Tag Archives: San Francisco

San Francisco Nights, San Francisco Days

Preacher Boy - 1

Image from the very first Preacher Boy photo shoot, for the very first Preacher Boy album. Photo by Pat Johnson.

Sad Bastard Club, Monday, April 15, 2019, feat. Tom Heyman, Matthew Edwards, Ted Savarese, and Preacher Boy.  Make Out Room. 3225 22nd St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

San Francisco was my home town for many, many years. It’s where I came of age musically; and in fact, literally. I was on stage at the Full Moon Saloon when I turned 21. The audience sang me a hearty Happy Birthday, while the bartender looked on a bit perplexed, given that I’d already been playing (and drinking) there for at least a year.

Of course, the Full Moon Saloon is now gone, as are so many of the great venues from those days. The Blue Lamp (name-checked in the Preacher Boy song “At The Corner of the Top and the Botton), Boomerang, the I-Beam, the Kennel Club, the Last Day Saloon, Nightbreak, Paradise Lounge (one of my personal all-time favorite venues), and far too many more.

Mercifully, some are still going strong. Bottom of the Hill (I was fortunate to play there the first week it opened), Hotel Utah, Biscuits and Blues (played more shows there than I can count), and of course the Great American Music Hall, possibly my choice for “final gig” venue. And of course, there is Slim’s, where, thanks to the benevolence of Harry Duncan and Dawn Holliday, I played some of the most important shows in my career. Dawn was especially important for me, and she invited me to open for so many incredible artists I can still hardly believe it. From The Texas Tornadoes, Uncle Tupelo, and Peter Wolf, to Jimmy Vaughan, Diamanda Galas, and Ratdog, I was fortunate to be part of a musical era I will always recall with awe, fondness, and gratitude.

I signed my first record deal in San Francisco. Blind Pig Records. I signed the contract—literally, physically signed the contract—on a table at a bar in North Beach.

There were so many memorable musical things happening then. So many memorable bands. Sister Double Happiness. Red House Painters. American Music Club. Richard Buckner. Chuck Prophet. The list went on and on and on.

On Monday, April 15th, I return to San Francisco, for precisely the kind of show that made San Francisco such a remarkable musical city in those days. A show with imaginative, unique, diverse musicians, performers, and songwriters, who come together in the spirit of rock n’ roll craftspersonship to deliver serious—and seriously fun, music—The show will be at the Make Out Room. I join a bill comprised of Tom Heyman, Matthew Edwards, and Ted Savarese.  The show is one of a series called the “Sad Bastard Club.”

If you’re anywhere in Northern California at that time, I hope you can come. It will be a night to celebrate the city, its music, and its musicians.


Celebrating David Bowie

#CelebratingDavidBowie

-or- Dining on Blues with The Thin White Duke

-or- What the Texas Flood had to do with the Serious Moonlight

It might be said that David Bowie was an omnivore who subsisted on a variegated diet of genius. His was an elevated mammalian instinct—a refined sensorial ability to identify, internalize, and reproduce the gorgeous bleeding edge of his world like some dangerous polyphagist blazing with a courtesan’s practiced grace through fields of sounds and visions.

Was David Bowie a bluesman? Certainly not. But could he sniff out in its bestial flanks the raw funk of pagan genius? Most certainly he could.

I’m not talking about Stevie Ray Vaughan, by the way. At least not yet.

Nor, however, am I talking about “Running Gun Blues” from The Man Who Sold The World. Sure, there is a rawness to the lyric:

I slash them cold, I kill them dead

I broke the gooks, I cracked their heads

I’ll bomb them out from under the beds

But now I’ve got the running gun blues

But musically, it’s a different animal. Blues it ain’t.

I could though, potentially be talking about just about all of Hunky Dory, though with some explanation and contextualization required. If the folk-blues of Dylan’s early records, for example, presented a young, blues-struck songster-artist wrestling with which side of the musical soul tracks to fall on—and whether to love or mock his gods and demons— Hunky Dory could be Bowie wrestling with Dylan’s blues-struck songster-artist. Hunky Dory of course contains those Romulan and Remun songs of fidelity and scandal: one song which arguably mocks Dylan (Song for Bob Dylan), and one that arguably imitates him (Changes). Such wrestlings (Church and Jukejoint) have always been the proper moral stuff of proper blues.

Bowie was also a good rock n’ roller. And you can’t be a good rock n’ roller without having spit a bit into the handkerchief of the blues. Whether it’s theatre or not, ironic or not, Suffragette City is good rock n’ roll, and that whole wham bam, thank you m’aam bit is straight up old school sex hokum.

Which brings me to The Jean Genie.

I’m going to be singing this song on Tuesday, March 22, at The Regency Ballroom in San Francisco, in the company of so much talent I can hardly believe I have a thing to do with it. But it’s happening. It’s called Celebrating David Bowie. It started at the Roxy in LA, shortly after Bowie passed. It was led by a very old musical friend of mine named Scrote (who I know from my earliest musical days in San Francisco, and who is today one of the most innovative, creative, and thoughtful guitar players and composers around) and Gary Oldman, the very, very fine actor, musician, and filmmaker. Celebrating David Bowie literally took on a life of its own, and the concert turned into a truly remarkable happening, featuring a stunning array of musicians who had collectively and in myriad ways orbited through Bowie’s orbit. This powerful experience is now coming to San Francisco for an encore appearance. Gary and Scrote are at the helm again. Jerry Harrison has signed on to perform (cue fanboy spazz out from yours truly … The Modern Lovers!!!). The musical cast is incredible. Here they are in toto, as listed on the event site:

Jerry Harrison, Holly Palmer, Mark Plati, Gaby Moreno, Angelo Moore, Joe Sumner, Dorian Holley, Lyle Workman, Mirv, Patrick Warren, Brain, Eric Gorfain, Magik*Magik Orchestra, Blair Sinta, Mark Degli Antoni, Paul Bushnell, Jebin Bruni, Ron Dziubla, House, Princess Frank, Rob Reich, Wil Blades, Celia Chavez, Simon Petty, Alex Painter, Jordan Katz, Michael Urbano, Preacher Boy, Josh Lopez, Jeremy Little, Jamison Smeltz, Brett Hool, Marcus Blake, Jim Greer, Shawn Davis, Libby Lavella, Adam Theis, Rich Armstrong, Karina Denike, Jim Bogios, Mark Growden, Craig McFarland, Meryl Theo Press, Mike Klooster, Brad Brooks, Carletta Sue Kay, and the Oakland Interfaith Gospel Choir Ensemble.

And as noted on said site:

Musicians on this show play with or have played with David Bowie, Tom Waits, Sting, Seal, Herbie Hancock, Daniel Johnston, De La Soul, Brian Eno, Bruce Springsteen, Jellyfish, Meshell Ndegeocello, Jackson Browne, Danny Elfman, Bob Dylan, Soul Coughing, Stevie Wonder, John Scofield, Guns N’ Roses, Lana Del Rey, Dr. Dre, Burt Bacharach, David Byrne, Todd Rundgren, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dwight Yoakam, Cassandra Wilson, Eric Clapton, Raphael Saadiq, Frank Black, Melody Gardot, Lenny Kravitz, etc etc etc…

In short, this is once-in-a-lifetime. I still can’t believe I’m going to be there. But I am. And I’m going to sing The Jean Genie.

Crazy.

I’m a little bit terrified. But by god, I’ll make it!

After all, musically, Jean Genie is just Bowie doing I’m A Man by way of The Yardbirds, right??? And lyrically, it’s just a hipped-up, druggy, urban-nocturnal kind of Wang Dang Doodle, ain’t it?

Tell automatic slim

Tell razor totin’ jim

Tell butcher knife totin’ annie

Tell fast talkin’ fanny

Tonite we’re gonna pitch a ball

Down to that union hall

Gonna romp and tromp ’till midnite

We’re gonna fuss and fight ’till daylight

We’re gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long

~

A small Jean Genie snuck off to the city

Strung out on lasers and slash back blazers

Ate all your razors while pulling the waiters

Talking bout Monroe and walking on Snow White

New York’s a go-go and everything tastes right

Poor little Greenie

The Jean Genie lives on his back

The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks

He’s outrageous, he screams and he bawls

Jean Genie let yourself go!

It’s a legendary song, is what it is. How legendary? A handwritten copy of the original lyrics is—in a strange bit of timing—currently being auctioned as I write this. Opening bid? $43,000. Wow.

And ok yes, there’s the David Bowie and Stevie Ray Vaughan thing. Did he “discover” Stevie Ray Vaughan? Of course not. Did their somewhat surprising musical dance together dramatically impact each other’s careers? Absolutely. Are “China Girl” or “Let’s Dance” blues songs? Of course not. Did David Bowie sense something that no one else could really sense—did he see something we couldn’t see, hear something we couldn’t hear, did he walk on a plane where, if you were there too, you too would know what the Texas Flood had to do with the Serious Moonlight?

Absolutely.

 


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