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.
.......................
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
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
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
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)