I know what you're thinking: "If I listen to country music my front yard will fill up with rusty old cars and broken down home appliances, I'll end up watching reruns of Hee-Haw and they'll make me listen to Latoya Jackson's country album when it comes out" (a truly frightening prospect I must say). Well, you can rest assured. I know jazz and world beat fans whose yards are full of broken down symbols of American industrial technology, so what? This is the 90s, it's art. Hey, what's wrong with watching Hee-Haw? You probably already watch "Gilligan's Island", "Green Acres", "Sanford and Son" or any other of the reruns from our collective video past, but none of them have appearances by country music greats in their prime, with outlandishly cool rhinestone suits and big hairdos! Of course, no one will make you listen to Latoya's country record . . . we'll just file it in the country music bin, next to Olivia Newton-John.

I will do my galdangest to bring you as much fun stuff about country music and it's makers as possible. I hope you'll send me whatever you got as well.

I'll shoot you some opinions (which I have a few of), playlists, reading material, favorites old and new, great recipes for out-a-sight ways to roast, fillet, saute, puree', hold, look at, or laugh at...PORK!!!, and whatever else I can come up with.

The one thing we have in common is COUNTRY MUSIC.

Well, Ms. Lily Hibiscus and I have been gettin'' our country music kicks so far this year. We rode on down to Nashville and Rocket city U.S.A., {Huntsville, Ala. down Hank Sr.'s way} and caught Emmylou Harris' show at the Michigan theatre shortly after comin' back. Throw in the Alison Krauss concert at the Michigan Theatre last December, Mary Chapin Carpenter and the Mavericks at Hill Aud, and it adds up to a pretty full plate of country music happenings. Of course that was all months ago. Y'all should have your tickets for the two big country shows in Ann Arbor this June: JOHNNY CASH on Tuesday June 18th, and Junior Brown on Thursday June 26th. By the way, he'll be opening for the MAVERICKS. I think tickets range from 45$-20$.

Ms. Lily and I shelled out almost 70 bucks to see Alison Krauss and Mary Chapin and the Mavericks, an unbelievable amount of cash for a country music concert. My feeling is that country music and Mexican food are the same. If you pay 40 bucks for Mexican food, you should still be eating it six weeks later. Shoot we paid 40 bucks apiece for tickets to see Mary Chapin and the Mavericks, and there was nary a fiddle or steel guitar in the hall! We should still be listenin' to that show!!. Imagine that, two of the biggest stars of modern Country Music, and they got no fiddles or steel guitars. I kept lookin' for a steel, lap steel, stand up steel with no pedals, single neck Sho-Bud, or a twin neck Emmons with pearl inlay and rods, levers, and pedals, glistening like a newly chromed front end on a Peter-Built fueled and ready to roll, But NOOOO. I asked Lily,"Where's the steel?, you think he'll come out later?", she gave me that look and a smile and I knew I was hopelessly outdated and needed a "Steel Lover's Anonymous" meeting as soon as I could get one. Mary Chapin seemed darker and more introspective than her Come On Come On tour, and she got the biggest applause when she did her older songs, "Down at the Twist and Shout" and the songs from Come On Come On It's apparent that she has a certain fondness for Ann Arbor, she played the Ark years ago. In fact Tex Mannheim did an interview with her back then. Maybe we can get him to post the transcripts some day. Her Come On Come On album still gets regular play on our stereo. Fortunately for me, my family vaulted me into the digital age by buying me a compact disc changer for my 40th birthday. I can now listen to country music on 78-33-45 tape-and disc. I wonder what media will be next. Anyway, Raul Malo and the boys opened for MCC with a set of pretty fine music. They did a rousing rendition of Merle Haggards "The Bottle Let Me Down" that roccccked! and showcased ole Raul's voice on Patsy Cline's "Sweet Dreams". That sucker can wail allright. I didn't like the show as much as Lily Hibiscus, who enjoyed it immensely. It's just that Country Music without fiddles or steel guitars can't make up its mind whether it's rock or pop and sounds repetetive after a while. Shoot, a belly-rubber, weeper, or even a rocker with no steel fills or fiddle whines just don't fill my canteen. Besides, there is very little authenticity to that "country rock sound." Christ, you're more likely to hear that Common Thread Eagles Tribute on country radio than you would George, Merle, Buck, Loretta, Tammy or Kitty; and their all still alive and kickin'!! Most of today's players are inter-changeable. Case in point; TNN just played some guy named George Ducas' video for the song "Lipstick Promises". With songs like this, TNN's version of Dance Fever, and the state of commercial country radio, it won't be long until LaToya Jackson does a Jimmie Rodgers tribute album. Don't get me wrong, theres a lot of new music out there that saddles my horse. Lookit what Big Sandy and His Fly Rite Boys are doing for Western Swing, and Dale Watson for Honky Tonk. Bill Kirchen is driving his diesel attack truck driving songs back onto the highways at the head of a crop of young artists who are fed up with the bullshit grandeur and hollow authenticity of Nashville droogies. Wayne Hancocks CD is pretty hot as well. It's got that hard twang, slap bass and no drum sound of early 50's hillbilly music, plus the steel guitar of Herb Steiner, from Alvin Crow's Pleasant Valley Boys. What ever happened to ol Alvin? Did he make a "Retirement Run?". I guess he still has no desire to leave the state of Texas. I went to see ol' Wayne at the Blind Pig with George (fun fingers) Bedard, an' had a good ol' time. Though it was as sparse as a band could be, we almost thought we were in a Texas Roadhouse Hell. It was Wayne, a pounding a big ol' bass, and a guy playing both a steel guitar and standard electric. He wasn't playing a guit-steel like Jr. Brown, he sat at his steel with his six string strapped over his shoulder. Wayne twanged out a nice mix of J. Cash and Hank Sr. songs mixed in with his fine honky tonk originals. By the way, let's all bombard Schoolkids Records with phone calls and letters, demanding they release GEORGE BEDARD'S newest compact disc. I know if George Bedard lived anywhere but Ann Arbor, Ann Arbor record stores, booking agents and radio stations, WEMU in particular, would be giving George the recognition he so richly deserves and so sadly lacks. I'll tell you what, The ol' "Arbor Town" is ga-ga over Alison Krauss. She graduated from two shows a night at the 250 seats of the Ark, to one sold-out show at the 1800 seat Michigan theatre. Ms. Lily and I sat 15 rows from the stage and got the proverbial "birds eye view." I was pretty despondent after what I perceived to be a lackluster, uninspired, too short (80 min.) show. Allison sang her POP brand of bluegrass in one of those "come hither" whispers of a 50 year old spinster playing baby doll games. We could barely hear her half the time. I was definitely in the minority at this show. It seemed as if the sold-out crowd gave her standing ovations after each song. Allison was shy and demure as she whipped her humorous banter at the all too orgasmic crowd. The band didn't even break a sweat. That's a tight little band too! They never cut loose with any piss and brimstone instrumentals. I leaned over and whispered in Lily's ear that I thought this was "bluegrass for heroin addicts." She laughed her luscious laugh and enjoyed every minute of the show. After the show standing in the lobby listening to everyone rave about the greatness of this performance that I thought was a hoax, I felt like I was out in the desert. I had moderate expectations going into this show, and I agreed with Tex's article in the Ann Arbor Observer, in which he called Alison the "Patti Page of Bluegrass" (an article that he took some heat for I might add) but I thought for sure she would unleash her band and stretch her vocal chords a little. Well, in the words of Waylon Jennings, I was "WRONG." I said to Ms. Lily that I thought this was definitely bluegrass for the L.L.Bean set. You know the type: emotions burn with the constant comfort of a gas flame in the fire, and whose only hardship is trying to distance the music they call Bluegrass from that "back woods cornpone shit they play on the Beverly Hillbillies." Lily gave me that look and a smile, and I sat in row 15 shaking my head. I asked Lily if she remembered seeing The "Grandaddy of Bluegrass," Mr. Bill Monroe at the Country Gold Theatre and Museum in beautiful downtown Blissfield, Mich. "Of course I do" she said. "Isn't it ironic that at 80 years old the great Bill Monroe is still touring. Here's Alison Krauss playing to a sold out house in the "Peoples Republic of Ann Arbor"(quoted from Thayrone) and a grand total of 12 people paid to see the God of Bluegrass Bill Monroe at the Country Gold Theatre and Museum in beautiful downtown Blissfield, a 25 min. drive from Ann Arbor". As we walked away, I knew that Bill Monroe would never play the Michigan Theatre, let alone sell it out. By the way, we met Bill Monroe. He was kind and gracious, doing both a promo for the DOWN HOME SHOW, and pictures with my arm around his shoulder. What a guy!!!. Oh yeah, it was a great show, his voice was strong and his fingers fast. Now, I play Alison Krauss on my show, not the Now that I Found You stuff, her earlier stuff. What I'm saying here is only an opinion, musings over a plate of beans. After that concert I remembered going to see George Jones at the Palace with Pontiac Pete, Tex, and the Farmer a couple of years ago. After the show we tried to get a promo from the Possum himself. He had already split and we ended up on the tour bus with the fiddle player (who was hot shit) named Jim Buchanan. I introduced myself and told him about the Down Home Show saying, "we play bands like Roy Hall and His Blue Ridge Entertainers". He about fell over backwards and said, "Hey my dad played fiddle for them guys." I had just mentioned a totally obscure group to prove our "bluegrass hipness" and it got us on the bus. So we're on the bus talking to a mighty fine fiddler who started fiddling for Jim and Jesse in the early 60's, fiddled with Vince Gill, David Grisman and others in the 80's, and is tied through blood to a hot string band from the 30's. He did a promo for us and we start talkin' the "commercial country radio is a drag" rap. We mention that we had just seen Alison Krauss at the Ark a couple of weeks before and asked him what he thought of her. He looked at us like we had asked him why he calls it a fiddle and not a violin, and he said, "Well I don't think she's very good for bluegrass." He tried to explain himself very diplomatically. He told us about a C.D. project he was working on, I gave him my address, we shook hands, paid him respect, said thanks and left. The whole way home (while listening to George Jones) we tried to figure out what he meant about Alison Krauss. He didn't trash her or say she's not worthy or anything like that, it was like she's stealing all the thunder or something. I wasn't sure if it was the disgruntled male traditionalist pissing and moaning about this woman band leader or what. I wished I had asked him about Laurie Lewis and her work with Grant Street. Well, I had forgotten about that experience until I was sitting in row 15 at the Michigan Theatre, listening to the softest, most dainty, pretentious bluegrass music and banter I could imagine. I was bummed for a spell, then laughed with Lily, laughing at me for spending 27.50 on a concert and whining about it.

So anyway, Lily and I saddled up and rode off to 'BAMA by way of KENTUCKY and the great state of TENNESSEE. We made sure to bring our own tunes as the days of regional radio are long gone. Now the country stations in Tennessee play the same commercial nonsense that they play in Michigan. The lack of variation from the narrow playlists of contemporary radio means there's a whole lot of music that doesn't get played, and won't get played until it's 25 years old, and then only on some formulaic "Oldies" station. AAAARGH!!!!!. The south is a beautiful place with lots of friendly folks. Me an Ms. Lily stayed with a friend in Nashville who lives two blocks from the Bluebird Cafe. We couldn't even get in the three nights we were there. We started off by getting some outta-sight tacos at the San Antonio Taco Co. across from Vanderbilt. A headbangers Taco place!! I ate a bunch of "pulled" pork that harkened me back to those days on the farm. What was funny was they were all watching the Red Wings whip ass on ESPN. Hockey in Nashville! Every day there started at the Pancake Palace, the "Angelo's" of Nashville. We were sitting there eating and Lily says, "Listen to those women behind me talking". Two ladies in the booth behind us were talking business. One say's to the other, "My demo tape is real strong. It's got some up-tempo rock songs and there's a Patsy Twang, I mean Cline song and I think it's hot stuff". I almost choked on my buckwheats. We looked around this place to see young deal makers hot on the trail of expense accounts, contracts, and bottom lines. My illusions of Nashville were slowly melting away. Next stop was the Lawrence Bros. record store. I been chomping at the bit to get inside this place since my sister picked me up a copy of Merle Haggard's, Same Train Different Time double LP Jimmie Rodgers Tribute a few years back. I had dreams of walking in and finding Jean Shepard's Stories Of A Love Affair, Red Foley's Old Shep, Deford Bailey compilation records, and you know, records by every artist who ever recorded a country music song. Well I guess that was pretty god darn unrealistic when ya think of it. What I did find was a whole lot of really great old records, unfortunately they wanted at least twenty bucks for em and most were 35-100. I bought 48 bucks worth of stuff. A couple of truck driving compilations and Red Steagall's Lone Star Beer And Bob Wills Music. The sad rarity of original recordings on old vinyl records was starting to bring me down. Ann Arbor is truly a mecca of used record stores. We are quite fortunate, I must say. Lily was undaunted. We went into THE country music record store of all time ERNEST TUBB'S RECORD STORE. Well, there was no vinyl in sight. Nothing but c.d.'s. C.D.'s of modern country guy's and gal's. You know, Achy Breakey Cyrus, and John Micheal Montgomery and not a Charlie Walker or Eddie Noack or Texas Ruby record to be found. I almost bought a couple of books but couldn't bring myself to do it. I just stood there and stared at that stage, then I closed my eyes and imagined 'ol ET himself, standing there with that big ol' stetson hat above that big ol' smile thanking us all for being there tonight and telling us that it's time for Buddy Charleton to play Gardenia Waltz, or Buddy Emmon's to play Rose City Chimes or Leon Rhodes to play twin leads with one BUDDY or another. Then the tightest band in all of country music would back up wonderful steel and guitar twins as the crowd sways to the soothing sounds of country music instrumentation. Well, they've got alot of pictures on the walls of the old days, but that seems kinda like wearing tennis shoes with a Nudie suit. It just don't get it. By this time it was 10:30 a.m. and I was starting to get frustrated. Lily however was undaunted. We walked down to the waterfront and sat by the river for awhile just breathing that sweet southern air. We then went into the Great Escape on the riverfront where my faith in purchasing some good old vinyl was restored. At least they had a selection of stuff that I already had and were selling it for 4-30 bucks apiece. I still couldn't find Johnny Paycheck's Lovin' Machine or the Hank Jr. album with "Future's On Ice" on it so we took off. We walked up to the Ryman and did the tour. Lily took my picture standing center stage behind that WSM microphone. HEEYAUGH!!!! So we went up in the hallways and looked at the pictures of the original cast and I tried to name them all while Lily laughed and checked the names. I got maybe, 40%. Other people standing around got a kick out of it. On our way out we stopped in the gift shop where I was sure I could buy compilation's of the old time performers from the early days of the Opry. "If ya can't buy it at the Ryman, you probably can't buy it at all" I thought. Well... the Ryman gift shop was full of that obnoxious stuff you buy at carnivals or suburban flea markets, with a revisionist historical slant, and a feverish, right wing conservative agenda. Ricky "I know God personally, and he rents from Pat Robertson" Skaggs and Marty "I carry the torch of tradition alone and I am humble" Stuart were on a continuous video, schlepping the History of Gospel on the Grand ol Opry. That was as historical as it got. I was disappointed at the silly naivette that propelled me throughout this trip. We did have a really fine time in Nashville. I don't want there to be any doubt about that. Shoot, if we found good work, we'd move there in a minute. Well, enough about that trip for now, I'll tell you about the COUNTRY MUSIC HALL OF FAME, AND ALL THE "gift shops of the stars" next time around. It's time to head into the audio room at the ranch and start listening to some of my favorites.