Hello, friends. I was a bit shocked to realize upon posting The Curse of the Bass Player that it had been over a month since I wrote anything for this weblog. I’ve been feeling pretty overextended, and this was one of the things that gave when I wasn’t able to keep all the balls in the air.

There’s been a lot of good and interesting stuff going on. Back at the end of last month, I spent a slightly extended weekend in Georgia, visiting Chris. It was a fantastic time. We listened to some good bluegrass, visited several good museums, ate Georgia-style BBQ (which is nothing like BBQ in Texas), went bike riding and hiking, climbed on public sculpture, ate some absolutely spectacular Pho, and generally had a delightful romp.

Two particular standouts: Amy Etheridge, Chris’ lady friend, gave us a personal guided tour of the Gertrude Herbert Institute of Art, where she serves as the Executive Director. The Institute is a beautiful place, and was hosting a fair bit of fun and interesting art as part of its current exhibit.

Amy also came along for the drive-in-movie night that turned into a bowling night. After Chris’ come-from-behind bowling victory, we passed a little store with a sign out front that boldly proclaimed it “The Monkey Store.” It was open. “THE MONKEY STORE?” we all said, nearly in unison. “We’ve GOT to go see what that’s about.” So, we turned around, drove back, parked, and ventured into The Monkey Store.

We were a mite disappointed to discover nothing more exotic for sale than animal feed and Pringles. (But I’m being redundant. Haha!) However, the fellow on duty and his friend, who’s family trees were evidently palms, made up in color for anything the store itself lacked. We asked them about why the place was called The Monkey Store, and he explained that there used to be monkeys. (I was never quite clear if these were just wild monkeys that were hanging around the area, or promotional monkeys specially imported for the store.) Apparently the flocks (gaggles? murders? ah, a “band” or “troop”, according to the Oracle at Google) of monkeys dwindled over time, and eventually vanished altogether. By way of explanation, the clerk explained that “People take monkeys for all kinds of reasons. You know…you know in China, people eat monkey brains…monkey brains are a delicatessen over there.” I had to very assiduously avoid looking at my brother during this exchange to keep a straight face. After we’d had our fill of Monkey Store fun, Amy bought a corncob pipe and we drove off into the night.

A couple of weekends later, we made our way south for Sand Castle Days, a great big sandcastle building contest down in South Padre. Kathy and Emily joined teams, and took 2nd and 3rd place respectively in their division. The other kids and I played in the sand down by the waves, building castles and then building buttresses and waterworks to keep the castles from being washed away by incoming waves.

On Saturday night, the other members of the Grant Mazak Band and I played backup for Ponty Bone an accordionist who plays Texas-flavored Zydeco music. In addition to the usual suspects, we were joined by another slide guitarist, an additional accordionist, and a great fiddler. Additionally, there was an Australian fellow with some funky dreadlocks who had a drum slung around his neck, which he played as he shuffled around the dance floor amid the other sand-caked dancers.

We also got to see my friend David Barnard, who recently moved from Austin back to Brownsville until the new year. It was fun to catch up with him, as well as to have lunch with Mike Howard, with whom I share an office at work, and his family down there. We ate at Blackbeard’s, which was yummy in an everything-deep-fried kind of way.

So, that’s the text summary. I’m working on a pictorial update as well, and hope to have that ready too in the not-too-distant future.

Possum John forwarded this to me, and I thought it worth a reprint:

THE CURSE OF THE BASS PLAYER

In the beginning there was a bass.

It was a Fender, probably a Precision, but it
could have been a Jazz – nobody knows. Anyway, it was very old
…definitely pre- C.B.S.

And God looked down upon it and saw that it was
good. He saw that it was
very good in fact, and couldn’t be improved on at
all (though men
would later try.)

And so He let it be and He created a man to play
the bass. and lo
the man looked upon the bass, which was a
beautiful ‘sunburst’ red,
and he loved it. He played upon the open E string
and the note
rang through the earth and reverberated
throughout the firmaments
(thus reverb came to be.)

And it was good. And God heard that it was good
and He smiled at his
handiwork.

Then in the course of time, the man came to slap
upon the bass. And lo
it was funky. And God heard this funkiness and He
said, “Go man, go.”

And it was good. And more time passed, and,
having little else to
do, the man came to practice upon the bass.

And lo, the man came to have upon him a great set
of chops. And he
did play faster and faster until the notes rippled
like a breeze
through the heavens.

And God heard this sound which sounded something
like the wind, which
He had created earlier. It also sounded something
like the movement
of furniture, which He hadn’t even created yet,
and He was not so
pleased.

And He spoke to the man, saying “Don’t do that!”
Now the man heard the
voice of God, but he was so excited about his new
ability that he
slapped upon the bass a blizzard of funky notes.
And the heavens
shook with the sound, and the Angels ran about in
confusion. (Some of
the Angels started to dance, but that’s another
story.)

And God heard this – how could He miss it – and
lo He became
Bugged. And He spoke to the man, and He said,
“Listen man, if I
wanted Jimi Hendrix I would have created the
guitar. Stick to the
bass parts.”

And the man heard the voice of God, and he knew
not to mess with it.

But now he had upon him a passion for playing
fast and high.

The man took the frets off of the bass which God
had created.

And the man did slide his fingers upon the
fretless fingerboard and play
melodies high upon’ the neck.

And, in his excitement, the man did forget the
commandment of the
Lord, and he played a frenzy of high melodies and
blindingly fast licks.

And the heavens rocked with the assault and the
earth shook, rattled
and rolled.

Now God’s wrath was great. And His voice was
thunder as He spoke to the
man. And He said, “O.K. for you, pal. You have not
heeded My word. Lo, I
shall create a soprano saxophone and it shall
play higher than you
can even think of.” “And from out of the chaos I
shall bring forth
the drums. And they shall play so many notes
thine head shall ache,
and I shall make you to always stand next to the
drummer.”

“You think you’re loud? I shall create a stack of
Marshall guitar amps
to make thine ears bleed. And I shall send down
upon the earth other
instruments, and lo, they shall all be able to
play higher and faster
than the bass.” “And for all the days of man, your
curse shall be
this: that all the other musicians shall look to
you, the bass player,
for the low notes.

And if you play too high or fast all the other
musicians shall say “Wow”
but really they shall hate it. And they shall
tell you you’re
ready for your solo career, and find other bass
players for their
bands. And for all your days if you want to play
your fancy licks you
shall have to sneak them in like a thief in the
night.” “And if you
finally do get to play a solo, everyone shall
leave the bandstand and go
to the bar for a drink.”

And it was so.