David Vidal's Blog – March 2010 Archive (12)

The next morning I stopped at a Mexican restaurant (notice a pattern here?) for breakfast. And hit the road toward Colorado. My sister Lou Ann and her husband live in Loveland, a foothill community just north of Denver. I hadn't seen them for awhile.



The sky was clear, but it was windy as I headed west on Interstate 80.



Having grown up in the Far West, I forget that the Midwest is the West too. When you're there, you can feel it in the history, and the people, and the lay of… Continue

Josh had a show in Omaha that night. Some kind of restaurant gig. But he said he'd be back with his guitar player to do an opening set at The Zoo Bar. He asked if I wanted to play some slide guitar with them. I always want to play some slide guitar.



So I showed up a bit before nine. Found a parking spot around the corner from the club. Cozied the van up to a snow bank. Brought my stuff inside... a couple of guitars and stands. The club had a p.a. and a sound man. I was relieved to… Continue

About thirty miles out of Lincoln, I called Josh Hoyer. The reception was lousy, so the ensuing communication was a combination of half finished phone conversations and text messages. He guided me to the Super 8 Motel, where a room was reserved.



Since I was there a day early, I'd agreed to pay for the room the first night. The Zoo Bar would pick up the tab for the second night.



The parking lot was almost totally covered with ice. I wasn't confident about the van's ability to… Continue

The first time I traveled Interstate 80 eastbound was soon after I got out of high school. A friend of mine was going to Minneapolis, and I rode along with him. I don't remember Lincoln from that trip, honestly, nor Omaha. But Des Moines left an impression, because there were hookers on the corners. I don't know why, but that took me by surprise. I just hadn't expected street walkers blatantly doing business right out in the open in Iowa. It's funny how the world is not at all as you'd imagine… Continue

The next morning it was snowing. Wendell called a mechanic he knew, because I had failed to get the nut unscrewed to check the transmission fluid level. Not that I didn't try. I just couldn't get the thing to budge once I crawled under there, because it had been put on so tight.



So I stop by the garage, and the mechanic gets it up on the lift, unscrews the nut and finds the fluid level is fine. Hmmm. Maybe it was overfilled? Who knows. I stop worrying about it. For now. And head… Continue

My dad owned an old Gibson acoustic guitar. He had it as far back as I can remember. I used to lay it on my lap, when I was like four, and slide my fingernails on the strings. I always liked the way it sounded, sliding up the neck. I realize now that's where my bottleneck guitar playing started.



He used to sing old cowboy songs. "Streets of Laredo". "Red River Valley". Stuff like that. He also played some pretty mean boogie woogie piano. My older sisters had a vocal trio. I grew up… Continue

After the wells collapsed and my family moved from the ranch in southern New Mexico, we lived outside of Pagosa Springs, Colorado. It's nestled high in the Rocky Mountains, in the southwestern region of the state. We moved there just in time for me to enter second grade.



"Pagosa" is a Ute word meaning either "stinking" or "healing". There is a hot springs in the town with a strong, sulfurous odor.



When we moved there, the lumber mill was still in operation. It has long since… Continue

People sometimes comment on the fact that I'm "still chasing my dream". I think that the underlying message is "what the hell are you doing... grow up, you moron", or something to that effect. Fact is, what I do has nothing whatsoever to do with chasing a dream. Dream chasing sounds like a total exercise in futility. If it's something you enjoy, then great. But be careful lest you actually catch one. They're not at all what they appear to be.



All I'm doing is living a life, and doing… Continue

After an aborted show in Beaumont, where the manager of the place double booked and Ed Starkey and I wasted gas and time driving over there and then darn near killed ourselves with bad food at a waffle house on the way back, I left Houston for Georgetown, Texas. None the worse for the wear, having made some new friends, and with a little money in my pocket.



Georgetown is just north of Austin, a handsome town with a quaint square and well kept shops and houses. My buddy Rick Dinsmore… Continue

The next night was at a different restaurant. Same chain. If you can get a couple of money gigs in a row, it will start to foster the illusion that you are actually making a real living. Hey, you will be... for a couple of nights. Kenneth booked the next weekend as well, at the same places. And a show at the Taqueria el Patron in between.



"The Tock", as it is known, is a local family owned humble yet nice eatery in a Houston strip mall where the plans of Flyin' Dog Records, with whom I… Continue

The next morning was sunny and bright. I slept in, which I'm prone to doing, given the opportunity. I made some coffee when I got up. Took another hot shower. (You've got to take advantage of these things when they're available). Watched cable news. There was some tragedy or another going on. I slowly got my stuff together. It always amazes me how quickly I can make a mess out of a clean room.



I called the mechanic shop. They were working on the van. I took what I had brought with me… Continue

Texas is a big state. I know that's stating the obvious. But seriously. It is. Though it's not that tall. Having grown up in the Rocky Mountains, I assure you Texas is not very tall relative to some of its neighbors. But it has tremendous girth. And one tends to feel a bit swallowed up by it.



West Texas has some mountains. Lots of dirt, too. Cattle ranches and such. After a good long while, you pass through that region of girth, and enter the hill country part. Gently rolling hills,… Continue