We eased out of Austin around nine this morning. Freeway access was easy, traffic light, and very soon we were rolling up and down the Hill Country, our favorite part of Texas. As soon as we got set up in the Fredericksburg RV park, we beat feet out to Luchenbach for the Saturday "pickin" circle. If you've never been to Luchenbach, it's at the very least hospitable, very definitely spiritual, and at its outer limits, magical. The "pickin" circle is a "never know who's coming" gaggle of musicians who take turns singing songs. It's outside acoustic, no amplification. There's a reverence for the music. Voices are kept low, and the only insults to the music are occasional crows from roosters (Who think they own the place), the guttural roar of Harleys getting away, and the never ending clink of beer bottles being chunked into the garbage cans that are spread like dry wells around the property. Today, the leaders of the circle were a couple who call themselves Pistol Creek. Along side them was a Mexican-Texican looking guy who played the accordian and sang lonesome songs about his late wife, a young hopeful from Loredo who sang funny songs about over consumption, a guy whose skill on the guitar belied his claim that he toured with Willie Nelson as his cook (He was my favorite), another local couple who call themselves SheAnnie, and a very quiet, but exceptional guitar player who played Neil Young songs, Dylan songs, and a batch of his own songs that sounded like they were inspired by both Neil and Bob. Coming late were a couple of young girl singers. I didn't catch their names, but they both did original material. We sat enthralled by the music, surrounded by other music lovers, and warmed by the perfect 70 degree weather. Besides the music, a Cowboy poet named Walt Perriman took took the stage twice. His poetry, "iambic cowboy", expounded humorous, but thoughtful tales of Cowboy culture. He said he learned a trade working the Texas oil fields, went over to Saudi Arabia and made enough money to fill a wheel barrow, came back to Texas, bought a ranch, got married, got divorced, lost the ranch, lost the money, but he's still got the wheelbarrow (Tire's flat). Other lyrics that stuck with me today: "I haven't had time to drink my talent"; "Speak the truth because who are you lying to"; "So it all comes down to that moment you thought you were up, but it really now seems like drinking from the same old cup". It seems country songs concern themselves with drinking or lost love, but there's always reason to hope for a better day. I can tell you the current lyrics we're singing: "Life is good, especially today."
There are five hundred miles of paved roads in this area. We'll ride as much as we can.
One wall in the bar. It's filled with memorabilia, some of it tongue in cheek.
Art shot of the day: You ain't a Texan without a hat.
Make that a Tall Ass Hat.
Luchenbach squirrel?
Selfie of the day: Just listening to the pickin.
This guy, a former Willie Nelson cook, can really play.
Cowboy poet, Walt Perriman.
Population: 3
Hot Rod of the Day.
The girl on the right (Thelma, next to Louise) sang a song in which she claimed to be a marijuana virgin because she was "saving herself for Willie".
No comments:
Post a Comment