Mo Pair, Musician
First off, I would like to thank the very kind garbologist, Mr. Steve Inmon, for providing the photos in this blog report via facebook. I told many that I returned w/ many a road tale after this venture. Where to start?
We shall began with the line-up. The quartet that solidified on this tour, which began as a “songwriter-in-the-round” concept, included the following:
What began as said “songwriter-in-the-round” eventually coalesced into a representation of the “Purple Bee Revue.” For more info, see here:
Our first show occurred at Padre’s in Marfa on Dec. 28, 2011. After driving two vehicles from Lockhart, TX to Marfa (thanx go to Nick and Kem for the use of their rides), we arranged ourselves in sitting position upon bar stools on Padre’s elevated stage scenario, all facing the audience. After a rushed feed and an overworked staff, we began the music, beginning w/ Mo and then going to my right. It appeared that we kept the audience, although one of our crew suggested that we pick it up a bit. Overall, it was a nite of success with a bit of tomfoolery, as usual. Thanx go to the Inmons and David Duke for their accomodations.
Then, post-gig, we stayed at this artist complex: a two-story or more wooden house of large structure and old feel, expansive and enormous on the outside; quaint, homey, complex, and artistic on the inside. Some of the bar stools unexpectedly showed up at said house, which was full of art and… my my… records!
Not “my” records, in the sense that I owned them previously and someone had taken them, and now they were in this house. But “my my,” “…as in surprise and alarm…,” a famous member of Monty Python once said in their classic rendering of the Arthur tale. Yes! Vinyl records. Much have I thought as of late as to the acquisition of these fine specimens, except that I’d like to recreate my own recordings as such! Oh… and a slight correction in the previous sentence: I was indirect in that I was speaking of the beasts upon the stools… but since I had trouble differentiating them later, I will just refer to them as “barstools.” Said stools followed us to the house lookin’ for a good time, made a small, inconvenient uproar, and then left, cursing.
After a stay at that funky little-big Marfa house, complements of Duke and his associates, I do believe we relaxed the following mornin’. Then we headed to the domicile of the Goss’, who have been building upon their desert studio, known by many as the Broken Strings. We were warmly received in said home of the Goss’, as is usual, in the resort known as Lajitas. Those who have been down there realize that the journey from Marfa/Alpine to Lajitas is one of the best your eyes may ever see, with the stunning scenery only an isolated desert may offer: jagged peaks in the distance rising out of a brushy, barren landscape.
Anita Goss showed us a copy of George Goss’ new work! An illustrated, glossy, coffee-table item of George’s “Welcome to the Badlands.” Please obtain this work here:
Our 2nd show in this journey occurred the eve of this day, Dec 29, in the Terlingua ghost town at the Starlight Theatre. Thanx go, of course, to our audience- those that I recall- Greg Grymes and Carmen, Trevor Reichman (thanx to him for helping us w/ sound), Doug, who provided the PA and was playing before us, Duke, the Goss’ (George and Anita)…
In a nutshell, Terlingua is a dead-mercury-mining-town-goes-tourist-trap/eclectic-individual-stop-[off]OR[over]/thing of exasperating beauty. One must indeed stand on the porch of the Starlight Theatre and look down the hill at the ruins of those miners-past, occupied and not, and the said “desolation” about, with the uprisings aforementioned rising jagged, serene, sublime. I recall an English artist, whom I met upon said porch almost a decade ago, discussing with me the loneliness of that entire region. The loneliness in that both he and I were in essence alone there, yet together I suppose for those few minutes. The loneliness also of the dead-yet-vibrant stillness in the air, in the physical, all around. But he further said that he preferred to think of this “alone” as “all-one,” because one does truly feel the interconnectedness of all things when in the desert.
At this juncture I would like to interpose some writing from a certain anthropologist of long ago, from a different time and a different way. Ms. Alice Fletcher, who studied the Omaha, long ago, wrote this and I have recreated it in phrase style and then titled it:
An invisible and continuous life was believed to permeate all things, seen and unseen
This life manifests itself in two ways:
First by causing to move all motion,
all actions of mind or body are because of this invisible life;
second, by causing permanency of structure and form,
as in the rock,
the physical features of the landscape,
mountains, plains, streams, rivers, lakes, the animals and man
This invisible life was also conceived of as being similar to the will power
of which man is conscious within himself
a power by which things are brought to pass.
Through this mysterious life and power
all things are related to one another and to man,
the seen to the unseen,
the dead to the living,
a fragment of anything to its entirety.
This invisible life and power was called Wako n/ da.
For further info in this regard, please go here.
The Starlight Theatre show was where our sound began to solidify, from the catchy hooks of Kem, to the epic sounds of Emilie’s music, to the quirkiness that is of Nick, and then myself, trying to fill in the gaps. Since Trevor and Greg were in attendance, we invited them to do a few. I do recall playing Pink Floyd’s “The Crying Song,” for Diego, who is a Floyd freak and was in the back in his head-cook roll.
After crashing the residence of the Goss’ and enjoying the benefits of Shorty’s, the following day I recall enjoying Shorty’s too much, actually. Perhaps the best thing I did all day was accompany Trevor, Emilie, and Emilie’s friend, Ryan (who was riding w/ us) on a walk about the resort, literally a “stones-throw” from Mexico, as Trevor would cheerfully cast stones across the Rio Grande and report.
Well, the cheerfullness of Shorty’s followed me deep into the night, at our 3rd and final show of the tour- I did keep a sippin’ and sippin’, sittin’ in the back part of the stage, in a little nook, perhaps naturally occurring.
Said nook is but a wall separating stage from booth at the famed La Kiva, a bar literally in the earth, run by Glenn, who inherited it from his uncle, I believe, Gil. What a great show that felt and was, I believe! Seems like we kinda came together as a quartet. Perhaps it was the drink that got me silly, but I do recall spinning off the three Syd Barrett songs I deemed necessary for the occasion, works from the Piper at the Gates of Dawn: The Gnome, Bike, and Scarecrow. Glenn was quite pleased with the whole event, his bar being fat and happy through the nite. A general carousing happened after the gig out in the parking lot, which put ole Mo over the edge and into spitting up bile at about 3:30a. Well.. I got better…
I recall spending the next day, which was 12/31/11, in recovery. It wasn’t so bad. I was able to drive Kem’s vehicle and talk shop w/ her all the way to Duke’s place, Polvo, and on to the next, and for me, most interesting part of this whole tale…