There's a video below of a magical little scene I sort of stumbled upon. If you enjoy the video, there's another one below taken just a few minutes before this one. I hope you'll check it out, too.
Anyway, here was the situation: Tim Crosby and Doug Anderson had both just finished albums, and they scheduled a release party together on Tres Hombres' patio. The Friday it was supposed to happen, it was a hundred out. The party was set for six, and around five I heard it had been moved inside. About then, the sky in the southeast turned dark and thunderclaps started. By the time my nephew Eric and I were driving to Tres Hombres, rain was falling.
When we got there, the lights were out inside, and unamplified guitars and voices drifted from up front. Tres had lost its power; the room was dark and hot, some people leaving, but Eric and I ordered drinks. In a few minutes the music stopped, and the crowd shrank some more. Our drinks were just about gone when a friend came up and said, "Come on. Doug and Tim are playing on the patio."
Outside, the rain had turned very light. Under a canopy against one wall, Tim and Doug played, and maybe ten people were under there with them. Eric and I joined the group. Everyone was listening, nobody saying a word,Tim and Doug playing straight from the heart. The rain smelled clean, and the intermittent drops sounded small on the canopy. I was thinking not one thought--all of us seemed to be right there, right then. I hardly registered the Harleys and hotrods rumbling beyond the patio's high wooden fence.
I stepped out from under the canopy and recorded the last two songs with my cell phone. I doubt that the recordings capture the magic, but a hint of it might come through, I don't know.
Tim Crosby and Doug Anderson had both just finished albums, and they scheduled a release party together on Tres Hombres' patio. The Friday it was supposed to happen, the temperature was a hundred. The party was set for six, and around five I heard things had been moved inside. About then, the sky in the southeast turned dark and thunderclaps started. By the time my nephew Eric and I were driving to Tres Hombres, rain was falling.
When we got there, the lights were out inside, and unamplified guitars and voices drifted from the stage up front. Tres had lost its power; the room was dark and hot, some people leaving, but Eric and I ordered drinks at the bar. In a few minutes the music stopped, and the crowd shrank some more. We were just about finished when a friend came up and said, "Come on. Doug and Tim are playing on the patio."
Outside, the rain had turned very light. Under the canopy against the north wall, Tim and Doug played, and maybe ten people were under there with them. Eric and I joined the group. Everyone was listening, nobody saying a word,Tim and Doug playing straight from the heart. The rain smelled clean, and the drops sounded small and intermittent on the canopy. I was thinking not one thought--all of us seemed to be right there, right then. I hardly registered the Harleys and hotrods rumbling beyond the patio's high wooden fence.
I stepped out from under the canopy and recorded the last two songs with my cell phone. I doubt that the recordings can capture the magic, but a hint of it might come through, I don't know.
Tawl Paul is gonna be rocking Pk's tonight. But if you're staying home play this at midnight. He's doing "Auld Lang Sang" backed up by Miz D. and Kent McD. (If you're going to PKs tonight, play it now. :o) )
Last summer Tawl Paul was singing at a Thursday night Happy Hour show at Pk's. He started into ''When the Blues Come Knockin' " and Loy Addington liked what he was hearing, got out his phone and started recording. The song was already in progress, but you'll see what was going down. The folks in the band are Dorothy McDaniel on bass, Charlie Morrill on drums, and me (Kent McD) on guitar. Working the sound board is the one and only Rick Droit.
