Bourbon Jockey: The Documentary Proof

Last week, I participated in a form of collaborative creative engagement that contributed to building cultural community. In lay terms: I played music with a band in a bar for beer.

My fellow music-makers and I (a.k.a. Bourbon Jockey) appeared at Roots Organic Brewing Company in Southeast Portland. We were the evening headliners, as evidenced by our name written prominently on the chalkboard by the door.

We had fun. We helped the establishment move some beer. The people who left when we started to play were planning to leave anyway, and good riddance to them. We kept the volume to a level that allowed amiable conversation by those who were willing to shout at each other. Friends, family and strangers mixed. No fights broke out.

In addition to myself (intrepid front man), Matthew Jones (on upright bass) and Alan Cole (on other guitar), we were accompanied by a young fellow we call “Conga Dave” on account of not knowing his full name. When we last played at Roots, Alan left the stage in the middle of a tune, announcing “I’m going to see if they have a conga drum somewhere.” He rooted around a storage closet and retrieved said drum, then called one of his Lewis & Clark students up on stage to join us. With that simple act, Bourbon Jockey acquired a drummer. We invited Conga Dave to play along last week, though we neglected to confirm whether the closet at Roots still contained a conga drum. It didn’t, so Dave improvised with a few buckets, a shaker and a tambourine played with his foot. In the parlance of musicologists, he employed idiophones rather than a membranophone, but we don't need to get technical about it.

I pulled some video from the bar's security cameras for the benefit and edification of fans who were too stove up to make it out on Thursday night.

1) This first one is a Tom Waits song from whence we derived our name: “Jockey Full of Bourbon.” Sorry about my massive cabeza filling the frame.



2) This next one captures the Bourbon Jockey spirit. While we were playing, we noticed a lone fellow in the corner playing along on a concertina. He was also dressed as a pirate. We coaxed him out front to join us in an impromptu rendition of the Hank Williams classic, “Jambalaya.”



3) A little blues and testifying, with our version of the T-Bone Walker tune, "Stormy Monday" in which I blow on a harmonica and yell.



4) You're still here? Well then here's our take on "Route 66."



If you're hankering for more (and who wouldn't be?) you can find a few more videos on YouTube. Search for "Bourbon Jockey Roots Brewing" to find them. Or not.

We'll be back sometime in June, so put a hold on your entire calendar for the month. I'll keep you posted.

Bourbon Jockey Live!

Did I mention that the amateur musical ensemble with which I make joyous music will be performing at Roots Organic Brewing Company on Thursday, May 20, 2010? You are invited to join the festivities anytime from 8:00 to 11:00 or so. This won't be a "concert," so don't worry about arriving on time, staying through the whole set, or even paying much attention to what we're doing. Consider our music to be a soundtrack to drinking beer and hanging out with friends.

We'll be wailing and caterwauling through an ever-growing list of songs from the Great American Honky Tonk Song Book. In honor of flooding and oil spills, we'll be singing tunes from Nashville and New Orleans. We'll cover everything from Hank Williams to Tom Waits, from Fats Domino to Fats Waller. We might even let you sing along. All are invited to become Bourbonites by joining our fan club, The Bourbon Dynasty. It'll be fun.

I usually don cowboy boots and hat for these gigs, but I'm thinking of showing up in this getup:

In case you can't read the small print, here's the oh-so-sexy ad copy:

One easy piece.

Because one is enough, when it’s you. Show where you’re headed in the ultimate fashion climax.

Fits so tight it shows all you’ve got …you’re a walking turn-on. And treats your body as well as she does.

Easy on, easy off, quick as a flick of her tongue. Sexy cool crinkle cloth for those hot nights to come. Designed with your desires in mind …she’ll eat you alive in it.

The Big Zip in 50% polyester/50% cotton. Long-sleeved in rust, blue or black. Short-sleeved in natural, blue or camel.

Are you man enough to fill it?

$45

More on Storm Large's Genitalia

Yesterday, just moments after being posted online, links to the just-released video of Storm Large singing 8 Miles Wide began to clutter my Twitter and Facebook feeds. For our out-of-town readers, 8 Miles Wide is the catchy tune from Crazy Enough, Storm's hit show at Portland Center Stage. As we say in the business, the show "has legs" -- it's been extended multiple times and is giving Portland's largest theater company some much welcome cash flow this summer. NOTE: The show will definitely be closing on August 16th. FURTHER NOTE: I have not yet seen the show.

The title of the song refers to the breadth of Ms. Large's nether region (metaphorically, we presume). My colleague excitedly posted the video on Culture Shock almost immediately after its release. This morning, the video went national with a mention on salon.com, which called it "the catchiest tune about giant lady parts that you will hear all day."

Couldn't we just leave it at that? No. Sorry.

Here's an excerpt from Mark Twain's classic book,Tom Sawyer, after replacing the word “cave” with “vagina.”

Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand -- for Storm Large’s vagina was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the vagina; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same -- labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man 'knew' the vagina. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the vagina as any one."

Secret Portland

Anybody want to guess where I took the photo of downtown Portland seen above? Does the picture below give a hint?

The "Absolutely No Smoking" sign below is from the site. Over the years, visitors have inscribed their names on the sign, as well as on other surfaces. One visitor, "Pocatella Slim" visited several times, starting as early as 1964. Some wag decided to rechristen Mr. Slim as "PocaFella Slim" in the seventies.

SPOILER ALERT! The first comment on this post reveals the mystery, thanks to David's diligent and crafty research. If you want to play along, don't read the comment section yet. You always read the comments, don't you? You should. They're often better than the post.

Also, I'll post some more fascinating details about this secret location in the next day or two, so be sure to come back for a visit. You always come back to re-read these posts, don't you? You should. They age and mellow.

UPDATE: The top photo was taken from the door on the south side of Union Station's Italianate tower, just below the clockface in this postcard.

The clockface photo is taken from inside the tower. A craftsman/carpenter with whom we are acquainted was working on clocktower renovations for many weeks and invited us to take a peek. The stairway to the top is several hundred steps, with narrow, steep steps on risers twice as high as a normal staircase--more of a ladder than stairs. The walls in the top room are inscribed with names and dates. I wish I'd brought a a notepad to write some of them down. The center of the room is filled with the clockworks (pictured below). The works were in a glass box so I couldn't stick something in the cogs to jam up the works.

Here's an exciting action video of the clockworks, which are powered by gravity--somebody has the crank the weights back up to the top of the tower periodically.