Scenes from the Waterfront Blues Festival

Photos from Friday, July 3, at the Waterfront Blues Festival in Portland, Ore.

I heard a god today

To say I didn't like country music when I was young would be the ultimate understatement. I hated it. I was a rocker. I was a head banger. I like AC/DC and Van Halen. I liked Ozzy Osbourne, Cinderella, Queensryche and the like.

Country was my parents' music.

But one summer when I was in college I met a guy from Texas. Our musical tastes were not directly compatible. Tom's musical tastes tended more toward alternative music. It was music I was somewhat familiar with, since some friends at the college radio station had similar tastes. But it's wasn't stuff in my personal musical catalog.

Tom and I were both interning at the Corvallis newspaper. (I wrote some about Tom and Texas in this post.) One day we had no particular assignment, so we were just cruising around the city and talking. We got talking about music and both expressed a dislike for country music. But Tom surprised me by saying there was one guy who's stuff he liked. The artist's name was George Strait.

I'd never heard of this George Strait guy. We ended up going to a record store and bought a couple of cassette tapes "Ocean Front Property" and "Greatest Hits". We drove around Corvallis with the music playing and before I knew it I was singing along. Good thing we weren't on the normal payroll because we were not working. As we listened to those tapes, the music got into my head. It shouldn't have. It contained all the things I thought I hated about country music -- those steel guitars and that twangy sound. When Tom left town, he left the tapes with me and I kept listening. The music was infectious and I grew not just to like it, but to love it.

I've been listening to George Strait music for nearly 22 years now and have seen him in concert more than any other artist. I saw him perform first at the Pendleton Round-Up at at his country music festivals featuring other up-and coming artists in San Bernardino, Anaheim and Las Vegas and with another artist at the Forum in Inglewood, Calif.

CBS broadcast the all-start concert tribute to George Strait as the Academy of Country Music's Artist of the Decade tonight. Congratulations Mr. Strait and thank you for decades of great music. And thanks, Tom, for introducing me to the King of Country Music. Fifty-seven No. 1 songs, and he's not done yet.

Now, in this digital music age, I don't buy as many full albums as I used to. But George Strait's music I will continue to buy by the album because each one is well worth the price. Here's to many many more years of George Strait music.

Remembering The Day The Music Died

He died before I was born, but Buddy Holly's music has been part of the soundtrack of my life, just like it has been part of so many people's lives for generations.

When Holly, Ritchie Valens and the J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson were killed in a plane crash on Feb. 3, 1959, it became known as The Day the Music Died.

Of course music lived on, as did the music of Holly, Valens, and even The Big Bopper. But losing those talented people at the peak of their creativity and fame must have been a crushing blow to their fans.

The day the music died for me came more than 30 years later, on Aug. 27, 1990 when Stevie Ray Vaughan died under similar circumstances, in a helicopter crash following a concert. My roommate at my first newspaper job had introduced me to Vaughan's music less than a year before. His blues-infused guitar captivated me. And just after I found it, found him, he was gone. And I felt an emptiness and loss as sure as if a friend or family member had died.

I still love and listen to Vaughan's music. It still moves me. But there is no sense of sadness when I listen to the energy and power of Vaughan's distinctive sound. I feel happy. It makes me feel energized.

I can't help but wonder what more Vaughan could have done musically if he had lived. But his music lives on. As does the music of Buddy Holly, who was only 22 when he died. So much music lost.

I bought some Buddy Holly music today. It was an obvious gap in my music library. Rest easy Mr. Holly, you and your music did "Not Fade Away".

And in spite of Don McLean's iconic tribute, "American Pie," that day 50 years ago was not The Day the Music Died. It was a day a generation -- several generations -- learned to love and appreciate the music and all those who made it and left the stage far too soon.

There was too much good stuff to let it all stay in Vegas

I was out of town last week, off playing hooky last week. I was in Las Vegas for the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo.

Before I get too far removed from the experience, I wanted to share a few of those experiences here.

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I didn't take a computer along, but I did post some updates via cell phone of my activities at the National Finals on my personal Twitter page. I was disappointed to find out that those updates stopped posting to my Facebook page at midweek.

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The rodeo action was, as always, the highlight of the week for me. This was the 50th anniversary performance. My parents have had tickets through a tour group for probably about 20 years now. The tickets are for the last 5 performances each year. I think the first time I went with them to the rodeo was in 1991 (I'd have to find where I've got previous years' programs stashed to confirm the date). I have been lucky to either go with them or meet them in Las Vegas nearly every year since 1994. I always try to see something or do something new every time I'm in Vegas, because there is so much to see and do there, and so many places I still haven't been. This year's trip was fill of firsts. We stayed at a new hotel this year, the South Point Hotel Casino.
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I watched a screening Tuesday, Dec. 9, of a new documentary at the South Point's movie theater about the life of two of rodeo's stars of the 1980s -- bull rider Lane Frost and the bull Red Rock. The documentary, "The Challenge of Champions: The Story of Lane Frost and Red Rock", was recently released on DVD and it was shown in a special big-screen screening. It featured interviews with fellow cowboys and Frost's traveling partners Tuff Hedeman and Cody Lambert. Also featured prominently were Frost's parents, Clyde and Elsie Frost, and stock contractor John Growney of Growney Brothers Rodeo Company, who owned Red Rock.

The highlight of the screening was that John Growney and Clyde and Elsie Frosts answered questions and told stories about Frost and Red Rock after the screening. Well, to be honest, Elsie Frost and Growney did most of the talking as Clyde was the quite type. I don't think he said a word to the audience over the microphone. But as I was filing past the Frosts after the Q&A session, both Elsie and Clyde took time to shake hands and talk to those who greeted them and express their appreciation for people still being interested in their late son's story. It was an honor to shake Clyde and Elsie's hands and thank them for sharing their story with those of us in the audience and with the documentary film maker, David Wittkower.

The movie also features the song Red Rock by the Smokin' Armadillos, which I definitely need to add to my iPod.

Red Rock - Smokin Armadillos

Later in the week a ran into Growney in the elevator as I was going down to the casino from my room. I told him I appreciated the presentation he and the Frosts made after the movie screening. He was very polite and friendly, showing off his trademark smile.

You've got to love rodeo people, they are extremely friendly and approachable.

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Speaking of approachable rodeo folks, I spotted the aforementioned Tuff Hedemen near one of the bar's in the South Point casino on Saturday night, Dec. 13. A couple of female fans were getting their picture taken with the retired bull riding champ.

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Butch Knowles (right) behind the bucking chutes at the Pendleton Round-Up in 2005.

The group of farmers, ranchers and others I went to the rodeo with from Eastern Oregon were joined by another name, and face, familiar to rodeo fans on our return fright home from Las Vegas to Portland Sunday, Dec. 14. ESPN rodeo commentator Butch Knowles, a former NFR average winner in the saddle bronc riding, flew home with us and spent time talking with many of the folks in our tour group. Of course, some in our group knew Knowles before he his NFR days or his TV days. And some know him now as a rancher co-founder of Hermiston's Farm-City Pro Rodeo. One of the popular topics of conversation with Knowles appeared to he his nephew, Trevor Knowles, who finished fourth in the world standings in steer wresting, won or tied for first in the last four of 10 go-rounds at the NFR.

The reason I know at least part of what Knowles talked about to folks was because my dad, brother Dean and I say behind him (and talked with him a bit ourselves) on the flight to Portland. That is, we talked when we weren't sleeping. I don't know how much rest Knowles got in his 10-day broadcasting trip to Vegas, but I know I ended up pulling an all-nighter before our flight.

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As if five nights of rodeo action weren't enough, I also watched some of the action at the World Series of Team Roping, which was held at the South Point's Equestrian and Events Center. There were literally hundreds of roping teams at the South Point for the event.

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One of the other highlights of the week for me was getting to see some up-and-coming country musicians on the Academy of Country Music stage at the Cox Pavillion prior to the rodeo. In the lineup were The Carter Twins, Whitney Duncan, Randy Houser, Zac Brown Band and Jack Ingram.

Ingram was definitely the best known, and most popular with the female fans, but I count myself as a new fan of the Zac Brown Band, who definitely put on the best 45-minute show. Houser also had a strong performance. To be honest, I didn't stick around for much of the Carter Twins' performance. And I didn't catch all of Duncan's show, but she seems like she's still trying to find her voice and her sound.

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I'm sure there's more, but I need to finish this post and call it a night.

An enjoyable journey down October Road

This season's TV viewing has been pretty much a bust. The writer's strike left a lot of long winter nights without some familiar faces and video friends to keep us company.

I'm currently watching the season finale of October Road. I find it ironic that the second season is ending after showing about one season's worth of shows since it's debut.

In this strike-shortened year, it is an odd irony that one of the bright spots of the last few weeks has been a show that is very well written. I hope that's not a kiss of death for the show as the last well-written show I became a fan of was the Aaron Sorkin drama, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. That show died an all-too-quick death.

But October Road is different, because it's a show about normal people and the normal dramas of life. It's not another cop show, or a hospital show or a show about a show. It's a show a bout a small town guy and his mixed feelings about returning home. Trying to get a life back he left behind and reconnect with the people he loves who he once walked away from in pursuit of a dream.

I can related to that. And it features great music.

I like October Road. I hope it has a long and winding journey.

Healey's passing leaves guitars weeping again

Canadian guitarist Jeff Healey could make a guitar weep, or roar. His unconventional playing style, holding the guitar across his lap, allowed him to make one instrument sound like many. But sadly, now that guitar is silent.

Jeff Healey died Sunday in Toronto at age 41.

I can't claim to be an expert on music, or even Healey's music, but I am proud to be a fan of his blues/rock. I got to see Healey perform once, years ago, in Medford, Ore. My roommate at the time, Logan, and I ventured across the mountains from Klamath Falls to see the Jeff Healey Band perform at some forgotten venue in Medford.

I don't remember when, or where, I first heard Healey's music. It was probably in college. But Logan converted me into a fan of Stevie Ray Vaughan, another blues/rock guitar virtuoso. Vaughan, who was also taken the world far too soon, dies shortly shortly after Logan introduced me to his music. Now, Healey's passing has reminding me a friend from long ago I haven't seen in many years. But that's the magic of music. It's the ultimate time machine.



My early Healey music collection was on cassette tapes, now gathering dust in a back room. But I have added some of my favorite Healey song onto my digital music collection. I'd like to find some of his jazz work to see if I enjoy that as much as his blues sound. It's amazing how music with so much energy and vitality can still sound so sad an mournful at the same time.

Since I heard of Healey's passing earlier today, the refrains of his cover of George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," have been running through my head. Today, guitars all over the world are weeping, because Jeff Healey won't be around to make them sing as only he could.

R.I.P. Jeff, and thanks for sharing your special talent and the music of others who came to it through your love for music of earlier generations.