Eric Lindell - Gulf Coast Highway

 

There was very little change in my pocket.  The jingle jangle of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters had been replaced by the swish swish of the inner cotton pocket of my jeans.  I was quickly walking through the dark side streets of the French Quarter.  The glow of cigarette cherries in dank doorways and side alleys, and the smell of urine made me anxious.  I started to trot, then jog, out to Rampart St.  It was getting late and I needed to get back to my dingy hotel on Bourbon Street. 

To tell the truth I was lost and scared.  I hurried past Dauphine Street and pulled up at Frenchman Street.  That is when I first heard the sound coming from a bar called the d.b.a..  As I approached I could see this slender white boy belting out some of the best funky New Orleans-tinged blue-eyed soul I had ever heard.  I stood in the entryway transfixed. A melodious cacophony of electric guitars, organ and Creole horns accented the funk, blues and roots-rock. All of the sudden it didn’t matter that I needed to get back to the hotel to sleep since I had a 5:35 a.m. plane to catch.  I asked the bouncer, “who is this guy?”  He said two words “Eric Lindell” and then said, “If you’re gonna listen you got to pay them dues. Cash only.” I made rabbit ears out of my empty pockets, asked for directions to my hotel and left.

I woke up the next morning and could not get that sound out of my head.  Eric Lindell, hmmm?  I vowed to see if he had a recording or two. Half awake, and humming some unfamiliar melody, I made my way to the airport for my flight home via SFO. Before I made it over the Bay Bridge I stopped at a Rasputins in the City to look for Lindell recordings. I found a few, and grabbed the then most recent, a CD called Gulf Coast Highway.  I took my choice to the clerk at the cash register and pulled out my plastic. I think the clerk was a dude, however, it was hard to tell with the black leather, orange hair, heavy black and blue eye makeup, tattoos and dozen or so piercings.  I handed him, her, it Gulf Coast Highway and he, she, it said, “Oh, Eric Lindell, I grew up with him.”  I looked the cash register being in the eye and said “Really, where?”  The clerk responded “In San Mateo.  He used to play in bands throughout the Bay Area before he moved to New York then to New Orleans back in ‘99.”  I responded, “You don’t look like much of a blue-eyed soul fan.”  He, she, it said, “Well, his early stuff was influenced by Fishbone and Black Flag, that was more my style.  I’m told he’s now quite well-known in the Big Easy.”  I thanked the clerk for taking my credit card and set off for home.

I got back in my car and popped the CD into the stereo.  Out came the funkiest, coolest,  mix of roots-rock, blues, swamp R&B and honky-tonk soul I had heard.  Gulf Coast Highway features 12 original Lindell songs and three amazing covers - Buck Owens’ "Crying Time", Delbert McClinton’s "Here Come The Blues Again" and Waylon Jennings’ & Willie Nelson’s "I Can Get Off On You".  Backing Lindell are Stanton Moore and Robert Mercurio of the funk band Galactic. The inimitable New Orleans fixture Jimmy Carpenter shows up on tenor sax.  Lindell adds an incredible lead guitar and vocals to this Crescent City Cajun musical stew.  Lindell’s voice is like Delbert McClinton’s but on steroids. His style is a hot mix of cool rhythm and blues ("If Love Can't Find A Way"), backroom honky tonk ("It's A Drag "), and country western soul ("Lullaby for Mercy Ann").

I pulled into the driveway just as the fifteenth and final cut, “Raw Doggin’,” a bump and run funk band bit of bluesiness, cleared the speakers.  Since that trip I have acquired every single one of his recordings and can’t wait until his newest West County Drifter is released on August 30, 2011.  Lawdy lord, I’m ready to pre-order.  What about you?

- Old School

Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show - Revisited

It is Mardi Gras and Spring Break all rolled into one.  Then, lit and smoked.  The band members’  tongues are firmly pressed into their cheeks as they look for a party. They make you cry, laugh,  whoop and holler.  Then, they’ll roll you another one.  Yes, the Doctor is in the house.

First, there was George Cummings, Ray Sawyer and Billy Francis and it was good. Then came Dennis Locorriere and it was better.  In 1969 a club owner asked for their name.and their decision-making probably went something like this:

Cummiings:  

“We ah,” (pulls out another zigzag rolling paper) “we need a name” (rolls zigzag with one hand and licks it).  “The man wants us to give him a band name.” (takes a “strike anywhere”” match, scrapes it on his unshaven chin, lights the zig zag and takes a long inhalation.) “Well, any ideas? (the cigarette and conversation pass to the right.)

Francis:

(Large puff, followed by a cloud of exhalation) “Damn, that’s tough.  Any of you got some pills? My head is killing me.” (Pockets are searched and contents placed on table)

Locorriere:

(Looking at contents on table) “Wow!  Man,  that is a god damn medicine show!  Hey, let’s call ourselves the ‘Medicine Show.’” (large toke, and the conversation moves to the right.)

Sawyer (who wears an eyepatch due to a 1967 car accident):

“Naw, not good enough.  We need a hook.  That’s it!  How ‘bout “Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show?”   (Nods all around; mint juleps are sipped;  roach is extinguished.)

Cummings:

“Umm. What were we talkin’ about?”

Well, maybe not like that but that is how I have always envisioned  it  (according to wikipedia Sawyer is “mistakenly considered Dr. Hook because of the eyepatch.”) The band had a string of top 100 hits until 1983 when Sawyer left the band.  Their early, gritty, hits are the subject of their pre-disco 1976 Best of Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show release called “Revisited.”

You won’t find the later hits “Sexy Eyes,”  "When You're in Love with a Beautiful Woman" or “Walk Right In” here.  You will find an amalgamation of the band’s best “quirky” work, with almost all of the lyrics written by the late, great writer/poet Shel Silverstein. . Sure, you get the time-tested hit “Cover of The Rolling Stone,”  but you also get “Sylvia’s Mother,”  which tells of a man trying to telephone his ex-girlfriend, Sylvia Avery, to say one last goodbye, but unable to get past her mother; “Acapulco Goldie,” a tale about a beautiful Acapulco prostitute; “Freakin’ At The Freakers’ Ball,” a journey best characterized as a visit to San Francisco’s yearly Exotic-Erotic Ball; “Makin’ It Natural,”  about “going straight” over a woman; “Penicillin Penny,” which explores the life of a Sunset Strip streetwalker with venereal disease;  “Get My Rocks Off,”  a ditty about what things are needed for the singer to, well, get his rocks off; “Carry Me, Carrie,”  a poetic look at a delusional, alcohol addicted, street person; “Queen Of The Silver Dollar,” the saga of a female bar fly who is ultimately won by the singer; and “Roland The Roadie And Gertrude The Groupie,” the story of a roadie in love with a groupie who is only in love with groups.

Okay, this isn’t classic.  It isn’t pop.  It isn’t straight ahead rock.  It’s not jazz,  What is it?  It is Mardi Gras and Spring Break all rolled into one.

- Old School 

Buy here: Revisited
Buy here mp3: Dr. Hook And The Medicine Show Revisited