Labor Day Weekend Music in Texas

If you are willing to brave the heat this weekend, there's some pretty good events that will feature some awesome Texas music. And if you do decide to go, have fun, look out for one another, and for goodness sake, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE.

Here's a few:

Adam Carillo’s Labor Day at Super C Lake
Dublin, TX (3 day event – Sept 2-4)
Chili Cookoff, Music Festival, and CBR bull riding
Wade Bowen, Casey Donahew Band, Johnny Cooper, Rich O’Toole, Turnpike Troubadours, and others http://superclake.com/LaborDay.html

Armadillo Festival
Sat Sept 3 - Victoria, TX
Roger Creager

3rd Annual Texas BrewBQue
Sun Sept 4 - Buda, TX
Cody Canada and the Departed, Johnny Cooper, Turnpike Troubadors, Bart Crow Band, Aaron Watson, and others
http://www.brewbque.com/

HoodStock: Live at the Rio
Sat Sept 3 – Granbury, TX
Kevin Fowler, Cory Morrow, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Steve Helms, Cody Canada, and others
http://riobrazoslive.com/event/hoodstock

West Fest
Sept 3-4 – West, TX – Polka and Kolache…mmmmm!

Pickin’ for Preemies at Billy Bob’s Texas
Labor Day 5-9 pm
Acoustic show with Cody Canada, Brandon Rhyder, Walt Wilkins, Curtis Grimes, Wade Bowen, Rich O’Toole, Steve Helms, Johnny Cooper and others…plus unannounced special musical guests.
http://www.pickinforpreemies.com/index.php/2011-lineup

Cowboys Dancehall Music Fest
Sept 4 – San Antonio
Eli Young Band, Kevin Fowler, Stoney Larue, Reckless Kelly
http://cowboysdancehall.com/San-Antonio/

Gypsies in the Oven

This Texas heat and drought has seriously put a damper on my "gypsy-ness." We now stand at 7.5 inches of rain for the year in Texas, which is a record low. And it's damn HOT! We are looking forward to a weekend "cold front" that will take us down into the 90's. Here we are at the beginning of September which marks the beginning of dove season, the start of college football, and Labor Day music festivals all over the state. But you know what? I'm not going to participate in any of that. I'm staying inside. It's too hot, and I'm tired of sweating. I seriously can't believe that I plan to just stay in...gypsy in the house. (It actually probably won't happen, but right now I'm telling myself I'm staying put...I know me.)

If you are a praying soul, I would encourage you to ask for rain in Texas and the midwest. The eastern seaboard is getting pummeled with rain, floods, and hurricanes, and we are selling cows at an astounding rate because there's not enough grass to feed them. Wildfires have destroyed millions of dollars of property and livestock. The slightest spark can create the biggest of problems. So...pray.

For further reading: http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2011-09-01/Drought-puts-cattle-ranchers-at-a-crossroads/50230906/1

Cowboy in Crisis

Well he's been threatening...and now he's gone and done it. D.J. decided it would be a good idea to go off and get himself a new car. But not just any car will do for our dear brother. No, he had to run off and buy a new Corvette. Oh dear Lord.....I mean, where the heck is he going to put his saddle. Not to mention the fact that I've never seen a two-horse trailer being pulled by a sports car. And...and...AND...It's a Chevy. (enter the sound of me spitting on the ground)

He drove up to Oklahoma to purchase this new, fiery beast...(enter the sound of tires screeching as I slam on the brakes)....OKLAHOMA! That in and of itself is bad news. He then had the audacity to stay up there a couple of days to visit!!! And he probably drank some of the water, too. I think he's losing his mind. Sorry Oklahoma. No offense. You're just not Texas.

He sent me a text message telling me that he was crossing the Red River back into the great Lone Star State. I told him to pull over and kiss the pure Texas ground, and repent of his wayward actions. He did so....

I want to ask all of you dear friends, to look closely at the above picture, and to join me in praying for Brother D.J., and for his decision...to...wear jean shorts!

Where to Go Next.....?

Living like a gypsy can be a bit of a challenge. Most of the time I wish I wasn't the wandering soul that I am. I wish I was settled. Not restless. I wish I had that thing that makes you want to just stay put. But that's not how I am. I like to go...correction...I have to go. Sitting still makes me nervous. I wouldn't say that I'm hyper, just restless. I don't like that feeling of missing out on something that's going on out there in the world. So I just keep going...and going...and going. Just add a cowboy hat to the Energizer Bunny and that's me...minus the pink...and the drum...and the big ears....

So I want to know...where do I need to go next? What's out there that I'm missing? I want your opinion on great destinations. Not Cabo...not New York...not Paris. Somewhere off the radar. Some place off the map. You know like The Blind Tiger bar in Shreveport, LA (awesome place and you need to visit. www.blindtigerrestaurant.com) or Riverfest in Gadsden, AL (www.gadsdenriverfest.com) or Larry Joe Taylor's music festival in Stephenville, TX (www.larryjoetaylor.com)....you get the point. Something regional but life changing. An awesome experience. Let me know where you've been and why it's great. I want to hear from you. Then let's plan a Gypsy Trip.

Border Gypsy

Well my dear brother Chad Allen (C.A.) turned 40 back in May, so to celebrate I jumped in an airplane and flew down to Laredo, TX. If you've never been to south Texas, well then, you might want to have a good reason to go. I reckon C.A. was reason enough. Don't get me wrong, I love the rugged beauty down that way, but it's definitely a long walk from home...and I don't speak the language.

We did, however, have a great time in true Gypsy fashion (great food, great people, great culture). C.A. gave me the grand tour of the Rio Grande in the Laredo area. We stood on the banks of that river that holds so much history, looked across into Mexico, and held up signs that said, 'Wish You Were Here!' They held up signs too. Theirs read, 'Be There Soon."

We drove past the Mexican Embassy and C.A. told me how he stormed the gates one time with guns drawn...ummm maybe I shouldn't tell that story since it was an act of American aggression on Mexican soil. Maybe he can tell you some day.

But it really was sad to think about how bad the border situation is these days. Wasn't too long ago that you could venture into Mexico and have a great time. Not anymore unfortunately. I wouldn't want to cross that bridge if I was armed to the teeth, and was accompanied by a secret service detail, and a platoon of green berets, who were assisted by Batman. But I did it anyway. And I'll have to tell you THAT story in person as well.

This Ol' Cowboy's Hat part II

So let's talk some more about cowboy hats. It's interesting to note that historically the hat that "won the west" was a derby, and not the modern concept of a cowboy hat. The folks that settled the west wore derbies, sailor's hats, top hats, and remnants of Civil War head gear. The styles we see today are more like the creation of J.B. Stetson in 1865, which was in the early hey day of cowboy life and style. Thank God for Stetson, cause C.A. Patton would look stupid in a derby (I reckon I would too...but not as much). Over the years, many styles of cowboy hat has emerged. In fact, there's so many I don't want to attempt to list them, and you probably don't really care. The bottom line: find the one that's right for YOU.


Can you imagine Chad Patton in one of these?

If you look inside a cowboy hat you will notice a "grade" listed in "X's" that tells you the hat's quality. The number of X's listed will tell you how much of the felt is beaver fur and how much is rabbit fur (grading goes from 4X to 100X). Bet you didn't know that did you? So for instance a hat that has 20 X's has 75% beaver and 25% rabbit. A hat with 100 X's is...you guessed it...100% beaver, and usually too expensive to be on my head. Now if you're really paying attention you'll notice that straw hats have an X grading system too. The X's in a straw tell you the quality of the straw and the tightness of the weave. In general, I recommend that you never mess with a hat that has less than 20 X's. Why, you say? Because anything less sucks. Trust me and that's all the reason you need.


If it's good enough for Dutch Reagan...

Now once you've invested in your fine new piece of head apparel, let me give you some etiquette. Whenever you enter a room, take off your hat. If it's a formal occasion (church, wedding, funeral, etc.) leave it off. If informal, it's ok to put it back on. When you sit down at a table to eat, take it off for the duration of the meal, unless there's nowhere you can put it. When sitting at a counter to eat, it can remain on. If you're out on the trail and it's time to eat, leave it on. Otherwise it's going to get stepped on or pooped on by your horse. It's highly recommended that you take it off when you meet and/or greet a lady...and at least tip your hat when saying hello to her (if you're wearing a fur hat tip from the crown, and if you're wearing a straw tip from the brim). If she ain't a lady, leave your damn hat on.

The tipping of the hat is a great custom. Even when greeting men it's a good idea. Tipping your hat got its origins in the Old West as you would move your hand away from your holster and gun when saying hello. It was a message of friendship between strangers. And I think it's still classy. But the bottom line is this: Don't ever grab for another man's hat. You'll most likely get the holster.

This Ol' Cowboy's Hat

Well I was sittin' in a coffee shop, just havin' a cup to pass the time.
Swappin' rodeo stories with this ole cowboy friend of mine.
When some motorcycle riders started snickerin' in the back
started pokin' fun at my friend's hat.
One ole boy said hey Tex, where'd you park your horse.
My friend just pulled his hat down low, but they couldn't be ingnored.
One husky fellow said, I think I'll rip that hat right off your head.
That's when my friend turned around, and this is what he said.....
You'll ride a black tornado, cross't the western sky
Rope an ole blue norther and milk it till it's dry
Bull dawg the Mississippi, pin it's ears down flat...
Long before you take this cowboy's hat....
- Chris Ledoux

I love cowboy hats. I don't have a lot of hair anymore, so they've definitely become quite useful in hiding my shiny head from the elements. But in truth, I just wear em because I like em. I think I currently have about a dozen. It may be an obsession. I have work hats, river hats, going-out hats, and hats that just hang on the wall now because they've been retired. Some are felt, some are straw, and some are palm leaf....each having its own use and season.

I wear my hat everywhere I travel. I love the attention it brings in cities where people have only seen such a strange creation on television and movies. They look at you like you're from outer space (when really I just came from Texas...not a huge difference...both are big with a lot of empty space). Inevitably some guys will snicker and laugh and I've learned to just laugh with em. I was in Tennessee recently when I walked up to a bar to find four college boys whispering and giggling, pointing at my hat. I smiled at em and walked on, until one of the brave young souls in pastel tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Nice hat, where's your horse?" He was a head shorter than me so I looked down at him and said, "You know the difference between you and me?" He said, "What's that Hoss?" I smiled at him and said, "Couple of things. First, I have manners. Second, I can always take this hat off, but you'll always be short." Then I bought him a beer and we made nice.

But in most cases people are nice. In Atlanta, I was complimented for being myself. In Chicago, I was told I was brave for wearing "that thing" around here. In New York, well....yeah. Most of the time women want to know if they can wear it to pose for a picture with their friends. Sure, but be warned...my hats will swallow the average head. I wear a 7 5/8 which is HUGE.




The one in the picture above has been shaped and reshaped and reshaped...one of the glories of a palm leaf hat. It now looks like crap...but it's great for being out on the water.

Now that I've convinced you to wear one yourself, here's some tips: Hats are an extension of your face. Make sure you pick the right shape, crown, bend, and color. Buy one from someone who knows something about hats. If you live in north Texas then you need to go to Huskey Hat Co in Wichita Falls. They've been doing hats for 40 years. Their custom made felt hats (I have one) are like wearing a diaper made of cotton candy. And you know you like cotton candy.

We will talk more about hats...SOON.

Gypsy Rules

Well it’s been one year since the current concept of Cowboy Gypsy was birthed into my mind. It happened in New York City, and was then confirmed in Raleigh, NC. I was in NYC wearing cowboy boots thinking to my self, “What would it be like if you could take a couple of real rodeo cowboys, and drop them into various urban settings? How would they react? More importantly, how would people react to them?”

In my mind, that’s the stuff of reality television. In fact, I still think it’s a great idea.

At some point I need to take the time to tell you about that trip to New York. There are actually a lot of trips you need to hear about. But I’ve realized I’m a bad blogger. I’m too busy taking trips. My friends often ask when and where is the next adventure. That’s the exciting aspect of being a gypsy…you never know. There’s not a lot of planning. You just have to see where the wind blows and follow it. In fact, a lot of folks have asked me what a “Gypsy Trip” is.

Well there are a couple of rules (Yes! Even gypsies have rules):

First, it can’t be expensive. There are no five star hotels involved…or four…and rarely three. Unless Chad Allen is involved…then it has to be at least three. He’s gotten accustomed to a comfortable bunk. But the most obvious reason that it has to be inexpensive is that I don’t have a lot of money. But I’ve learned a few tricks. This is one aspect that truly makes it adventurous. I’ve stayed in some places that have made people question my sanity. But hey….it leaves more money for other important things.

Secondly, it can’t be overly planned out. You’ve got to leave room for your spirit to breathe. What little plans there are must be changeable and not sacred to the traveler. The best times I’ve had have been the ones that took me by surprise. Like the 36 hour layover due to a cancelled flight in New York. If it hadn’t been for that extended time in the city the Cowboy Gypsy concept might never have been birthed. Most people would’ve been upset that a flight was cancelled, angry that they had to miss a day of work (sooooo NOT my problem), or frustrated because they hadn’t “planned” on it. Instead, I rode into Midtown Manhattan, found a hotel (with a slightly higher star rating than I usually frequent), then decided to see everything I could in the city over the next 24 hours. I saw a lot. I met a lot of people who spoke with strange tongues. I explained what “Y’all” meant more than once. I made some friends. And most importantly I learned things I never would’ve otherwise. Now that’s what I call living.

Third, there needs to be a pursuit of knowledge (people, places, things). What does that mean? You HAVE to meet new people. There’s an art to that. If you have a problem doing so then you need to take a trip soon with Chad Allen, DJ, and myself. You’ll learn from the best. We’ve met tons of good folks and visited some great places. Sometimes that can be an adventure all in it self. Just like when the guy from Chicago tried to pull Chad’s cowboy hat off his head in a crowded bar and Chad almost kicked his ass, but then we almost got OUR asses kicked by twenty-two of his friends (yes, I counted. I kinda figured it was gonna be the last thing I ever did in life, and I couldn’t think of anything more meaningful to do in that moment). Long story, but by the end of the night we were all buddies, which is a lot better than death.

Crazy American Cowboys

Setting: D.J., Chad Allen, and myself are sitting at the counter in a diner/bar/bait-shop wearing cowboy hats, jeans, and boots (normal attire). D.J. is approached by a cautious, enquiring, skinny fellow wearing a t-shirt that's spouting something about love and peace and pants that don't quite get all the way down to his ankles.

Man: Pardon me (spoken in a French accent).
D.J.: Howdy (spoken in Texas drawl. Please note that Texans have a drawl, while foreigners have an accent)!

Man: Are you a cowboy?
D.J.: Yessir! We are rodeo cowboys. I'm a header, he's a heeler, and down there is my horse doctor.

Man: What does this mean, "header...heeler?"
D.J.: Don't you worry about that none. Where you from boy?

Man: I am from Paris, France!!
D.J.: Paris, huh?!? Over there y'all say "bonjour," right? (pronounces it BONE-jore)

Man: Yes. Yes. We say "bonjour." (pronounces it bon-zshur)
D.J.: Exactly. Bonjour (BONE-jore). Well here we say "HOWDY!" (pronounced HOW-dee) Can you say "Howdy?'

Man: Howdy! (pronounced how-DEE)
D.J.: Naw, fella. Say "Howdy!" (pronounced HOW-dee).

Man: Howdy! (how-DEE)
D.J.: HOWdy!
Man: howDEE!

D.J.: (Shakes his head) Where did you say you were from again? Paris, France? Hmmm. You ever heard of Paris, Texas???

Man turns around and walks off.

.......................

Gypsy Covered in Red Dirt

Well I’m sitting here listening to Roger Creager on my iPod. Not a rare occurrence. And it’s got me thinking about Red Dirt Music, a sound that found its way into my soul several years ago, and I’ve never been the same since. I’ve tried numerous times to describe this genre of music to my friends that are foreign to Texas and Oklahoma, but I’ve come to the conclusion that Red Dirt can’t be described. It must be experienced.

Red Dirt Music gets its name from the color of the soil that’s found in Oklahoma, particularly around Stillwater, OK, the place where the genre got its start. There was an old two story, five-bedroom house called The Farm, where musicians would gather to play in the living room, on the front porch, in the garage (which they named the Gypsy Cafe - you gotta love that), and around camp fires in the yard. Pretty soon a sound emerged that has been described as “west of Nashville, and north of Austin” (please check out www.reddirtmusic.wetpaint.com).

If I were to try to define the sounds of Red Dirt Music I would have to point you in the direction of southern rock, western swing, folk, and country all mixed together. Perhaps you could call it “alternative country.“ Some have called it country music with an attitude. And although there used to be some distinction between Oklahoma Red Dirt music and Texas Red Dirt music, the differentiation has diminished in the last few years. Oklahoma finding it’s roots in Bob Childers, and Texas in Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, merging to find its identity today in the likes of Robert Earl Keen, Stoney LaRue, Cross Canadian Ragweed, Randy Rogers, Pat Green, Charlie Robison, Bleu Edmondson, etc., etc., etc. To me, the music is real, raw, expressive, truthful, rhythmic, soulful. Someone described it by saying, “The music is as much a state of mind as it is a sound. It's rowdy, blue-collar rock and part country.”

Every song tells a story that you can relate to, and I definitely encourage any doubters to download and sample Ragweed’s “Sick and Tired,” or one of my new favorites by Josh Abbott, “Taste.” You should spend a little time online at WWW.949THEOUTLAW.COM and stream their broadcast. You won’t be disappointed. I would also refer you to WWW.TEXASMUSICCHART.COM which is a great reference if you’re ready to start or add to your Red Dirt collection.

Motivated by the music, this week I’ll be taking the first “Gypsy Trip” of the year. Thursday I‘ll enjoy the music of Aaron Watson in Wichita Falls, TX and then head on down to San Antone Friday for one of my musical heroes, Roger Creager. Saturday we‘ll be at historic Gruene Hall in New Braunfels, TX for the music of Mr. Max Stallings. Y’all should come along. It’s going to be fun. Until then, I’ll be on the road….

- Gypsy

My Gypsy Home

I am a Texan. Yeah I know that I’m originally from Georgia, and proud enough to admit it. But I’m a Texan. And Texas is home

Somewhere in the good Lord’s infinite grace and guidance He has seen fit with Divine wisdom to allow this undeserving cowboy to mercifully migrate back to the Great State after a short hiatus, and I hope that He‘ll never lead me to leave again. There is no place on earth where I can breathe deeper, feel stronger, and walk taller than under the shadow of a Lone Star flag. It is truly a mystery. As you all know, I’m not originally from Texas (unless you count conception, since my folks did something dastardly in Dallas County some thirty-eight years ago then skidaddled to Georgia), but I consider myself a Texan. And recently I’ve been spending a little time thinking about what that means. I hear folks from time to time refer to being a Texan, but I’m not sure they are simply trying to describe where they live. No, I truly believe that to be a Texan is something more.

You see, to be a Texan is ALWAYS more. You’ve heard it said that everything is bigger in Texas, and there may be some truth to that, but there’s definitely MORE to Texas than most folks realize. I’ve been all over this planet and met many, many folks. But I can safely say that in Texas there is more hospitality, more pride, more independence, more optimism, more hope, and more excitement than any place I’ve ever been.

I traveled to Texas a few times as a child, but it wasn’t until I stood under this canopy of big sky as a young man that I new in an instant where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I stood in a field in Waxahatchie, Texas, and I knew. I’d never seen such an umbrella of overhead blue that curved to meet the bluebonnets that were in full bloom. In that instant I fell in love. Not with a place, but with a spirit. It was a spirit of freedom, and since that day I’ve only found that spirit in Texas.

So for 2011, my resolution is to limit my Gypsy Trips to Texas. I want to see and experience it all. From the Amarillo Panhandle to the Corpus Coast, from the Pines of Texarkana to the Sands of El Paso. As always, you’re welcome to join me. My faithful band of cowboy brothers D.J., Chad Allen, and the Captain will be along for the ride, I'm certain. And yes, I’ll be more faithful this year in keeping you updated with the trips and adventures. But until then, I'll be on the road....

- Gypsy