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My Wild Austin Weekend
by Bonny Holder
 Dear
Rockzilla & Gunner,
I know I promised you reviews of everything I saw in Austin
on the weekend of June 21, 2003 at the Serrano's American Music
Festival. The good folks at Serrano's gave me passes to both
their shows (thank you Mz. Vickie Lucero).
The thing is, with the particular music I went to see, it's
hard to "review" in terms of the actual performance.
Everyone I saw and heard was completely professional, and completely
entertaining, and I was already familiar with all their work.
I'm not going to drive 1500 miles round trip to take a chance
on performers I don't already love, at the cost of missing seeing
someone that I already do love. You can see my dilemma.
I'd like to say, "I've never heard Jimmy LaFave sing
'Oklahoma Hills' with more soul," or "never has Ray
Wylie Hubbard dropped names more passionately," (get it?,
that song from his new CD, Growl?)
But in fact, Jimmy always sings soulfully, from his heart,
and he has for many a year. Ray Wylie is a road warrior who's
done a bazillion gigs. Who am I to say how this performance stacked
up in a list of twenty, thirty years' worth? Kevin Welch. I've
seen Kevin a handful of times, and he's always charismatic and
always in good voice, this time also. He's a babe, too. Could
I say that in a review?
Austin is full of top-notch musicians. Seeing them play at
home is sobering. They do this every weekend. They play,
and they sing, and they sing, and they sing, and weeks turn into
years, and years into decades, and the decades -- excuse me.
Just a little middle-age sighing here.
 Have you ever been to Austin's
Symphony Square? It's at the corner of 11th & Red River,
right downtown. I've never been anywhere like it. It belongs
to the Symphony (hence the name.) On a rather small section of
a city block, they have constructed sort of a castle-like thing.
It even has a moat. Folks bring chairs or pillows, and sit on
the limestone terraced steps, facing the side facade of the Symphony
office building, which is also limestone-looking. Picturesque
ivy climbs up the side of the wall, and there is a Romeo-where-for-art-thou
balcony overlooking the, uh, moat. (photo right Kevin Welch)
At the Serrano's shows, performers were placed on the little
island across the moat from the audience. To get there, they
walk across this picturesque arched bridge. Very cool. And the
sound was perfectuoso. The only criticism I had of the venue
was that, on the first nights of summer in Austin (read = 96
degrees at sundown), it was a tad stuffy inside the perimeters
of the seating area. The promoters thoughtfully provided hand
fans to anyone who wanted one, and one did not have to sit on
the terrace if one wished to sacrifice being close to the performer
for fresh air.
 On Friday night,
the lineup ran as follows: Kevin Welch, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Billy
Joe Shaver & the Derailers. As I said before, nobody phoned
it in. The highlight of the evening for me was Nashville's Kevin
Welch, did I mention how cute he is? One of his beautiful daughters
snapped this picture of me & him. You'll notice that he has
lobsters on his shirt, or some kind of pinchy things. I can tell
from the look on his face that I frighten him. He's not the first!
These guys don't know what to think about their female fans of
a certain age. "What does she WANT??" Musicians are
so sensitive. (Left Bonny and Kevin Welch)
Bonny: Kevin, can I get a picture of me with you?
Kevin: Did you bring a camera?
Bonny: (Slapping forehead). No, I thought you were bringing it!
On Saturday night, the show was a variation on the "Woody
Guthrie: Ribbon of Highway" tour that has been going around
the country since the first of the year. The personnel change
with availability, but the basic premise is this:
Oklahoma's Bob Childers (who wrote one of my very favorite
songs in the world, "Restless Spirits"), narrates from
Woody Guthrie's writing, and then a performer, or several, do
a Woody song, then more narration, then more Woody. That's the
first half. In the second half, the performers do songs of their
own that they feel is in the Woody tradition.
 The lineup at the Serrano's show
included ringmaster Jimmy LaFave, Kevin Welch, Eliza Gilkyson,
cutie-pie Slaid Cleaves, and Michael Fracasso. And as I said,
they all did a masterful job. I really like the Woody lyrics
that Jimmy put to music, "Land of the Seven Civilized Tribes."
(left Slaid Cleaves, Jimmy LaFave, kevin Welch and Michael
Fracasso)
I was sitting there, well into Shiner Bocks, thinking: is Woody
Guthrie really relevant today? I hear Bob Childers reading about
Woody's views on the dignity of the poor, the hypocracy of the
government, the basic rights of personkind. The musicians sing
of deportees, Union struggles, outlaws, how hard it is just to
get along in this world.
And the audience is clapping!, and swaying to-and-fro, but
the audience is not cheering. Why are they not cheering?? Why
are they not up on their feet? Why isn't Woody's vision affecting
them more?
It is something I'll continue to ponder over the summer.
The highlight of the evening was catching a few glimpses of
Jimmy LaFave, with his baby on his shoulder. Didn't see the tyke's
face, but he's got his old man's long brown hair. I didn't take
a picture, because I didn't want to disturb the moment. Well,
and I couldn't get close enough.
 My roadie Hoolya and I sped into
the night, not too far, to catch Toni Price at the Waterloo Icehouse.
I love that, "icehouse" instead of "bar".
Now guys, I have to say, that for a confirmed and life-long heterosexual,
I have a major crush on Toni Price. Get your minds out of the
gutter! It's all about the music!
I'm relatively new to Toni. Her last CD, Midnight Pumpkin,
won the 2001-02 "Best Album" award in the Austin Chronicle,
and I was searching for meaningful music at the time, so I ordered
it. From the very first notes, I melted into a puddle of luv.
Call me overemotional (and many do), it was as if I had found
my heart's song. And I am not the only person who has reacted
this way!, Toni has a coterie of devoted fans who show up to
every single gig, sit in the front, and sing along with her.
That would drive me crazy, but Toni seems to dig it. Aliya is
her major fan-atic, though she may be moving to London soon,
I hear. (right, Toni Price)
I wouldn't even bother going to Austin if I couldn't see Toni
somewhere while I'm there.
Toni Price is a combination of tough and tender. You can tell
she's scrappy as all get-out single Mom of Della (who once
wrote, "Love is a greater level of caring"), worked
her way up in Austin from waitressing, tatoos on her arms, sings
every single Tuesday night at the Continental for the tip jar.
She has not made it to 42 being chauffered around.
In the past two years, she's lost her soul fiddler, Champ
Hood, and her rub board player, Mambo John Treanor, both to cancer.
If you Google them, you will be able to read tributes to them
that will make you weep. That's a big deal, losing half the band.
It's a wonder that the show goes on.
She is playing now with Casper Rawls (sort of a Texan James-Taylor
lookin' type) and handsome Matt Giles. Mz. Price is nothing if
not a trouper, and the show must go on. Grieving has given her
more of a vulnerable presence. She's a tiny little thing, when
I hug her, I can enfold her whole body in my arms and NO, my
arms are not particularly long.
When I hear Toni, I hear music across the ages. From one of
the songs that she sings, "it reminds me of a barn dance
on a Saturday night." Since she doesn't write her own material,
she has the musical space to choose the best of others'. All
five of her CDs (and the new one, Born To Be Blue, coming
out any day now) feature songs that combine lyrics and melodies
that stay in the listeners' mind long after the record is over.
Toni sits on her straight-backed chair, her musicians on either
side. She says that she gets vocal power through her hips, in
the sitting position, that she wouldn't get standing up. Sort
of like how standing singers will lift a knee towards their chin
when they're belting one out. She wears cute little hippiesque
outfits, this time it was a little purple psychedelic sundress
with an iridescent sheer panel on the bottom. She closes her
eyes and flings her arms over her head, and, in a delicate yet
passionate voice, sings songs about life and love that resonate
in every listener's soul.
It's trite to say "she's the real deal" but Toni
is, in a way no one else can match, at least for me.
Yeah, and then there's Guy Forsyth. I keep naggin' you guys
to see him when he plays at Poor David's, yes? Now I'm simply
ordering you to go. Must I get the whip? Again?
The blues as a genre is falling on hard times, and in my opinion,
it's because there just hasn't been anything new or innovative
out there in a long, long time. Enter Guy. He is one of the originators
of the Asylum Street Spankers, you know?, so he has this sort
of vaudeville, theatrical streak.
 First of all, he
has this physical presence. He's a kung fu practitioner, so he's
got perfect posture, body awareness, balance-equals-power, that
kind of thing going for him. Much as Toni Price has a physical
presence that can be equally understood by both women and men,
Guy is also attractive across the board. I find this quality
to be rare and so I don't want to diminish it by saying, you
know, crude cliches, like "he's a real babe," or "there
wasn't a dry seat in the house." (right, Guy Forsyth
and his saw)
Guy does Sunday nights at Antone's (remember Stevie Ray?)
when he's in town. He also plays in Europe a couple of times
a year, does the Canadian blues festivals, and has constant Texas
gigs. Like everyone else I saw this past weekend, Guy's put on
his road miles and lived to smile about it.
The band du jour includes Guy on resonator guitar, guitar,
mouth harp and saw. Yeah, the kind you buy at the hardware. The
amazing and congenial George Reary plays guitar; Ann Marie plays
basses; I missed the sultry-looking drummer's name, I'm lookin'
for it, and also the guys she allowed to join her at the traps.
It's pretty yin and yang to see the pleasantly macho Forsyth
with a sexy female rhythm section.
Guy's got the pipes. He can project like nobody's business,
probably all those years as a Spanker, they don't use mics or
amps. At one point, he jumped off the stage, and paced like a
tiger around the dance area of the warehouse-like club, singing
without amplification. I never heard the song before, but it
was something bluesy and strong, to the effect of, and I quote:
"Don't fuck it up now, OK?" He snarls. He yells. I
swoon. Oh! Where was I?!
 You could have heard a pin drop.
The entire crowd held its collective breath. He had us in the
palm of his hand, and he closed his fingers in around us. It
was truly a magic moment. I've never seen anybody do anything
like it before. There was a collective gasp in the audience when
he hopped back on stage and let us go.
I had hoped to hear him sing duets with Wendy Colonna, but
that didn't happen this particular night. She did drop by the
club though, with her new CD single, "MayDay". (You
can hear it at her site, http://www.wendycolonna.com). In any
fair world, that song would be pop hit of the summer. She's got
lots of musical irons in the fire and performs around town frequently
with her own band. By the way, she's a very, very, very sexy
dancer. I just happen to know that. Don't ask! (right, Wendy
Colonna)
Guy Forsyth is a showman in a classic sense. I once heard
him describing his music (and that of others) as "medicinal
music". After the show, I went up to him for one of those
big 'ol sincere, "I'm-here-now" Guy Forsyth hugs.
"Your music makes me happy," I grin. "You're
so very entertaining."
He ruffles my hair like a brother. "That's my job,"
he says.
xoxoxox,
Bonny
You can contact Bonny Holder at bonny-at-rockzilla.net
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