Hanover’s
1.23

Well its that time again.  Hanovers was booked with a cover band.  Lately they have been booking plenty of them.  I have seen a Jimi Hendrix band, followed by a Van Halen band. I must say that it worked, seeing that I love both bands, but I had never heard of Skyrocket. Since I live down the street though, and Trish Murphy is in the band, I decided to go and have a look see.

Now, I am a child of the seventies and Eighties… mainly the Eighties. A true Gen-Xer. Both my parrents loved music.  In spite of that we had very few albums in the house.  I remember Captain and Taneal, the Beatles White album, Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, The Beach Boys Greatest Hits, Hank Williams Jr., and a cut out single of whale songs that my dad cut out of a National Geographic magazine.  Needless to say when at 6 years old, I asked for a Kiss album and lunch box, my folks were a little freaked out.

The seventies gave way to the eighties. Atari 2600 and then 5200, and sudenly the J. Giles Band had a video that occupied every young mans dreams; you know the one, and it was not “Love Stinks”.  From “Afternoon Delight” to “Rock The Casbah” I grew into a young man.  MTV was my babysitter.

The band Skyrocket is made up of people that are dedicated to the sound of the original music. When you hear “Hot Child Ind The City” or “Brandy” or any number of their songs, you get the feeling of the original intent.

Lots of folks thing that cover bands are less than worth the charge to get in the door, but these guys make it stick. I dont say that lightly.  Go now to your search engine and hear them for yourself.

Go out, See a band, Support the live music capitol of the world!

Arnold Wells

Antones Night Club
Austin, Texas 1.9

Doyle Bramhall II is one of those enigmatic and mercurial guitar players that were born to do what they do. Working hard, pushing themselves, even to their detriment, towards a prize of their own making.  From The Arc Angles to playing with Eric Clapton, from the Great Wall of China with Smokestack to Rodger Waters, Doyle strides this world held up by his inner strength and his ability to capture listeners. Though he may have had struggles with the demons of his trade, he seems to have at last come to some sort of peace with them. The Arc Angles are back in play, and his solo band is drawing the faithful. So it was that I, myself, set about to see this guitar giant. It was my hope to find the same inspired material that so many years ago, sent me on the road to find satisfaction in my own music. In short, Doyle was an inspiration to me in the earliest of my live music pursuits, and he continues to be to this day. Count me as a fan: Let us begin.

I made my way to the front of the stage, and had a while to wait. The opening band was still packing up their stuff and the technicians were making the stage ready for the headliner. I looked around this room, so full of Texas Music History. From the photos of Clifford Antone with all manner of stars, to the painting of Stevie Ray Vaughan playing Lenny behind his back, this place is steeped in Texas Jujus. A look to the VIP box found Chris Layton, Bob Schneider, and all manner of folk sweltering in this the hottest part of the bar. Ironically, they did look cool as they were sweating. I looked at the set list taped upside-down in front of me and shot a photo. I was looking for my favorite Smokestack song. It was not there. “Problem Child” would have to wait it seemed.

When the band came on, I was taken aback at the revelation that Gary Clark Jr. would be playing second guitar in this show. A monster guitar player in his own right, I could not wait to see how Gary would add spice to Doyle’s line up. Doyle donned a gorgeous red metal-flake Fender Stratocaster (the likes of which I have never seen) for the first song. ”I Wanna Be” got the crowd lubed up for the rest of the show. When they broke out into “Outside Woman Blues”, a Cream mainstay, I found myself bouncing to the rhythms and singing along.  Slowing it down with “So You Want It To Rain” the crowd was swaying and grooving to every note.  Switching between a Gibson Thunderbird and that cherry Strat, Doyle let loose a maelstrom of Texas guitar slinger goodness that sank us to the depth and breadth of his very soul, or so we felt. Seeming reserved at times and jovial at others, I got the impression that he is deadly serious about what he does.  Weaving soulful, heartfelt vocals with a guitar style that alternates between sweet finesse and balls to the wall glory, all I can say is long live the Problem Child, and may you continue to fill venue after venue.

I was particularly fond of the cover of “You Got Me Floating” that was played near the end of the show. Having defiled my body with a huge Hendrix tattoo in my youth, with the words Bold As Love in two-tone letters on my right shoulder blade, I could not help but to laugh out loud. There were many songs to cover from that album but this was the contrarian choice. When half the songs on my cover list were Hendrix songs, we left so many out, especially where Noel Redding’s voice can be heard in the chorus. Thank you for the re-education Mr. Bramhall.

In the end, we are what we create on this planet, and for my money Doyle Bramhall II is a creator of my kind of earthly reminders. Maybe one day, when we look up in the eastern sky, we will tell our children that there is Doyle’s belt instead of Orion’ Belt. Maybe… maybe not.

Just so you all know, Arnold means “soars with the eagles”, and Cassiopeia is the Wells monogram in the sky. So I see myself there in the stars with my brother, and brothers like Doyle Bramhall II. So shall it be…

Arnold Wells

Go out, See a band, and support the “Live Music Capitol of the World.”

December 19th 2008

Once again I went to the friendly neighborhood drinking hole.  Hanover’s has become my home bar for sure.  Not only is it right down the street from my house, but the new owners have been working very hard to get a great assortment of new bands in.  This night was no different.

The band assaulting the eardrums as I walked in was called Spinning Chain.  They were loud as hell and playing that in your face balls rock that you do not see as often as you used to.  They were tight with a great drummer (Butch Smith) laying down the beat.  He was wearing shooting ear protection and I can assure you it was needed.  The guitar guy (Taz) was rocking out a Les Paul with reserved malice like a South Padre wind blowing razor blades off the top of the surf.  The lead singer (Jimi Scott Mancille) was belting out the lyrics with the precision of a chain saw cutting an ice sculpture for a Clive Barker movie.  The bass man (Franklin “Redd” Rosell) stood a full foot above everyone else on the stage.  At 6 feet 6 inches tall and covered in tattoos, he gave off a real Frankenstein type of vibe.  All these guys were wearing eye makeup to accent the furious fire behind the eyes as they slammed through song after song.

I grew up listening to the loudest, scariest rock and metal that I could get my hands on.  The angrier the better.  That is what Spinning Chain reminded me of…  a time when some of the music was scary and you might just lose your soul for buying the album and listening to it a top volume.  These guys were like Deep Purple meets King Diamond and it worked.  I will go and see them again.  It was kind of like fight club where you realize that you like getting hit in the face and seeing your own blood.  Thanks for booking this band Hanover’s.  Get them back again soon.

Having to follow these guys was a tough gig.  Next up was the band Slick Fist.  Looking like they had just arrived in a time machine from opening up for UFO in 1975, I was excited to hear what they had to give.  I was not to be disappointed.  While they were decidedly less loud than Spinning Chain, they did have that oldschool hard rock thing going for them.  The singer had that smoothe as sandpaper rasp with a great vocal range behind it.  Backing him up on vocals and keeping time, the bass guy (seemingly the youngest guy in the band), cranked out steady and heady.  The guitar man for Slick Fist reminded me of Rainbow and Elf.  He was pure classic hard rock. From his attitude to his raw technical riffage, he seemed to exude the type of guitar god persona that was born in the seventies.  Laying Bricks in the background, the drummer (a bear of a man) held them all together with great time and a great sense of humor as well.

All said it was a great bill, hard rock served up with hard rock for desert.  It seems like I can’t find a band worthy of negative criticism yet, but I guess that’s a good thing.

Get out, go see a band, and support the scene that is the Live Music Capitol of the World.