Faust and Lewis

5/3/96

At one point, Wes looked over at me and said, “ I can’t believe what people will do when you put a microphone in front of them!” He was, of course, referring to the four women gyrating epileptically in front of Faust and Lewis whilst screeching out Beach Boys songs. Mmhmm I thought, that could apply to the band too...

I’m downtown during the Conch Republic Independence Festival, and it’s musical comedy here in the trenches at Sloppy Joe’s. The fearless and ribald duo on stage are taking no prisoners, and the crowd is roaring it’s approval by howling lyrics and laughing at themselves as they get harpooned by finely honed witticisms. Somehow, the two men are on a first name basis with half of the audience, and zero in on the ones with the highest entertainment value. Some of them are actually invited on stage =:-0 Most musicians would rather work a day job than hand a live mic to a fiercely partying member of the general public, but Faust and Lewis keep things under control while the participants perform lustily for their 15 minutes of fame.

In the musical comedy genre, music often will take a back seat to the comedy. Not in this act: these guys are good. Rusty plays keyboards and sax, Wayne plays guitar and banjo, and they sing with the ease and tight harmonies of long years on the road together. They also have killer solo acts, but alone or as a duo, their material is topical, original, and hilarious, laced with the standards you know and love.

Some advice for attending the Faust and Lewis show...they are not G rated, and be prepared to wind up as part of the act.

Joel Nelson

5/17/96

In the high employee turnover and politically charged corporate world of the resort, such staying power is a mystery. But when you walk toward the beach on a perfect spring evening, and Joels’ rich voice and fine guitar emerge from the gentle darkness, it just seems right. Here there is no artifice, no fake Jamaican accent, no pile of electronic wizardry cranking out a faux band, just a man and his guitar singing from the heart with a voice strong and true. This minstrel tradition resonates so powerfully from our past that even the most absorbed of the bean-counters can look up from their books and smile, tap their fingers and realize...this is an artist worth keeping .

Joels’ new cd will be out soon, and it’s filled with excellent writing and performances.

One World

5/31/96

One of my favorite things to do after a day on the water is cruise ever so slow and cool up Key West Harbor in my teal and white ‘67 Glastron, smiling smugly at the envious tourists along Mallory Square and checking out the music scene at the waterfront resorts. Last stop on this self-indulgent promenade is the Pier House, where we can holler up at Bob and Keith as they pound out the mighty soca for the Havana Docks sunset crowd. As One World, they’ve been keeping the sunset party on the upstairs deck going for 6 years, coming up on their 2000th (!!) sunset.

I thought it would be an interesting twist to do some of my research from the boat, so after a fun afternoon of snorkeling, we let Miss Otis drift into the Pier House boundary buoys and took in the evening’s sights and sounds.

One World is a knowing conductor of the sunset ritual, letting the music soften in pace and intensity as the sun settles into the sea, pausing for reflection at it’s final disappearance. From solid reggae like ‘Stir it Up’ to earthy calypso classics like ‘Mary Ann’, they provide a soulful and satisfying accompaniment to Key West’s Big Show: all manner of strange and wonderful craft chock full of turistas heading out for the evening cruise; Tarpon begin to swirl the lagoon waters; parasailers and ultra-lights, seabirds diving for supper, biplanes doing loops and barrel rolls fill out the third dimension; and everything is illuminated by pyrotechnic beauty. Ah, but when the sun is down and serious partying begins, One World cranks up the tempo and feet can’t stay still...and neither can we. Soon it’ll be too dark to dock, so you’ll just have to go see them yourselves.

Barry Cuda

6/21/96

Kent Smith wants to educate you, St. Petey Twig loves that New Orleans music as long as it's pre-1959, Barrycuda is a smart-ass jokester, and The Pianamal bares his teeth while savaging his poor, beat up instrument with all parts of his body. This could be a band roster, but you'll find any or all of these manifestations residing in one body at many of our indigenous watering holes, or bemusing tourists by trundling his trusty piano down the streets on specially made hand-carts.

I thought about these aspects of Barrycuda, as I worked installing a new mixing console at Sloppy Joe's around noon one day. Prior to his shift, the house system was playing DMX, and the vibe was typical, generic, tourists-shopping-for-a-T-shirt-and-tossing- down-a-cold-one kinda mellow who cares might as well be in Wichita. But when the crystalline perfection of digitally recorded music was elbowed out of the way by the brash upstart on stage playing that Nawlins kinda music, the place started to feel alive...and real. People started paying attention to where they were; I could see puzzlement here and there, but happy acceptance. You don't hear much of this music back in America's heartland. In fact, he regularly tours Scandinavia because Europeans love this uniquely American music and put our knowledge of it to shame.

Barrycuda is true to his roots, being careful to acknowledge his influences: Champion Jack Dupree, Slim Gaillard, Louis Jordan, Jerry Lee Lewis, Snooks Eglin, Allen Toussaint...but he's hammered out his own style. It's a tasty gumbo of rag, jump blues, barrel house, pre-guitar rock, stride, boogie woogie; tied together with gifted piano work, whacked-out humor and stream of consciousness patter. All of this is multiplied when he's joined by the Sharks, an extraordinary collective of musicianship and oddball comedy.

Sunday at the Parrot

7/12/96

Anyone who thinks "how can I miss you if you won't go away" is just an old Groucho Marx line has never had a case of Rock Fever. Key West is an awfully small island assaulted by growing pains; heavily gesticulated traffic jams, a new Hard Rock Cafe, a cheesy Orlando clone, too many BMWs, Jaguars, et al...sometimes the urge to be _anywhere_ else can become overpowering. Fortunately, a quick trip to the West Coast of Florida where strip malls and manufactured homes sprout like malignant mushrooms in the cow pastures gave me a booster shot of antidote. Sitting in the alcohol drenched sauna that is The Green Parrot on a Sunday night in summer, my sneaker soaked from bumping into the water dish of the dog patrons, listening to great blues emanating from the stage...I realized there's no place like home.

Sundays are the day owner John Vagnoni books special events like Bluegrass jams, singer-songwriter rounds, poetry slams, and currently, a blues jam hosted by Bill Blue, Larry Estridge, and Chief Billy. These events all lean heavily to acoustic music, and I'm pleased to say the Blues night is no exception. There's lots of excellent slide and rhythm work from Larry's acoustic guitar, Chief Billy's upright bass thumps with an energetic, rootsy appeal, and every lick and lyric from Bill comes across clear and timeless. These gentlemen have real credentials, having worked with the greats and infamous, and they obligingly share their experience with a succession of guests ranging from the OK to the surprisingly good. For real music, real people, and the real Key West, check out Sundays at the Green Parrot at Southard and Whitehead Streets.

7/26/96

"Ohmygawd, there's a Giant Extended Hemingway on stage!" - a brainwashed tourist peeking into Kelly's Caribbean Bar, Grill, and Brewery during the 1st annual Key West Jazz Festival.

The Freudian Slip uttered above was, of course, about the 9 foot Steinway Grand Piano that was massaged, pounded, and caressed by musicians, sworn at by roadies, and lovingly tuned by Karin Solis between almost every act. Theloveofmylife Melody and I had the honor of engineering the sound for the festival's two days, and even though my technical aspects are in full, roaring, _tense_ control during a sound gig, there was an abundance of fine music pulling me to the surface and grabbing my attention.

The headliners were out-of-towners, but our local contingent turned in equally exciting performances. Certainly, our jazz scene has rarely felt this vibrant, adventurous, and cooperative, with unexpected permutations like a classic organ trio consisting of Brian Murphy, Tim McAlpine on guitar, and Steve Mello on drums; and a Toots Thielman-meets-Spyro Gyra combo headed up by Jaui Schneider. Even listing all the players would exceed my word count, so lets just say I'm very proud of Key West's musicians, thoroughly enjoyed the awesome Rebecca Parris, the scholarly Jack Pezzanelli Quartet, and wish there was more local support for jazz.

Kelly's did our community a service by bringing in the Shirley Horn Trio. She is one of the greats: a producer, arranger, pianist, and vocalist of unique vision and power. Indeed, though apparently frail, she hammered the sound system into the red whenever she wanted to. Her rendition of "Fever" was extremely sexy and dynamic, "Here's to Life" moved many to tears, and throughout, piano, bass, and drums were like extensions of her soul.

While awaiting the next festival, check out: the Dave Burns Trio, Sat. 8:30-12 @ the Queens Table (Santa Maria); Lonnie Jacobson and Jaui or Brian @ Flaglers (Casa Marina) Sun.-Wed. evenings.

The Dave Burns Trio

8/9/96

It's Saturday night at The Queen's Table Restaurant in the Santa Maria Hotel, and I'm flashing on the 60's. No, not those 60's, the Other Sixties...The Rat Pack and Las Vegas, Martinis and James Bond, Manhattans and Bikinis, Highballs and cigarettes. The classic roadhouse architecture, decor, and vintage furnishings make this a perfect setting to offer an apology to your love while the cool jazz trio plays "A Time For Love". Even the instruments look the part: '63 Ludwig "champagne sparkle" drums, a wonderful antique upright bass, a Roland Digital Piano...whoops, back in the '90's. But it doesn't matter. The music and players are happenin', man.

Dave Burns has always been one of my favorite musicians. It seems to me that many jazz players have exchanged passion and soul for a barrage of notes that may be pyrotechnic and technically challenging, but leave me cold. Dave hasn't forgotten the blues roots of jazz, and plays with a gospel tinged fire that can be breath-taking in its emotion, dynamics, and power. Since I'm a bass player, Lonnie Jacobson is another of my heroes, taking command of his upright with a smooth and powerful touch that I can only envy. Over the years I've seen him perform with some *serious* heavy-weights, and he's always given as good as he's got. On the evening in question, Jaui Schneider was subbing for Matsu on drums, which astonished me. I'm used to his fine piano and harmonica playing, highly respect his song writing, understand that he's a really good bass player, but a drummer?! Some people are too talented :)

As a trio, this is the real thing. They support and build on each others' vocabulary, spanning all the decades of jazz existence with genuine respect and feeling. I highly recommend stopping by The Queen's Table 8:30-12:00 on Saturday nights.

Caribe

9/13/96

A gentle night breeze sweeps from the sea across the red brick pavement, tickling the ankles of the dancers, carrying the aroma of seafood paella and the joyous throb of a salsa tune. It lures me west on the Duval midway... I feel like I'm coming to a zocalo in Latin America, the town square that we've all but abandoned for a diffuse and isolated culture.

The Ocean Key House has transformed 0 Duval street into a great entertainment spot, and displays real taste and intelligence by hiring Caribe, Key West's own salsa band. I've always been a fan, from the group's inception as a BIG band in the early 90's with 3 (!!) vocalists and a horn section, to it's present day compact-but-piquant and powerful structure with Rolando Rojas on keyboards/ bass/ lead vocals, Jose Rodriguez on flute/ vocals, Marty Stonely on sax/ vocals, Mundy Ramirez on congas, and Richie Ciavolino on drums. Of course, _everyone_ plays percussion with complete happiness and abandon when needed. I have to mention that on this particular night, newcomer Raul Oviedo, a premiere recording and touring artist, was filling in on drums. He is an extraordinary player, and I hope he sticks around town.

This is serious dance music. The street quickly fills with inexperienced but game tourists, silky smooth and sexy young Latin couples, elegant and agile older partners... it's a celebration of life, a visceral experience that brings people together regardless of geographical upbringing and culture. The group mixes up salsa, merengue, bolero, Latin jazz, and cumbia, often transforming a traditional standard from one style and tempo to another with great effect.

The music Caribe performs with so much heart and soul is a more representative and overlooked part of Key West's heritage than calypso and reggae. Drop in to Zero's @ 0 Duval, Fri&Sat 8-12pm.

Scott Kirby

10/18/96

...is a very lucky man. While making his new album, top-notch players were in town and delighted to record with him, he had time off from work, and Truman Ave. was being torn up right in front of our studio. He may be the only person on the receiving end of that monstrous construction boondoggle that got real benefits: no moped horns, Harleys, boom cars... no traffic at all to disturb our blissful recording of an entirely acoustic album. All this, and his job consists of playing solo at The Beach Bar on the Pier House beach for the last 8 years, he's got a lovely, intelligent wife with a good income, and owns the flat out best sounding guitar I've ever heard. Sheesh. Oh yeah, he's also a tremendous song writer. Some people...

The other evening I tossed up my hands and gave up on work, got on my bike and headed down to have a listen. Different aspects of a musician manifest themselves live or in the studio, so I'm curious to see Scott's transformation. The first thing I notice is the good PA sound he gets (sorry, I can't help it), and the second is how the vibe is homey, relaxed, and intimate. Scott is the genial host, regaling his visitors with songs and stories, and his audience is attentive and friendly, accepting newcomers warmly.

Wanting to relax even further, I head over to the chaise lounges with my beer and sprawl out, and let the music wash over me. Songs from James Taylor, songs from his new project, all good stuff now in permanent rotation on that juke box in my head...and then he sings "Majestic Pain", a song from his last album I hadn't heard, and tears well up in my eyes. What can I say? He writes_really_well. Find out for yourself Wed-Sun 8:30-11:30 at the Pierhouse Beach Bar.

11/1/96

The night is a bitter taste in my mouth as I head downtown. As I pass through Bayview Park on my bike, I look at the refurbished band pavilion with new understanding. Long an impromptu homeless shelter slated to be demolished, influential Conchs were able to have it rebuilt. It seems that it reminded them of the good old days. Tonight, I can really feel the pain of losing one more piece of Key West history, because tonight, Captain Hornblowers is shutting down for good. It opened just months after I got here, 19 years ago.

Those of you who have only seen the place in its' ragged last years may wonder why I mourn. Those who remember its' 80s swaggering, smooth groovin, feverishly jammin good times and music understand. Surrounded by open air, treetops, and an oh-so-hip-party-til-dawn-and- further-on-weekends packed house, you were witness to the finest jazz players deep into their muse, and the febrile intrigues of a free and easy social scene. A sensual, tropical, music-and-humanity-soaked feast for the senses...

Tonight is much different. There is virtually no audience, the band is on break, and the place seems to echo my depression...I just want to go home. But I stay for old times sake, nursing a beer and my sorrow, when suddenly the piano roars to life with the unmistakable energy of Dave Burns, Matsu and Lonnie jump in, and Danny Knowles, Captain Hornblower himself, is making his fluglehorn sing. Sometime during the set, I realize there is sadness here, but also the excitement of a new beginning in Panama City, the sudden freedom of ending an unworkable situation. I smooth out, feel a warm glow coming on. The music is good. Just like I remember.

Chief Billy

11/22/96

Even on an island that's as cosmopolitan and ethnically diverse as most large cities, the band rollicking through a blues set on stage at the Turtle Kraals this Wednesday night raised my right eyebrow. Here we have Brian Murphy, God's gift to the keyboards, who is Irish Canadian; Yoshitaka Uetmatsu, a famous Tokyo jazz drummer laying down a classic hop-beat groove; and Chief Billy, the Mayan- Spanish- Mexican- Basque Blues Beat Poet and writer Deluxe blowing harp, telling tales, playing bass, guitar, and growling out the lyrics. I highly approve of this kind of multi-ethnic roots- fusing musical cross fertilization and feel the world would be a much better place if more people tried this sort of thing.

Matsu, Murphy, and Chili is the Chiefs' newest experiment in bands, and what it lacks in polish wrought by long association and standard tunes is negligible compared to the raw talent, inventiveness, and fun these players bring to the gig. Check 'em out at Finnegan's Wake and the Kraals as their bookings and other commitments allow; they're all players in high demand.

Chief Billy's past is much too intricate to get into here, but one highlight was playing bass on a CD and extensive touring with the legendary Roy Bookbinder, and he will regale you with a certain relish and far-away eyes about their European adventures, where they played the biggest festivals and partied fiendishly with famous names and personal heroes. Currently, he also works with Barrycuda as one of the Sharks, which is a suitable outlet for his eclectic and outrageous-but-scholarly musical side, does a number of solo gigs, writes a column for Key West the Newspaper, and is working on short stories and a novel. People like Chief Billy are one of the reasons I live here... it's still the home of the unusual and talented.

Sam Anderson

12/6/96

Blacktops and barrooms
Long distance telephone
Passing time and county lines with late-night radio
Rolling through the heartland on a half a tank of dreams
Answering the calling of a wooden box and strings

Sometimes it's for the rainbows
Sometimes it's for the gold
Sometimes it's like a prison down a dark and winding road
But singing for my supper feeds the hunger in my soul
I hope there'll always be another thousand miles to go
--Sam Anderson... 1000 Miles

This verse and chorus are a lucid glimpse of the life and forces that drive a very special breed of musician; citizens of the highway, enduring the hardships of the road for the pleasure of bringing their music directly to the people. Sam's been on the road nine years, accompanied by his dog The Rev. Blind Dog Jazzbo, and this last year with his vibrant wife Lavena as road manager. They worked in 20 states in '96, and he was one of the chosen few new emerging New Folk performers at the huge Kerrville Folk festival in Texas.

Gifted singer/songwriters like Sam have always been hard to categorize, but the latest, closest designation seems to be New Acoustic. To me, he sounds thoroughly American, a combination of blues and folk with pinches of jazz, rag, and Old Timey thrown in for flavor. He lists Rev. Gary Davis, Mance Lipscomb, Scott Joplin, and Chet Atkins as playing influences, and Guy Clark, Tom Waits, Kris Kristofferson, Shel Silverstein, and John Prine as song-writing paradigms.

You can find Sam at Mangrove Mamas, Schooner Wharf, and the Green Parrot when he's home in the Keys, and if you live elsewhere, he may be performing somewhere near you right now!

Seaport Festival

12/20/96

TFAKWHSMF

Whew! Even initialized, The First Annual Key West Historic Seaport Music Festival is an impressive title. Private Ear had the honor of providing sound for the two stages of the event on a beautiful, sunny December 14th, and I personally manned the knobs at the William street stage. First up was Flying Colors, headed up by singer/ songwriter/ guitarist David Goodman, and they blasted off with a powerful set of their trademark thinking-mans originals and eclectic covers. Even preoccupied with saddling up and fine tuning the big-ass sound system we'd assembled for the gig, I often stopped and admired this truly fine band. Check 'em out at the Hogsbreath Saloon.

Next up was Amandla Tunesmith, out of Tampa, by way of Africa, Hawaii, Cuba, and the French Antilles. This band was terrifying to the soundman part of me, but much anticipated by my musician side. They are a LARGE band, and we hired extra help for the changeover. They were well worth the effort... we were floored by the driving World Beat big band sound complete with horns, extra beefy percussion, and that terminally groovoid African guitar style I love so well. We wuz in the pocket now that I knew we weren't going to blow the breakers or speakers...

Then...

Terrance Simien took the stage. Damn! What a rush! This squeezebox pounding maelstrom and his band took me totally by surprise. Zydeco is the jump off point, but it goes well beyond that... an orchestra of groove and soul, echoing art-rock bands like Yes, ELP, Dixie Dregs, Little Feat... but with no pretensions and a greasy, down-home backbeat. Yow! I even went to see them again that night...

This was only 1/2 the show, and it was free! The sponsors and organizers should be proud of themselves for bringing this level of talent to the Keys.

1/3/97

The lights are out, a siren fades into the distance, and the beautiful speakeasy proprietor flounces through the room, encouraging you to pull out your hip-flask and refill your glasses: the raid is over. So begins TORCH!, an original cabaret act written by, produced, and starring the inimitable Melody Cooper, accompanied by Brian Murphy. It is an intimate journey through the Torch music of the 20s' and 30's; a time of hot jazz and Harlem slumming, a time of flagpole sitters, marathon dancers, hip-flasks, hooch, speakeasies... and lurid scandalous tabloids.

The show is 1-1/2 hours of stories, anecdotes, history, and the music of legends such as Gershwin, Porter, Berlin, Rodgers and Hart, and Hammerstein. It is an extremely well written show that deeply affects the audience... Melody has never been stronger and more confident. She wears the songs like radiant gowns, totally free in her expression and emotion. You can feel her connection and rapport to the artists who wrote and performed the music as a palpable force in the room, sending a chill up the spine and making the back of your neck tingle.

Lest you get the impression that the show is all stories of the women who sang of smoke and tears and love's labor lost, Melody expertly spices up the show with upbeat thumpers like Fats Wallers' The Joint is Jumpin and Gershwins' I Got Rhythm. But ultimately, it is the ballads that are the show-stoppers, particularly The Man That Got Away... a truly superb performance that often moves the audience and singer to tears.

TORCH! is now entering it's second season, and will be playing at the newly-renovated-and-classy Cabaret Stage upstairs at the 801 bar, 801 Duval St. Fri&Sat @ 8:00. Tickets are $10/ table, $5/ bar and will be added to your tab. Phone 296-4288 for reservations.

Fritz and Lisa

1/17/97

There's a cold, for the Keys, west wind blowing off the harbor into Schooner Wharf. The dog patrons are bounding around, happy in the dropping temperature, and the shorts and t-shirt clad tourists watch in bemusement as locals bundle up in whatever they can find or borrow.

But the antidote for this cold front is coming up on stage in the form of Fritz and Lisa, who promptly warm us up with the slow throb of 'Louisiana Sunday Afternoon', followed by a pell-mell, massively arranged latin funk version of 'Lazy Afternoon', which is normally a jazz ballad. Tres cool. Everyone's bobbing around and chair dancing. Lisa gives a smoky, sandpapered-velvet treatment to Marvin Gaye's 'What's Goin On', then seeing me in the crowd and knowing my ambivalence about computers and live music, dedicates an ethereal and reflective 'Angel from Montgomery' to me, played as a guitar and vocal duet sans IBM. I appreciated the dedication, but Fritz, who likes to remain coolly in the background until it's time to blow your mind with a scorching solo, has spared no funds, energy, or his back, to bring to you a truly astonishing sound system. They've also spent countless hours of programming to back themselves up. This is NOT a shlocky, generic drum machine patched through a dinky, crusty PA backing up tired old Buffett tunes. It sounds great, and the material, performances, and energy are first class. That being said, for a rockin', R&B, blues, jazz- inflected deluxe experience, check 'em out as We B 3, a full band with Johnny Rio on drums and Tim McAlpine playing a real honest-to-God Hammond B3 organ.

Bobby McFerrin

1/31/97

Bobby McFerrin and the 35 piece St. Paul Chamber Orchestra seem made for each other: lean, agile, so perfectly in tune it's almost painful, they make Prokofiev's Symphony #1 in D Major snap and crackle with unbelievable speed and precision... the connection between the players and conductor is a tangible, vibrating force, and the dynamics are making the hair on my arms stand at attention. I don't have much background in classical music, but I've never experienced anything like this before, and I would bet most of the_very_interesting mix of people at the Dade County Auditorium haven't either. Especially when they find themselves, gray-haired-and-tuxedoed or well-pierced-and-dreadlocked, howling out the words to the Beverly Hillbillies theme song.

This is during Bobby's solo part of the program, and he's found the common cultural ground ice-breaker to get us to perform with him. Next thing you know, the sizable crowd has advanced to echoing Soul shouts, Jazz scatting, and Blues riffs. The man's joy in music, humor, and unpretentious improvisational artistry has completely won us over. 'Ahh', you say, 'the old sing along trick. Been there, done that.' OK then, how about singing an obligato part and inviting any sopranos in the house to perform Ave Maria with you... and they do. Beautifully. From all over the hall. We become instantly cool in our section as Melody lends her pure, beautiful voice to the effort. To close the first half of the program, Mr. McFerrin takes us on a musical tour of The Wizard of Oz, singing all the memorable lines from the lowest Guardsman bass to the highest Munchkin parts, leaping around the stage with manic glee. We are in stitches.

Damn, I haven't even gotten to him singing Bach's Air On the G String, or conducting Beethoven's 4th. Suffice it to say that not only is Bobby McFerrin an unparalleled vocalist, he is a brilliant conductor of a world class orchestra. Go see them if you can.

Amateurs

2/14/97

Amateur: [Fr. from Latin amator, a lover, from amare, to love] Non-professional.

Pressure. My day begins with the-all-too common Key West serenade: over at Bayview Park a couple of gas powered leaf blowers scream, someone's running a chain saw a few houses down, across the street there's the usual power saws and hammering, a Navy jet shakes the house, and turbo props brush the treetops with their landing gear on their way to the airport. A chaos that allows no serenity. It'll be a relief to get into the studio to record the incredibly-loud-but-always-interesting neo-metal duo The Psychotix.

Serenity. Just get the best sound possible, lean back and watch them enjoy the hell outta themselves. They are here for the best of reasons... the love of music. You won't find them playing in the local bars. Sure, they'd love to be rockstars. Who in their deepest fantasies doesn't?

Pressure. It's easy to look at the success stories and not see the legions of working musicians who _have_ to make music, the victims of an intense drive that is exploited by the business world from top to bottom. Selling cheap their creative energies, pieces of their souls, only to be told that it's their fault the bar is not full, not enough drinks are being sold, they are not cost effective. A chaos that allows no serenity.

Serenity. Everyone picking up instruments and singing at a party, hundreds of singers joining together once a year to craft a glorious rendition of The Messiah, the choirs at church, the bands at schools, the pros, semi-pros, and amateurs performing at benefits, Robert's golden, huge, voice as he pedals around town. In a society that worships the dollar and puts a price tag on artist's souls, you lovers are the lucky ones. Happy Valentines Day.

Dan Mobley

2/28/97

For me, Folk music tended to dredge up ancient memories of a painfully earnest and sincere youth frightened out of his wits performing with his first "real" group at a high school variety show. The memories are tinted with the sadness of lost innocence and the pain of realizing that I'm capable of wearing fuscia bell-bottoms with a yellow and green flowered shirt in public, but Dan Mobley has reawakened my respect and love for this music that I had buried deeply. He's in our studio working on an album half originals co-written with Shel Silverstein, and half a loving tribute to those classic tunes. If you think '500 Miles' is too hoary for modern consumption, just wait until you hear this...

Dan was born in Greensburg, Indiana, a son of the heartland learning the old tunes at his fathers' feet. Since the time he could hold an instrument and sing, the music has been there for him, even helping him pay his way through college. He majored in English to no avail... music won out over the teaching profession. His career follows the flow of pop music; plentiful and high profile gigs during the folk-rock era, more background and specialized gigs as pop music became urban, harder-edged, and big business, and now appreciated again as we tire of constant technology and yearn for simpler times. All along, he stayed true to his roots and nature... his rich baritone and expert finger-style playing are riveting and his material is at once classic and fresh... he is a true balladeer, and, I suspect, a hopeless romantic.

3/14/97

Corazon Gitano...

...means "Gypsy Heart", a perfect name for the duo of Guillermo Espinasse and Raffy Niziblian. Sunday nights at Grunts on Caroline St., you can close your eyes and dream of mystical Moorish castles, moonlit deserts, wild seas, and fiery eyed dancers. It is an astonishing feat to accomplish inside a neighborhood bar just a literal coconut throw from the Spring Break roar of Duval St., but the music is that powerful. It does my heart good to see that Key West can still support different and original music; maybe there's life after Hard Rock Cafe still...

Guillermo's lyrical and often explosive Flamenco-based guitar work is perfectly complimented by Raffy's subtle percussion shadings of Conga, Dumbek, woodblock, and other assorted goodies. Their material and style can possibly be shoehorned into the genre "World Beat" for those that prefer an easy label; let's just say it covers a wide swath of non-USA music from Argentina to just past the Middle East. Not to imply that the gentlemen can't do jazz standards. Far from it. Just don't expect music that would be at home on a jukebox in Columbus, Ohio.

Guillermo and his wife Alexandra, both from Buenos Aires, Argentina live aboard their sailboat Moonshadow anchored off Fleming Key. He is also a painter, designing the rather impressive album cover for his latest release, Viento. Raffy is born of an Armenian father and an Italian mother, and grew up in Cairo, Egypt. He now lives in Montreal, Canada with his wife and 2 children, though he's trying to earn enough to bring them here where it's warm. His album, Anoosh; Hai Musik (sweet traditional music in Armenian) won the Juno award in Canada.

If you crave music of extraordinary flavor that is different from the usual American diet, check out Corazon Gitano at Grunts Sunday nights and, hopefully, in other venues around town soon.

3/27/97

Siberians. The name invokes images of a dour, hardy people swaddled in ice-rimmed furs, not at all the warm and musically exceptional reality in front of me. I'm blissfully soaking up the very American jazz and pop music emanating from the stage at the Queens' Table on a Monday night, and it has a decidedly 30's swing to it. My friend Marian, a globe-trotting musician herself, cocks an eyebrow when I comment that it "doesn't sound Russian." "Music," she says archly, "has no accent."

Well said. Music is one of the universal dialects, and in that spirit, Nikolai Svishev and Alexander Nakrokhin, the Siberians in question, have teamed up with Leanna Collins Hettinger to further their exploration of American vocal music.

The two men from Novosibrsk are like left and right hands; Alexander, the cheerful rogue on the left, holds down the beat with a powerful casualness that speaks of many hours of practice. Nikolai, on the right, seems to be more serious and quiet. His leads remind me of George Benson, until he started using a ragtime banjo style(!) that worked astonishingly well.

Appropriately centered, longtime Key Westers will recognize Leanna's sensuous, joyful singing, fine guitar playing, and gracious persona. She has recently begun performing again after taking time off to start a family. Indeed, she's bringing a renewed energy to her performances, and had even us non-parents laughing with an interpretation of "Dat Dere" sung from her 17-month-old daughter's point of view. We're lucky to have her back.

This new trio shows a lot of promise; their vibe is warm and friendly, their styles and talent well matched, their musicianship top flight. They even played some Russian music. It makes you want to dance... do a little, as Marian said, "Steppes aerobics."

Terry Cassidy

5/9/97

I have the good fortune to be working on Terry Cassidy's 3rd solo album. Talented, easy going, always ready with a good story or song about life, music, and fishing... a day in the studio hardly seems like work. This is definitely not to say you can't hear the years of effort behind the music... Terry has diligently pursued his muse from the time he was "wee high to the kitchen table," perched at the top of the stairs on Tuesday nights in Cleveland when he was supposed to be in bed as his parents, grandparents, and uncles drank beer and wine and played music all night long. Most times, he was eventually busted when he started clapping along or laughing at jokes, but he was never punished, just told to go back to bed... his parents could see a budding musician and signed him up for classical guitar lessons. Soon he was staying up too late and playing along.

He practiced with a focus and intensity that amazed his parents and friends, working odd jobs to pay for instruments and supplies. His first paying gig came the day of his graduation from high school in 1975; he and his uncle split $55, ripping a dollar bill in half for the final 50 cents.... Terry still has it. He's been gigging ever since.

Following his parents and five of his 6 siblings to the Keys in 1979, he found his place in the sun as a musician and avid fisherman, working with the Buttonwood Trio, the legendary-if-somewhat-strangely-named Key Lime Pie Band, and solo for the last 10 years on Duval St. The last 2 years he's been working afternoons at Sloppy Joe's with Rebecca Dye, a washboard player worth a column or two herself. If your tastes run towards traditional music played with heart and precision, and great original songs with real Keys roots and flavor, go see 'em soon.

The 2nd annual Key West Songwriter's Fest

6/6/97

As befits the still quirky and rambunctious isle of Key West, this years edition of the Songwriter's Fest was again light on formulaic material and heavy on originality and poetic songs. I was able to capture only a small fraction of the torrent of ideas flooding from the Waterfront Playhouse stage... all I wound up with was a pile of notes on scraps of paper (I am not real organized at this stuff) saying things like: These Wishes are Horses, This Old House Sucks, Dopeheads on Mopeds, On a Bus to St. Cloud, Coast of Marseille, I'm Not Strange I'm just Like You, She Took Everything But The Blame, Half a Mind or Half a Bottle To Go, odes to orgasms and family tragedies, love blooming, love dying, love of airplanes and babies, a million love years away, dimestore love, love of Manatees, Picasso loved through the eyes of a cat... songs about the death of small towns, elderly denizens of little house trailers, the shallowness of what passes for culture, the threat of nuclear warfare, parental abuse, infidelity, drinking, volcanoes, hope for our children and our species... and blazing instrumentals on top of all this.

Director Drew Reid, local sponsors The Hogsbreath, The Green Parrot, The Bull, The Turtle Kraals (as Gretchen put it: the animal bars), ASCAP and BMI... all should be heartily commended for giving us the chance to hear national-level material right from the source, and many of our equally excellent local writers in a concert setting. Partying to the music at the taverns is a blast, but sometimes it's hard to listen deeply. An intimate, sit down concert in a theater with awesome acoustics and a friendly vibe is a great addition to the program. Here's to the upcoming 3rd annual Key West Songwriters Fest!

Kenny Drew Jr.

7/4/97

Even people that know me may wonder why I seem to write about the very small jazz community of Key West disproportionately often. I'm not a jazz player by any means... I play in bands like Bill Blue and the Nervous Guys. I've only bought 1 new CD in my life, and it is definitely not jazz. In fact, the first person to guess the CD gets $20... even I can't believe I bought it. I think the answer lies in the nature of my main line of work, which is studio engineering and producing. There is only a small amount of absolute improvisation in the studio... when the recorder is on, something happens to the musician brain. You become frightfully aware that this is a permanent record of your performance. This tends to inhibit even the most seasoned players. I believe the best stuff never gets recorded... that the real deal is fragile and ephemeral, out there at the gigs where the musicians, the music, and the audience form a greater whole. And even there, only jazz musicians are expected to improvise constantly. Which brings us, finally, to Kenny Drew Jr.

Kenny's last night with Lonnie Jacobson at the Casa Marina felt akin to a church service. You will rarely see a crowd this attentive outside of a concert hall... the reason for this is sitting at the piano, pounding and caressing, warping, and stroking the music into shapes that you had never thought of. Kenny is a dolphin at play, a lion hunting and feasting, a bird in the chorus of dawn... a natural force that, in the words of Joel Nelson, makes you proud to be a human. There really are no good words for this level of musicianship, which is as it should be.

RUMORS

7/17/97

This week, I’m doing the retail thing at Morrell Music while Anita and Liza are on vacation, and it allows me to accomplish two things. I get to work off my tab for the EXTRAORDINARY RED FENDER TELECASTER PLUS that many local guitarists lusted after but which I HAVE ACQUIRED HA HA HA HA HA.... Ahem. The other is that I get to listen to the latest rumors from and about the local music scene.

RUMORO UNO: PLANET HOLLYWOOD and HARD ROCK CAFE are going to feature live entertainment to get a jump on the HOUSE OF BLUES rumored to be coming to that restaurant located across from THE BULL that no local has ever eaten at, worked at, or remembers the name of. **UNTRUE** PH and HRC will continue to offer HOLLYWOOD STARS and MEMORABILIA hawking T-SHIRTS and CORPORATE FOOD, and ROCK STARS and MEMORABILIA hawking T-SHIRTS and CORPORATE FOOD, respectively.

RUMOROUS SECUNDUS: Speaking of BLUES, R.B. TOLAR continues to pack ‘em in at BOSTON BILLY’S HOME OF THE BIG MEATS despite, or maybe because of, singing songs about his PRIVATE PARTS.

WATCH OUT FOR: THE KEY WEST SOUL PARTY is reputed to be the BONFIRE OF THE HUMIDITIES this summer, especially when chanteuse HEATHER joins ROBERT on vocals. TORCH! canary MELODY COOPER is holding a CD release party at the ROOFTOP CAFE 9:30 JULY 25th backed by no less than KENNY DREW Jr. and LONNIE JACOBSON. She is then leaving for the EDINBURGH FRINGE FESTIVAL to showcase TORCH! in it’s first European run. TERRY CASSIDY, DAN MOBLEY, and LONNIE JACOBSON are releasing new albums soon.

IN THE STUDIO: VALERIE RIDENOUR is rumored to have a new project going. TAZ will be mixing her live album soon. And finally, musical tour guides BEN HARRISON, MARJORIE SHOOK, QUINT LANGE, and JOHN WELLS are hard at work.

Double Buchi

9/5/97

By all accounts, fun is the major descriptor of the aptly named group Double Buche. Killer is the next adjective, associated with Carl Wagoner and Chris Cases' dueling guitar frenzies. I found out all about the band the hard way... I was drafted to fill in on bass whilst the regular bassist Tom Pillsy was working his straight job.

Saturday night on Labor Day weekend, I squelched through the Duval St. Swamp and Party Zone down Telegraph Lane to Boston Billy's. 18 years ago I lived in that very building... I went to Sears and bought the loudest fan I could find to drown out the downtown ruckus. You'd need a lot bigger fan now.

I was met by drummer Johnny Ray and Carl, who seemed remarkably unconcerned when I told them I hadn't gigged for over a year, let alone practiced. They started off easy with some Stevey Ray Vaughn Texas blues... Chris was still at the Pier House in his role as mild mannered Calypsonian. Smooth. Funky. This is gonna be great. These guys are as good as rumor had it. Carl is a natural, whipping out frighteningly hot licks and soulful vocals with a happy-to-be-alive-and-playing-music-ardor that infects the rhythm section and the crowd. Johnny is a groove monster that exhibits a trait I've learned to expect in the good drummers; it all looks effortless even when the dbs are maxed. Then Chris shows up.

The chemistry is awesome. Either of these men could be the complete show, but they're willing to set aside ego and work together, creating a rock and blues vortex. We're blasting through the Allman Brothers, old Blues standards, originals, Hendrix, Santana, Stevey, other stuff I had no idea I could play. Sometimes it's rough keeping up, but inspiration and Tylenol keep my fingers moving.

My biased opinion: see this fun, killer band at Boston Billy's, or Barefoot Bob's, or any other place for that matter.

The Key West Soul Party

10/17/97

My first thought as I strolled into the Islander Saturday night is that someone must have briefed the audience: sing Naaaa, na na na naaaa, na na na naa, na na naa, na na naaaah... na na na NAAAAAAAAH with maximum volume and scant attention to pitch, accompanied by hands waving in the air and spastic butt twitching. After a couple songs it's apparent this is the natural reaction to the band and its music... even if you can't dance and sing, you gotta try. The bands' name says it all.

For many years, Conch vocalist Robert Albury has startled and pleased the Key West citizenry by broadcasting his huge golden voice from atop his bicycle seat as he rides around town... the man just can't hold it in. Finally, there's a kick-ass band to support his soul shouting... Marty Stonely on sax and vocals, Din Allen on bass and vocals, Tim McAlpine on Hammond and guitar, and Mike Sweeney cookin' behind the drums deliver pure, driving, and exciting renditions of all those classic '60s soul tunes we know the words to. Stuff like Mustang Sally, Ain't Too Proud to Beg, 6345789, It's a Man's World, Poppa's Got a Brand New Bag, I Feel Good, Gonna Have A Funky Good Time and, of course, Land of 1000 Dances. Yeah. It's a party all right.

As an added bonus, R&B diva Heather Davis joins in when scheduling and venue size allow. The resulting duets are being added to Key West's musical mythology, as in "where you there when the roof blew off the Parrot last Saturday?" Appearing at Sloppy's, the Green Parrot, the Islander, Schooner Wharf, Durty Harry's, and more to come, this moveable party is one you want to go to. Oh, and practice up on your dancing and singing, will ya ;-)

Robert Hutto and Bobby Donaldson

11/13/97

  Our studio, Private Ear, has been cranking out a lot of albums by old friends and new this year, but the all-time speed/ quality winner has to be the sessions with Robert Hutto and Bobby Donaldson which took 12 hours from the first guitar strum to plopping the CD master in for listening. This was a special project... the proceeds from sales of their album "Key West" will be donated to AIDS Help, a truly deserving organization.

My only previous exposure to the group was listening to brief snatches as I hauled broken amps out and new amps in to the Hogsbreath around noon... too early for this soldier to park his musket at the bar. The duo does not deserve cursory listening. Indeed, once you start to listen to Roberts' clear baritone, you find yourself in Huttoland, where common events assume a mythic sheen like the late afternoon sun through a forest, where the pains and hopes of life are poetry recited by a friendly guide who has been there, who's not just repeating hearsay. The metaphor thickets are wild and tangled here, full of references to places and people you don't know, but after a while, you'll find your way through, and it’s a worthwhile journey.

Roberts' precise acoustic guitar centers the group, while Bobby Donaldson's Strat weaves through the stories laughing and moaning, the wind in the eaves, trains in the night, the waterfall next door. He is flat-out one of the top players anywhere in my book, with a passionate and agile style that organically combines modern rock, blues and jazz.

November 19th at 8pm, there’s a benefit/ album release concert at The Waterfront Playhouse, an acoustically superior listening room. Dave Burns and friends will open for Hutto and Donaldson, and again, all proceeds will go to AIDS Help. This will be a good time to hear them and buy the CD.

Key West: A Musical Tour About Town

12/11/97

  Way back in the early '80s, I had my first "real" recording studio in a crumbling building on the Navy base, now occupied by the Truman Annex development. Tied up at the pier down the street was a handsome sailboat built by its inhabitants, Ben and Helen Harrison, who were making the transition to Stateside life cushioned by the Keys' island vibe after living in Latin America for 5 years. Ben became my first customer and a good friend, and through the years, we've recorded innumerable songs. The common thread through all of them has been a keen eye for characters and the art of telling their stories, which he's honed to a sharp and perceptive edge.

Collaborating with fellow musician/songwriter/thespian John Wells, Ben's written a thoroughly native musical ... an aromatic, humid stew of saloons, sailors, and whores, a renegade drug-dealing Fire Chief, a necrophiliac blue blood X-ray technician, the pain and glory of treasure hunting, the quest for affordable housing, the arrest of fighting cocks, jeeps inside of faux trains, and escaping back to the Keys from "the Real World" and sharing its beauty with friends and strangers "drinking water from the moon."

As we all know, Key West's facts and characters far outstrip fiction, and this show presents them with engaging humor, energy, and a high level of musical talent.

Speaking of which, Ben and John are ably joined by extremely vivacious singer/actress Marjorie Paul Shook and singer/percussionist extraordinaire Quint Lange, with Vicki Yaklevich on bass most solid. The combination is truly special... there's an obvious camaraderie and rapport that welcomes you to the colorful past and present of Key West.

The show runs at the Red Barn Nov. 28 through Jan. 3 with an 8:00 curtain. As a special bonus, a freshly recorded CD of all the songs will be on sale.

1/24/98

RST

...stands for Rutledge, Smith, and Tindel, which is not a law firm, but a musical group, now appearing at the Hogsbreath night shift and soon to be at Sloppy’s for the 5-9 festivities. I was talking to Geoffrey, the Rutledge, on their break last night and asked him if he ever thought he’d still be playing material we used to do 15 years ago here in the downtown warzone. He replied that they learn new songs all the time, but what the people really want are the standards like “Brown Eyed Girl”, “Amy”, “Moon Dance”, “Stir It Up”, “Dixie Chicken” et all. Personally, I’d be ready to strangle the 2000th requestee of the standard tunes, but these gents not only perform them with a smile, but I daresay you won’t hear a better version anywhere... the bands soaring 3 part harmonies and strong musicianship render these classics eminently listen-and-danceable. Particularly groovy are their acappella-and-rythym breaks, and a smokin’ “Damn This Traffic Jam” with John, the Tindel, tearing up the keyboards.

Now, the best part of this band to me is that the members are all strong songwriters, and manage to slip in some excellent originals. You’ll hear some _very_ tightly crafted pop and rock as good as anyones’. My pal Joel bribed them with some Scotty’s money in the tip jar to perform an uproarious parody entitled “We’re Not Crosby, Stills, and Nash” done up with uncanny lyric and musical precision. Reputedly, a listener in Australia started laughing so hard he drove off the road. Their originals can be had on one of their many CDs, so you can test drive them yourself.

Joining the trio on this trip is Gary Kehoe, a fine drummer, and our own “Big G” whacking the goatskins, which gives the band a satisfyingly Caribbean groove at times.