What happened? Garver is closer to home so it has at least one advantage. But all the sessions got squeezed into a few days in June as opposed to being spread out across the summer.
September started on a musical note. Or rather, many musical notes. A concert series runs during the summer months down at one of Madison’s newer parks, McPike, which is smack dab in the middle of the isthmus. This was to be the last concert of the season and would feature The Cash Box Kings, whom I last saw back in June, and Lost Bayou Ramblers, a Louisiana band that plays Cajun music, sometimes as if the bayou was on Saturn, with the spirit of Jimi Hendrix.
But first I wanted to grab some more photographs of mundane Madison. My task was to get more pictures of buildings with their names (usually set in stone) over the entryway. Like this one:
I believe that Ann Emery Hall is apartments today but was originally built back in the 1930s as an all-women’s dorm. What do you call those things around the doorway? Reliefs? They had some very nice detail.
Is this a Torah?
I used to work at this place.
For a while, I was incredulous at the notion that it was simply and unimaginatively called “State Office Building” but that appears to be its official nom de boring. The interior is really nice and I believe you can still mail a letter by dropping it down the mail chute, even from the upper floors. However, when I worked there, I’d occasionally hear about a letter getting stuck in the chute.
A bit of trivia. When I worked there, I would sometimes have to mail computer equipment for warranty replacement, such as a dead laptop battery. Most of the time I dealt with a really mild-mannered guy in the mail room named Jon. One day someone told me that Jon (French) was a drummer and that he’d played with various luminaries such as Curtis Mayfield back in the day. Well, I just had to know if this was true and so I marched down the hall to the mail room one day to ask him about this rumor. Well, turns out what I'd heard was true as Jon confirmed that he had played with Curtis Mayfield, et al. In fact, I believe you can hear French’s work on the Super Fly soundtrack. Jon was so humble about it – almost to the point of being blasé – while I was standing there with my mouth agog, he was rattling off the list of sessions he played on as if he were telling me what he ate for breakfast.
This in addition to Clyde Stubblefield, James Brown’s long time drummer, who moved to Madison in 1971. Very odd how these great R&B drummers ended up here in Madison.
In addition to building names, I’ve been photographing addresses with halvsies like this one:
That belongs to an entrance at the back of a bakery, hence the spoon.
Evening arrived and I was off to McPike Park for the music. I locked up my bike before grabbing a beer as The Cash Box Kings hit the stage.
Singer Oscar Wilson hails from Chicago – 43rd and Wells, I believe – while the other singer (and harmonica player), Joe Nosek, is a Madisonian who grew up in suburban Chicago. The second guitarist, whose name I cannot recall was a gentleman from Japan. I found this odd as, the last time I saw them perform, the guest piano player was a woman from Japan. You just never know who'll show up with The Cash Box Kings, I guess.
Their drummer at this gig was Kenny “Beady Eyes” Smith, also hailing from Chicago. I know this is going to sound dorky but that guy has great cymbal work. Just the way he moved from high-hat to ride cymbal and back. What a groove!
The weather was great, the beer was great, and The Cash Box Kings were great. There were smiles everywhere and they sounded like they were having fun. And the music was the kind to get your booty shakin'.
After a brief interval, Lost Bayou Ramblers took the stage. I heard them for the first time last September on an episode of Accordion Noir, a radio show out of Vancouver dedicated to the titular instrument. I immediately took to the live version of “Pine Grove Blues” featured on that program. It was Cajun music but heavier, fuzzier, and grittier. Think about how the acoustic Delta blues got electrified when musicians moved to Chicago and that'll give you an idea.
Brothers Louis and Andre lead the band on fiddle and accordion, respectively. I was right up front and could see that Louis had a big grin on his face when he wasn’t singing – mostly in French.
Andre had an array of effects pedals which allowed him to cull some non-traditional, shall we say, sounds out of his accordion.
Lots of people were dancing and I think the band picked up on that. Their set was an energetic mix of Cajun music played with a nod to the traditional, at times, and others when they went their own way.
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One morning I woke up in the middle of the antelucan hours and began my trek to the bathroom. Turning the corner into the kitchen, I saw in the dim glow from the street light two cat-like forms squatting in front of the stove and staring at it.
We had a mouse.
“This can wait till later,” I decided and continued on to the bathroom and back to bed.
When I got up to begin my day, Piper was still eyeing up the stove while Grabby was over by the food dishes with an anxious look in her eyes. Grabby is 15 or so and I suspect that, after sitting in front of the stove for a while in the dark, she felt like Danny Glover's character in Lethal Weapon and thought to herself, "I'm too old for this shit." I grabbed a pair of work gloves that I keep handy for these occasions and made coffee while keeping an eye on Piper.
With the coffeemaker doing is job, I turned to see her head emerge out from behind a garbage can with the little critter in her maw. It was a rather large mouse and Piper victoriously strutted into the dining room with her head proudly held high for all (i.e. - me and Grabby) to see. Suddenly the mouse jumped nearly a foot in the air and ran behind the cookbook shelf, eluding her embarrassed captor. Oops!
Piper poked around underneath as Grabby looked on with renewed interest but to no avail. I took a peek behind the shelf and saw the mouse hanging onto the back of it for dear life like some kind of rodent Harold Lloyd. My desire for coffee was growing so I grabbed a broom and poked at the woebegone little creature. It ran into the kitchen with Piper close behind.
I zipped around the counter only to see Grabby standing there perfectly still with the mouse in her mouth. The whole scene reminded me of the ending of The Blair Witch Project. She may be an old lady cat but she’s still dexterous enough to snag a mouse when the mood strikes her.
I had the work gloves on at this point and I retrieved the poor mouse from the Maws of Death and took it outside where I let it loose. It hasn’t been seen since.
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Many an entry ago I mentioned that my Frau and I went out for dinner at a Thai place called Ahan. I ordered the tom yum soup with chicken on that visit and discovered that the fowl been breaded and fried before being dedicated to the broth. While not terrible by any means, I was ambivalent about the saturated breading and made a MacArthur-like vow to return and have the tom yum with tofu. Well, the next time finally came and I made good on my pledge.
It was excellent as the tofu had been fried so it was crispy on the outside yet moist (but firm) inside. I love how they garnish the soup with bits of crispy garlic. The Frau ordered dumplings and lemongrass chicken spring rolls. Those were quite delicious as well.
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David Lynch’s Lost Highway is back in theaters with a new 4K digital print and I availed myself of the opportunity to see it earlier this month.
I think it’s considered a minor work in his film career but I love it. While not a horror movie, it really spooks me. I really love Lynch because his movies are so uncanny and the first act of Lost Highway is a masterclass in creating unease. The gentleman who introduced the film said that it was going to be shown at Lynch’s preferred volume levels which was neat because he constructs some potent soundscapes that go a long way in unsettling the viewer.
The movie’s first act is just blatantly disturbing and scary. With the volume turned up, all of the low hums and eerie ambient sounds were readily audible and they really heightened the mood. Plus the dialogue is often spoken with distinct pauses and doesn’t have the natural flow of conversation in real life. Add in the occasional jump scare and you have a truly bizarre experience.
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Bonus photo. Here’s another clipping from one of the Milwaukee dailies back in the day when The Birth of a Nation was a new release.
Last autumn I described a venture that my Frau and I took out to Lapacek’s Orchard. With a back seat full of apples, doughnuts, et al we were cruising home down Highway 51 when I noticed one of those brown tourist/point of interest signs on the side of the road. It noted a wild life viewing area somewhere to the west. I made a mental note of this and vowed to check it out one day. Well, that day came earlier this month.
Early one morning I drove out there and followed the sign. It wasn't long before I found myself at the Lapinski-Kitze Prairie. I parked in the smallish clearing at the trailhead and was greeted by the above statue. Signs told the story of how the site had been farmed for decades with the crops having been processed at a cannery in the nearby town. A few years after the cannery closed, the Madison Audubon Society bought the property and began restoring its native prairie. It’s now a sanctuary for several kinds of birds and has trails for those who like to watch our feathered friends. I neglected to bring my binoculars and do not have a particularly long lens for my camera so I was going to be limited in my birdwatching activities. Still, I headed down the trail.
Walking along the edge of a corn field, I scared up what I think was a pheasant but it flew away quickly so I am not sure. Not only was the bird scared, I was too. It was so quiet and peaceful then suddenly it took off about 10 feet in front of me. Continuing up the path I became lost in thought once more as I enjoyed the calm and solitude. Then a squawk startled me back into the world of the mundane as a pair of turkeys, a tom and a hen, took off out of the tall grass and flew away. That primitive part of my brain simply saw big creatures emerge from hiding and I had that fight or flight response going for a second.
While I saw a variety of smaller birds, the only ones I could identify were the red-winged blackbirds which were everywhere.
There were 2 or 3 instances during my walk in which one of them would be perched on a tree or cattail and then fly towards me. It would hover for a few seconds above my head before returning to its perch. After a brief rest, it would repeat the maneuver. At one point there was a whole flock of them circling overhead and I felt a bit like Tippi Hedren in The Birds.
Although I made several attempts to catch one of these guys in flight, only a few of the photos were any good.
I really need to get a nicer telephoto lens because the birds love to congregate off in the fields amongst the flowers.
Next time I shall bring my binoculars to get a better view of all the avian activity that I missed.
I later learned that just south of the prairie is the Audubon’s Goose Pond Sanctuary – you’d have thought that driving on Goose Pond Road would have given that away. So I missed the big pond and the observation area which includes a telescope to check out the water fowl. It’s now on my to-do list.
It was still morning when I left the prairie so I had time for another venture. Over the winter I heard about a county park just a few miles east of town - McCarthy Youth & Conservation County Park. As the name implies, it is a place where kids come to learn about nature through various programs. There are also equestrian trails, hiking trails, and whatnot. As with the wildlife viewing area, I put a visit to the park on my to-do list and I was excited to be able to finally check it out.
I parked and started walking to the trailhead. The wildlife greeted me immediately as I noticed a ground squirrel not too far away that was looking around, perhaps assessing how dangerous this human intruder was.
The trail began on the east side of the park and ran alongside a farm for a stretch. A group of cows were out in the field relaxing under a tree as a pair of sandhill cranes looked on at a safe distance when not pecking on the ground for breakfast.
The park features gentle hills so my walk was a fairly easy one. The sun shone brightly from the cloudless sky and it got distinctly warmer but it never became terribly hot. It seemed like every time I found an interesting plant and went in for a closer look, there were insects doing, er, it.
At one point I was at a crossroads. I could either take the trail around the wooded area or go through the woods. “Shade sounds nice,” I thought to myself and so I entered the woods.
While it was indeed noticeably cooler, I barely made it out alive as the mosquitos were in full force. I can’t complain too much as this was the first time all year that I’d encountered a swarm of them instead of just 1 or 2 stray bloodsuckers.
I emerged from the woods a half pint of blood lighter but was back on an open, sunny, and mosquito-free path. At one point I ran into some wild grapes.
What a gem of a park! The hiking is easy-going and I didn’t have to dodge too much horse poop. Most of the park is far enough away from the road that you don’t hear any cars and an all-too small section runs along the Koshkonong Creek. There’s a nice picnic area up in the woods too. Well, nice if you have some deet. I look forward to returning.
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Despite having played Dungeons & Dragons for 30+ years now, I have never been a fan of fantasy literature. While I’ve tried at various time to find something in the genre that interested me, I have never succeeded. Granted, I did read Lord of the Rings earlier this year but it’s like a founding text for nerds so I was obligated to get that under my belt. Well, I went ahead and tried another fantasy novel recently: The Iron Dragon’s Daughter by Michael Swanwick.
I think I heard of it a few years ago in an article that described it as not being your typical fantasy novel and figured it might appeal to me. It definitely was not your typical fantasy novel.
It takes place in a fantastical version of the 1990s, it seems, and begins on a Dickensian note. We meet Jane, a girl stuck laboring within the dark, satanic walls of a mechanical dragon factory. Jane eventually escapes and she becomes a vaguely Holden Caulfield type of character who is a bit aloof and full of sardonic quips. She is alienated in various ways and is working through your typical teenage issues of angst, finding one’s place, and so on.
To be sure, The Iron Dragon’s Daughter is not your typical fantasy novel but I didn’t find it particularly engaging or interesting. Maybe I am just too old for stories chronicling the adventures of a sassy teenager.
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I’ve been to a few concerts lately. I attended my first show at the new Red Rooster on Madison’s southeast side, where The Cash Box Kings, a blues band with members from Chicago and Madison, were playing.
They play Chicago blues – think Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf – along with some old school rock’n’roll and R&B. The band is fronted by singer Oscar Wilson who hails from Chicago’s south side while singer/harmonica player Joe Nosek is a Madisonian. I appreciate how the music has that 1940s/50s feel yet the lyrics address contemporary issues. Wilson bemoans the illegal downloading of his music (and thusly depriving him of income) in “Download Blues”. “Gotta Move Out to the Suburbs” is a lament for his beloved south side neighborhoods that are being gentrified.
The Red Rooster is a nice live music bar that is tucked into an otherwise industrial area. It was formerly the Knuckledown Saloon but has been remodeled and features fine beer, food, and music.
A couple weeks after that I was off to Milwaukee with some friends to see Blue Öyster Cult at Summerfest.
They’ve been around since 1970 or thereabouts so we probably didn’t have many chances to see them perform if we missed this show and so off we went. One of my friends got us free admission and free parking which was bonus.
I thought the show was a blast and sang along to the entirety of “Godzilla”.
With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound
He pulls the spitting high tension wires down
Helpless people on a subway train
Scream bug-eyed as he looks in on them
Both the band and the audience seemed to be having a good time with smiles all around.
Most recently I went down to the La Fête de Marquette here in Madison to see the North Mississippi Allstars. The band hails from Hernando, Mississippi and plays blues/blues rock. The festival is supposed to be a celebration of all things French, including the French diaspora, so I don’t understand why they performed but I cannot complain. Perhaps the focus of the festival has changed without me noticing.
Whatever the case may be, the show was rockin’ and I had a blast. They’re a bit like the Allman Brothers but with more boogie. This was my first time seeing them although I’ve been a fan for almost 20 years now.
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Bonus photo. Here’s one of Grabby in the cat tree giving the gimlet eye to the humans.
My first encounter with The Cash Box Kings was on 7 September 2007 at the King Club. It was a bit of an odd bill that night - kind of like when Jimi Hendrix opened for The Monkees. Also playing were The Treats, a hard rock band in the classic 70s mold, and The Selfish Gene that I recall as having an ELO vibe. The Cash Box Kings opened that night and their traditional take on Chicago blues was out of place.
I felt that those 4 white guys were a reasonable facsimile of the genre though not particularly memorable.
It seems I was wrong because I did remember them as evidenced by my presence at the shiny new Red Rooster here in Madison back in June when The Cash Box Kings played there on a Thursday night. I think the only holdover from that 2007 show was singer/harmonica player Joe Nosek. At centerstage was Oscar Wilson, a black gentleman from Chicago's south side who does a lot to give the band a genuine Chicago blues feel. How Nosek, a white guy from Madison, WI teamed up with Wilson is beyond me. But I am very glad he did.
The band are now signed to legendary Chicago blues label Alligator Records and garner praise and awards for their mix of Chicago blues, R&B, Delta blues, rockabilly, and whatever else they feel like throwing into the mix. Their show at the Red Rooster was a real joy as they cranked out genuine houserockin' music.
As a Chicago ex-pat, I appreciate the band's contemporary takes on my hometown which range from playful ("Joe, You Ain't From Chicago") to the serious ("Blues for Chi-Raq"). As a music fan, I just love their grooves and Nosek's ubiquitous and tasty harp licks.
"Gotta Move Out To The Suburbs" is on their 2015 album Holding Court. Nosek's harp is right up front as it weaves around Barrelhouse Chuck's organ flourishes and Billy Flynn's guitar. Underneath everything is a fairly uptempo groove by bassist Beau Sample and drummer Mark Haines. I love the snare sound here with its great wooden pop. Atop all this Wilson laments the gentrification of some of Chicago's south side neighborhoods.
Hearing the song for the first time, I was immediately reminded of a trip that my Frau and I took several years ago to Chicago. Since we were in the area, I drove us to Maxwell Street to see what the neighborhood that hosted the famous market looked like since I hadn't been there since the mid-80s. The University of Illinois at Chicago had acquired a lot of land there and so a lot of development had occurred in the intervening years. It was a wholly different place than the one I remembered.
I suppose it's also commentary on the larger migration of black people out of Chicago. Many leave Illinois altogether but others simply, as in the song, head for the 'burbs.
"Gotta Move Out To The Suburbs" is a textbook example of the band's ability to seamlessly merge old school blues with lyrics are contemporary and relevant.
With all the hoopla surrounding the SoCo Music Experience and Snake on the Lake music festivals yesterday, that the King Club was the place to be Friday night seems to have gotten lost. It was the CD release party for The Treats and their new album Reservoir Tales. I arrived around 8:30 to meet my friend Charles only to find bassist Tim Payne and guitarist Andy Isham outside. Seeing them, I reiterated to them my desire to hear "Eve's Playground" and introduced myself. It was Don Isham that had sent me a copy of their album but they recognized Up the Downstair. They were both extremely friendly. We went to grab a cup of pre-gig coffee down the street, chatting all the while. It wasn't long after returning to the King Club that Charles showed up as well as Don. Tim talked up his Standing Water Recording Studio which is his basement. He'd found a mixing desk cheap which was used on Oprah's television show. If that isn't a great endorsement, I don't know what is. We talked some more and I threatened to flash my tits before heading in for some beer.
Stepping in, we found the place nearly empty. No biggie as the night was young. We grabbed a couple beers and found a place to sit and chat as the gear was set up. I cannot honestly say I've been there as the King Club. I remember it well as The Chamber, however. The place hadn't really changed that much. Memories flooded back of being threatened by an angry mob of women at a Pachinko show as well as seeing Tempest there with an ex-girlfriend hoping all the while she'd take me back. (It never happened.) Along with The Treats were Cash Box Kings and The Selfish Gene.
By the time Cash Box Kings got things started, the place had filled up quite a bit. I'm ambivalent about them, to be honest. I give them credit for keeping alive the electric blues of the 1950s and 60s and think Travis Koopman's work on guitar is wonderful, especially his tasteful slide work. But the music needs more swing and to be a bit more gritty. And there were a couple tunes where singer Joe Nosek affected an old bluesman voice that was just over the top to me and unneeded. He's a good harp player and there's no reason to try and sing like he's from the South side of Chicago when he's not because the whole thing descends from tribute to parody.
The Treats, curiously enough, came on second. They took the stage to a packed house with lots of folks standing near the front. Honestly, I figured they'd draw a crowd with more tattoos. Instead there were a lot of collared shirts and women wearing dresses. (Luckily a couple of the female fans with callipygian figures were right in front of me.) I guess that just goes to show what I know. Despite not having gigged in a while, they shook off their rust quickly and delivered a great, if all-too short, set. By "great" I mean they were just incredibly awesome. I had never seen them previously and didn't know exactly what to expect. They did a healthy dose of tunes from Reservoir Tales with unrestrained energy. The band was nice'n'loud and the songs gained some maniacal muscle in the live context.
"Eve's Playground" came second or third and was dedicated to your humble narrator. It was incredible. Andy Isham is playing one of the catchiest riffs ever and pleading "I try and I try" with just the right amount of menace while his brother Don flails away, going from ride to crash cymbal as if he barely could decide what to hit.
"Cuchillo" is another favorite of mine from their new album. The acoustic part of the studio version was electrified and, just as Andy finishes screaming "cuerta tu!" for the third time, Payne's bass urgently takes over. The band then launch into a short jam which is the closest thing you'll ever hear to The Who in their live prime. Listen to it and tell me that wouldn't have fit on Live at Leeds like a glove. In fact, most of the show had that same vibe. Just as with The Who, The Treats' songs were gritter live – faster and more raw.
"Blind and Undying" slowed things down for a moment and it came off well with some great harmony vocals. Other highlights were "Not Enough" with its slow bluesy riff which became total pandemonium by the end and "I've Got Your Number" with its 70s hard rock vibe. "Ever Been Down" had me screaming "When I get up!" along with Isham and closed with another fantastic bit of ear-splitting splendor.
The show was recorded and I am hoping against hope that I can get my hands on a copy.
The Selfish Gene had the unenviable task of trying to follow all that up. Still, they put on a short but great performance. Why most of the audience left before they started is beyond me and this is a crying shame. Songs like "Overboard" and the Beatles-esque "Autopilot" gained some muscle live but the harmony vocals were as strong, if not more so, than on The Grand Masquerade. Bassist Eric Andraska's hyperkinetics were infectious and his playing on "Bad About It" was wonderfully melodic. Some folks idolize guitarists but I've always been a fan of drummers and I have to say that I was really impressed with Mark Marsh that night. His playing was superb with deftly placed cymbal crashes and tasty fills. The band played a new song called "State of Nature", methinks, and it was quite good.
If you go to The Selfish Gene's webpage, you'll see that they've gotten a modicum of national press. Hopefully they found more fans at the SoCo festival where they played yesterday. Tim Payne told me that The Treats have a hard time filling the High Noon which is ridiculous. Are their lyrics not self-consciously ironic enough? I am hoping that they just need to gig more and that they can correct this in the coming months.
