshot through the shadows
to the water’s black staccato

and the good witch of the river…

oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’
oh my darlin’, look behind you
in a cavern, in a canyon
if you get lost, i’m gon’ find you
oh, if you get lost …

we left the lake to greet the sun
and got some walkin’ done
back to red cedar
follow the leader

and the good witch of the river…

oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’…

 

A Thief For Every Bible

rats thin and dried, and the noose you tied
and it’s a bad day comin’
it’s a whistle and a pig
and i can hear the drummin’

sweet bitter tea, and the howlin’ three
got an itch for hemlock
they sold the black mariah
and bought an auction block

hey hey, it’s something to wrap your head around
somethin’ good ‘bout to rise up, somethin’ bad ‘bout to go down
hey hey, somethin’ even you have never seen
gon’ be a thief for every bible, and a drunk for every dream

soot sweet and thick, and the broken brick
i hear the claws a-climbin’
a crow inside an overcoat
said somethin’ ’bout simon

and so simon said, god bless the dead
and the rest can go to hell
tell the pig to get his whistle
and tell the rat to ring the bell

hey hey, it’s something to wrap your head around…

hey there gun, tell the seventh son
we ’bout to build a railroad
i know you like the water clear
as dew upon a cane toad

i’m drinkin’ buttermilk , all by myself
been in the cups on rye
i make the fine look ugly
i make the ugly look fine

hey hey, it’s something to wrap your head around…

 

and here’s the full set list from the evening’s entertainment:

The Preacher Boy Trio: featuring Zack Olsen & Virgil Thrasher

Live at Aptos St. BBQ, 7.16.2016

  1. if i had possession over my judgement day (robert johnson, arr. pb)
  2. i just hang down my head and i cry (mance lipscomb, arr. pb)
  3. down the drain (pb)
  4. cornbread (pb)
  5. the cross must move (pb)
  6. catfish (willie doss, arr. ob)
  7. setting sun (pb)
  8. casey bill weldon (pb)
  9. comin’ up aces (pb)
  10. down and out in this town (pb)
  11. a person’s mind (pb)
  12. my car walks on water (pb)
  13. new red cedar blues (pb)
  14. a little more evil (pb)
  15. revenue man blues (charley patton, arr. pb)
  16. dead, boy (pb)
  17. motherless children (blind lemon jefferson/mance lipscomb/dave van ronk, arr. pb)
  18. a thief for every bible (pb)
  19. down south blues (sleepy john estes, arr. pb)
  20. blister and a bottle cap (pb)
  21. baby, please don’t go (bukka white, arr. pb)

 

I hope you dig!


The Dogs: An Irish Ghost Story Set To Minor-Key Slide Guitar

The Dogs [LIVE]

It was written while the missus and I were living in Ireland. In the wild barren west of County Clare. In The Burren. In a 200-year-old stone house that was once the parochial house for the small village down the coast road. Under Jameson’s. Under a peet fire. It was written in Ireland.

It was recorded for “The Devil’s Buttermilk.”

It has never been performed live. Until last week.

Raw, guerrilla-audio. Live. The almighty Virgil Thrasher on harmonica. Meself on 1936 National Resophonic, in Open Dm. Stomps via boots.

The Dogs [LIVE] (click to listen)

the dogs
the trees, come the nightfall
turn a deeper shade of purple
and their gnarled limbs tighten into fists

the webbing of the spiders
gets sewn ever tighter
a latticework of silver in the mist

the trails, clearly marked
dissolve in the dark
and the bog creeps in upon the ankles

the wind blows a foul breath
the last glow is extinguished
and the stars are cut down from where they dangle

it’s said that in the bogs
lay the skeletons of dogs
never buried, only thrown to the ground

into the bog, they were delivered
with no pity or grave-digger
and with time their lonely bodies sank down

in the midnight’s darkest center
when even summer nights are winter
and silence presses into the dark like a fossil

comes the lonely anguished howling
the barking and the growling
and the hot breath of a thousand nostrils

oh, the sad, hopeless panting
from the ghosts of the abandoned
searching restlessly for the masters that left them

but the masters, long deceased
have left the ghosts eternally
on a cursed hunt that’s doomed to not end

so, of this place, you must beware
let not the nightfall catch you there
and if you doubt it, remember what happened to patrick jones

who swore he’d prove our fears unfounded
and in the morning, when we found him
there was nothing but tooth-marks on his bones


9 Reasons To Attend The Golden Gate Blues Society’s International Blues Competition Solo/Duo Round

preacherboy_gitcase_traintracks

Oakland. My former home. The Oakland of a long-gone Navy. The Oakland of Ken Stabler. The Oakland of Eli’s.

To misquote that English bluesman (for that is, in so many ways, what I think he really is) Billy Bragg, “I don’t want to change the world, I’m just looking for a new Oakland…”

I and you and we will find a new Oakland Thursday night. A blues Oakland. A solo Oakland. A duo Oakland.

(To find out more details about this event, please click here. You’ll be taken to a Facebook Events Page)

We will be the Oakland of Your Place Too and Flint’s. And we will be the Oakland of The Terrace Room.

What follows are 9 Reasons you should be in this Oakland/that Oakland Thursday night. These 9 reasons are an aggregation of what was once 7 reasons, then appended with an 8th, and now modified to include a 9th.

*Historical Note: The James Brown chord is a 9th.

Read on, and dig.

(and if you’re already familiar with reasons 1-8, then get on to the end of this post and dig Number 9. Number 9. Number 9. Number 9…)

REASON ONE:
Because, what is blues? Blues is not some chump in a designer suit in front of a wall of amps playing “tributes” to a huge crowd of $100 ticket holders in a theater. Blues is a person, and people. Blues is raw. Blues is an instrument with a sound, in hands with a feel, below a voice with a power. It is not whispered. It is music for all generations, played where there is food and drink and diapers and bottles and laughing and talking and dancing and silence and nothingness and just being present. It is not the cry of an oppressed people any more than it is formulaic entertainment. It is American Haiku with a thumb pick. It is slightly dangerous and very funny and a bit about fucking but also the strange intelligence of old people and the smell of swamps and the in-the-momentness of monks. This is REASON ONE to attend this event. Because you will hear boots stomp to the raw sound of American Mojo Haiku Swamp Songs.

REASON TWO:
Coyote Slim. Because of all the above. Because he’s the real deal. Because he plays farmers’ markets, and is grateful about it. Because he cares about his clothes because he respects his opportunities. Because his bio says he’s an arborist. Because he understands how to sing, and why it’s important. Because you should listen to Coyote Slim. Because he has R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Because when he plays and sings, the sound is alive. This is REASON TWO why you should attend this event.

REASON THREE:
John Maxwell. Because his latest album has him playing “Let The Mermaids Flirt With Me.” Which is one of the greatest not-as-well-known performances Mississippi John Hurt ever recorded. Because he plays a slide guitar version of “St. James Infirmary.” Because CD Baby says he’s recommended if you like Leon Redbone. This is REASON THREE why you should attend this event.

John Maxwell | Blues for Evangeline

REASON FOUR:
Chicken & Dumpling. Because they’re called Chicken & Dumpling. This is REASON FOUR why you should attend this event.

REASON FIVE:
Country Pete McGill. Because Holy Crap, check him out:

And THAT … is REASON FIVE to attend this event.

REASON SIX:
Preacher Boy. Yours truly. I’m writing this, so I can’t say anything about myself, but I’m a reason to come all the same. So I am REASON SIX to attend this event.

PB_ASBBQ

REASON SEVEN:
A reviewer once wrote of one of my albums that I sung every word as if I were about to expire. I was very proud of that review. I still try to sing that way, and some day, I’ll be right. Your life is a choice, too. Every moment of it. Is your past impacting your present right now? It is. So the past is here right now. And of course the present is here right now. And is what you’re doing right now going to impact the future? Of course it is. So the future is here too. Which means now really is the only moment. So I sing that way. And on the evening of September 10th, it will be your only moment, and you can do with that what you will, but I hope you choose to attend this event, because that will illustrate and exemplify what you care about. That you care about realness. That you care about hearing skin on brass. Boot on floor. That you care about the actual sound of a throat framing the word “down.” That you know all soulful people wear groovy shoes. It will show that you’re a Blues Monk Haiku Zen Blues Master with big mojo. And you want to be that don’t you? Because you want to be close enough to reach out and touch the musician, but you won’t, because you won’t need to.

THAT … is REASON SEVEN to attend this event.

REASON EIGHT: Big Bones

BigBones

Due largely to when and where I was born, I haven’t had too many flesh-and-blood musical teachers. My Grandpa certainly, from whom I received my Nationals. But that’s very nearly it. Certainly I’ve had friends, peers, fellow musicians that I’ve learned uncountable amounts from, but I like to think/hope those are give-and-take relationships.

By and large, my teachers have been recordings and books. Vinyl releases from Vanguard, Takoma, Arhoolie. Books by Samuel Charters, David Evans, Stefan Grossman. And of course, the music. This has been my true teacher. The music of Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes, Charley Patton, Son House, Blind Willie Johnson, Robert Pete Williams, and so, so, so many more.

There is one exception to the above, however. There is one teacher, one flesh-and-blood teacher, at whose knee I have genuinely studied. His name is Big Bones.

I’ve told the tale too many times to merit repeating here, but suffice it to say Big Bones looms large in my life. I played with him for the first time on a street corner in Berkeley, some 25 years ago. We’ve gone years in silence since, intermingled with long, strange, beautiful and hard hours, days, weeks, months on the road together. We’ve driven to Arkansas, flown to Amsterdam, sailed to Ireland.

Here is he and I together, from The Kitchen Set:

 

What I have learned from Big Bones is immeasurable. What you will experience in the presence of he and his music is inexpressible. Big Bones. He is REASON EIGHT to attend  The Golden Gate Blues Society’s International Blues Competition Solo/Duo Round.

Through the strange machinations of fate, I am not scheduled to play WITH Big Bones that night. Rather, I am scheduled to compete AGAINST him. This is of course ridiculous. I could sooner eat dinosaur marrow w/ mole sauce than compete with Bones.

The event is of course not a competition of any kind, really. It is a celebration of a raw, urgent, vital music. A music that lives fully within the boundaries of Big Bones.

Please CLICK HERE to attend this event.

IBC

Finally, REASON NINE: You.

You are the reason to attend this event. Because you DO want to change the world, and you ARE looking for a new Oakland.


You Gonna Need Me Some Ol’ Cold Winter Day

ASBBQ

Boots to the floor, national in my hands, and my good friend Dr. Virgil Thrasher on my right side. That’s how the night began, and that’s how the evenin’ ended…

And I put the slide to brass, I said I put the slide to brass, and Virgil put them reeds to lips, and Virgil put them reeds to lips and that’s how the night began, and that’s how the evenin’ ended…

Some nights you work your favorites, try and turn ’em inside out, upside down, shake ’em out, to see what secrets they might hold for you that evenin…

Other nights you pull deep into the fedora, see what’s down there in that cavern, see what songs are rattlin’ roundin your sonic sound spelunk for that evenin’

This night was one of the latter sort of evenin’… lots a songs was rattlin’ round the caverns…

So here’s some fresh, raw recordin’ of some live tracks from the evenin… this was Thursday, three September, at the ‘Q…  Aptos St BBQ, that is…

First up, a lil’ somethin’ called:

Cornbread (never yet been released: lyrics at the conclusion of this post)

Then, quite the lil’ rarity for a Preacher Boy set, an arrangement of:

Cold Winter Day (learned from a recording by Blind Willie McTell)

followed by a fine performance from Virgil on a poppin lil’ rendo of There Go John

And finally, a new live performance of a never been released PB song that actually was debuted at ASBBQ back in September of 2014, a lil’ thing called:

Blister & A Bottle Cap (never yet been released)

~

Here’s them lyrics I promised ya:

CORNBREAD

peggie sat cross-legged in her tri-cornered hat
with a barbie and a gi joe, playin ball and jacks
and the sun went from touchin’ ground to straddlin’ north and south
to settlin’ on the roof of mr. beckman’s house

and when the sun went down, janie’s mother put her hands
in the shape of a megaphone and she yelled hard as she can

she yelled “come on honey, come home now, i got a big surprise
there’s fresh butter from the dairy, and the cornbread’s on the rise

now, maxwell ran lap after lap around the ol back-stop
with a baseball glove in one hand, in the other soda pop
autumn sunshine and moonlight shared a dusky place
and there were shadows and a tan competin over maxwell’s face

and when the clock hit seven maxwells papa pulled his pipe
from tween his yella teeth so he could holler into the night

he hollered “come on sonny, come home now, i got a big surprise
there’s fresh butter from the dairy, and the cornbread’s on the rise

i like a little bit of butter, on my cornbread…

jake drew orphan jenny motorcycle pictures everyday
and he passed em to her during class when the teacher turned away
at recess and after school and all the week-end long
they’d sit up together on the beckman’s fence and pretend they was ridin on

and jake’s ma would come around to fetch her son for supper
and she’d tell that orphan jenny she was welcome to come over

she’d say “come on honey, come home now, i got a big surprise
there’s fresh butter from the dairy, and the cornbread’s on the rise

I like a lil’ bit of butter, on my cornbread…


The 8th Reason To Attend The Golden Gate Blues Society’s International Blues Competition Solo/Duo Round

REASON EIGHT:

Big Bones

BigBones

Due largely to when and where I was born, I haven’t had too many flesh-and-blood musical teachers. My Grandpa certainly, from whom I received my Nationals. But that’s very nearly it. Certainly I’ve had friends, peers, fellow musicians that I’ve learned uncountable amounts from, but I like to think/hope those are give-and-take relationships.

By and large, my teachers have been recordings and books. Vinyl releases from Vanguard, Takoma, Arhoolie. Books by Samuel Charters, David Evans, Stefan Grossman. And of course, the music. This has been my true teacher. The music of Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes, Charley Patton, Son House, Blind Willie Johnson, Robert Pete Williams, and so, so, so many more.

There is one exception to the above, however. There is one teacher, one flesh-and-blood teacher, at whose knee I have genuinely studied. His name is Big Bones.

I’ve told the tale too many times to merit repeating here, but suffice it to say Big Bones looms large in my life. I played with him for the first time on a street corner in Berkeley, some 25 years ago. We’ve gone years in silence since, intermingled with long, strange, beautiful and hard hours, days, weeks, months on the road together. We’ve driven to Arkansas, flown to Amsterdam, sailed to Ireland.

Here is he and I together, from The Kitchen Set:

 

What I have learned from Big Bones is immeasurable. What you will experience in the presence of he and his music is inexpressible. Big Bones. He is REASON EIGHT to attend  The Golden Gate Blues Society’s International Blues Competition Solo/Duo Round.

Through the strange machinations of fate, I am not scheduled to play WITH Big Bones that night. Rather, I am scheduled to compete AGAINST him. This is of course ridiculous. I could sooner eat dinosaur marrow w/ mole sauce than compete with Bones.

The event is of course not a competition of any kind, really. It is a celebration of a raw, urgent, vital music. A music that lives fully within the boundaries of Big Bones.

I invite you to join me for this extraordinary event. It will be memorable.

Please CLICK HERE to attend.

SoloDuo_New

 


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