All in Sound Treks
In its first full month of operation, total liquor sales topped $600,000, and, for nearly all of 1981, the club hosted three, four and occasionally five top musical acts every week. "It was as if nothing could go wrong," said one of Billy Bob's most loyal customers, the late Richard Fox. "Everyone wanted to be a cowboy, and the club really sold itself."
That "Fortunate Son" video gets me every time – just everyday Americans doing their thing. This piece isn't about '60s nostalgia or protest anthems, but about the defiant spirit woven into the fabric of American music, from Creedence to Chuck Berry and beyond. Our truest identity lies not in politics, but in the rhythms and raw truths echoing from our garages, porches, and souls.
Just over half a mile connects two Parker County churches, but for Pauline Thomas, it's a weekly journey of musical devotion. Every Sunday around 10:45 a.m., after her own Sunday school at New Hope Baptist, she travels to Prince Memorial CME. There, this dedicated member shares her gift, playing piano and leading the choir, bridging communities through song. This article first appeared in the July 2009 issue of Parker County Today.
Among this dire setting my friend Philip and I decided to start a band, mostly because we enjoyed listening to music and buying records and we wanted to do something creative and fun. We eventually recruited Philip’s co-worker and friend, Pauly, to play drums. Philip played bass. I played guitar and sang. Later we added a keyboard player, Ryan. Our big hope was to meet some fellow music nerds and make friends.
I look back now and I think about my two phone calls with Bob Johnston — a man who made Dylan sound his best, and who recorded some of the most timeless American music ever put to tape – and I think about how effortless the conversations were. He was completely charming and likable. This article appeared Aug. 12, 2012, on darrenwhitecreative.com.
Carlin said in an interview he was inspired to write about R.E.M. because of their political significance — what they stood for in the “Don’t Stop” ‘90s — and that’s what he’s done here. He’s written a book about the idea of R.E.M., which, of course, is what R.E.M. has always been selling.
Curtis found a whole new sound in 1954 on East Belknap Street in Fort Worth while visiting an uncle, at a little store called Melody Shop Record Store, run by Lena Mae Ball. The store sold used 78s from jukeboxes in the back of the store for 10 cents. It was there Curtis heard music like he'd never known before. This article first appeared in the June 2009 issue of Parker County Today.
Every few years it seems like someone picks up the banner for John Anderson as one of our country’s truly great artists, and, inevitably, the people who have been here the whole time are appreciative, but it fails to really generate the kind of renewed interest the faithful think he deserves. It’s fun and then John settles back into his routine – playing shows in beloved haunts and occasionally appearing on RFD-TV.
It was very, very hot and the entire session was recorded in one afternoon and released as an EP called Moejadkatebarry. The label address on the record was 5721 S.E. Laguna Ave. Stuart, Fla. How did Moe Tucker and Jad Fair end up in this little town? This article originally appeared on July 3, 2012, on darrenwhitecreative.com.
Allsup met Buddy Holly at Norman Petty's legendary studio in Clovis, N.M. in 1958. He played guitar on about 10 of Holly's songs, including the classic "It's So Easy." A lost coin toss kept Allsup off the plane that took Holly's life. This article first appeared in the February 2008 issue of Parker County Today.
“A friend of mine told me that was the Florida in me coming out … There were a lot of straight roads in Florida. I always wanted to get myself a big truck and just whistle right down the Sunshine State Parkway, just double-clutching my way.” This article originally appeared Sept. 30, 2010, on darrenwhitecreative.com
I watched Yacht Rock: A Documentary on Max this weekend, and I thought it would make for a good opportunity to reflect on this odd little subgenre that has become its own cottage industry over the last decade or so. The documentary focuses on a certain type of bouncy, smooth adult contemporary music popular in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s.
Japandroids released their fourth and final record, Fate & Alcohol, last week and so it seems like a good time to write about this band, the emotions their music stirred in listeners and who at least one of those listeners was.
A year after their guitar player was shot to death, a Weatherford metal band perseveres. This article appeared in the October 2009 issue of Parker County Today.
