Dangerous Bill's Cafe Noir

2011-06-14T00:40:00.000-04:00

The Wrong Sort of Apron for a Woman to Wear

2007-08-23T01:00:00.000-04:00

Forty Years Ago: The Most Significant Music Album Ever and Unfortunate Questions of Blackness
On August 23, 1967, America was introduced to the absolutely astounding debut record from 24-year-old Johnny Allen Hendrix. Jimi, to the world.

2007-03-17T13:20:00.000-04:00

How to Get Served Quickly at the Bar
Perfect instructions on how best to beat the queue to get your drink at a crowded bar. These simple steps will optimize your drinking time, and minimize time spent standing and waiting (and waiting and waiting) at the bar.

2007-01-27T11:34:00.000-05:00

A Rocker Who's Come to Terms with Time
Checking in both Bob Seger...

2006-12-31T13:32:00.000-05:00

Casa D' Ice - North Versailles Fine Dining and Live Entertainment
North Versailles' Best Kept Secret... isn't a secret anymore! A fellow establishment in PA with "must see" outside signage.

2006-12-31T11:43:00.000-05:00

Briarcliff Manor High School Class of 1960 Reunion Juke Box
450 songs, jukebox style, from the late 50s.

2006-12-30T12:32:00.000-05:00

Deciphering ladies' drink choices

A number of New York City bartenders were asked if they could nail a woman's personality based on what she drinks. Though interviewed separately, they concurred on almost all counts.

Drink: Beer
Personality: Casual, low-maintenance, down to earth.
Your Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.

Drink: Blender Drinks
Personality: Flaky, whiny, annoying, a pain in the butt.
Your Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabin boy.

Drink: Mixed Drinks
Personality: Older, more refined, high maintenance, very picky, knows exactly what she wants.
Your Approach: You won't have to approach her; if she is interested, she'll send you a drink.

Drink: Wine (does not include White Zinfandel, see below)
Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated yet giggles.
Your Approach: Tell her you love to travel and spend quiet evenings with friends.

Drink: White Zinfandel
Personality: Easy, thinks she is classy and sophisticated, but actually has no clue.
Your Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is; this should be an easy target.

Drink: Shots
Personality: Likes to hang with frat-boy pals and is looking to get totally drunk ... and naked.
Your Approach: Easiest hit in the joint. You have been blessed this evening. Nothing to do but wait. However, be careful not to make her mad!

2006-12-27T12:16:00.000-05:00

James Brown - Godfather of Soul
What did James Brown do? Even now, half a century after the release of his first single, “Please Please Please,” and days after his death of congestive heart failure, at 73, early on Christmas morning, that’s a surprisingly difficult question to answer.

2006-12-25T11:33:00.000-05:00

Soul Pioneer James Brown Dies
Farewell to the Godfather of Soul.

2006-09-12T15:51:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Dangerous Bill's!

We are gonna have a good time. Ease on into a booth and dig the sounds of the jukebox. That's Ray Charles doing "It's Alright." Bobby Blue Bland, BB, Louis Prima, or Lucinda Williams may roll up next. You never know...

We are into good music, good friends, good food, good drink, and good times. Why is Bill Dangerous? The actual nickname came from Bill's recipe for the famous "Killer Colada," but many say it's the way he drives. Could be... they both fit.

We'll start out with some columns by free thinkers and music lovers. Slowly, we'll work into CD reviews, promotion of great local talent and parties -- Washington, Virginia, and Maryland, that is -- some recipes for great food and drink, some beautiful people, and some surprises.

A bar is only as good as it's clientele, so what's your pleasure? Let us know what you want to see. Maybe we'll agree...

PS... we kicked this deal off in 2003, but let it go for a few years as we continued to build and maintain our kustom drag racing hot rod sites. Now that we are in blog form, it should be a lot easier to keep up with. Dig these cool stories from our archives, and then YOU gotta join in... DB

2006-09-12T15:50:00.000-04:00

The Lineup
Here's the current lineup -- four killer cats who spill the facts. Do your words belong here, too? Send us a sample.

Cat Tracks. While the rest of us are air guitar wanna-bes, Wildcat actually plays this stuff. Come hear what he's into this week.

Wheeler Dealer. From racing nitro dragsters to hanging with rock stars to relaxing in Hawaii, Bruce and Kolleen Wheeler have "lived the life." Read. Learn. Envy.

Texas Beat. Danny White discusses blues, rock, progressive country, and whatever else he wants to.

Bikester's Tales. Fred Vosk has been around the block. He hung out with Jimi Hendrix before he "became" Jimi Hendrix. He then became one of the most celebrated custom car painters in West. Lots of stories here...

2003-12-08T15:21:00.000-05:00

Wheeler Dealer with Bruce and Rev. Kolleen Wheeler: Imagine

From a press release: "December 8: John Lennon Day, the anniversary of Lennon's death by assassination, Monday, December 8, 1980; commemorated by Beatles fans the world over."

~ Imagine ~
Words and music by John Lennon

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

"It was twenty years ago today…" December 8, 1980. Bruce and I were living in a 'railroad flat' in an old post-Victorian building on Filbert Street in San Francisco's Cow Hollow district. Bruce was the west coast regional marketing manager for Arista Records at the time, and I was a student at S.F.S.U., double majoring in psychology and art while working part time at U.C.S.F.'s psychiatric hospital. Gil Scott-Heron, an Arista recording artist, was in town. Bruce was having a hard time trying to pry Gil out of his hotel room to make a scheduled in-store autograph session at Berkeley's Tower Records that afternoon, part of the pre-concert promo for his gig at the Oakland Coliseum that evening. Gil was opening for headliner Stevie Wonder.As with all concerts where Bruce represented an Arista act, we had primo seats and all-access backstage passes. This concert was no different, so we hung out in Gil's dressing room for awhile prior to the start of his set, to say hello and generally hobnob at the always fun "scene" that goes on there. It was an exciting time because as much as we loved making the scene we loved the music even more, and tonight's concert promised to be magical in every regard.

However, this time the scene backstage was rather subdued. Stevie was cloistered in his dressing room, and Gil was withdrawn (not too unusual), and not much else was happening. Well, there was always the intermission between the sets to hang backstage some more, so we went out to the lobby to "press the flesh" and hang there. The lobby scene was always fun, too, because we knew tons of people and wearing a backstage pass made everyone want to know you!

I wish I could remember a little more about Gil's set; we had seen him perform a number of times, and he was always excellent on stage-such a handsome, powerful champion for black rights-an ever-inspired poet and songwriter. Gil was usually very talkative between songs, but tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet.

After the intermission, Stevie-always a true Wonder-arrived on stage, very late, and announces without further comment that this evening's performance was being dedicated to someone very special.

Wonder could never turn in a really poor performance, but this show is not as energetic or stellar as some of his we'd seen-it wasn't bad -- just not "over the top." As Stevie returned to the stage for an obligatory encore, he is joined by Gil and Carlos Santana -- what a line-up! Now we're really excited! Stevie stepped up to the microphone and says that he has an important announcement to make. And, as this was twenty years ago, I can't remember his exact words, but his announcement went something to the effect … "Ladies and Gentlemen, this performance has been dedicated to my good friend, John Lennon. I am very sorry to be the one to tell you, but John was shot and killed outside his New York apartment earlier tonight…"And with that, and visibly shaken, Stevie, Gil, Carlos and Stevie's band began the night's final song, Imagine. They all exited the stage immediately upon its conclusion.I'll never forget that time, and I've always admired Stevie's courage for doing the show at all. We learned later that he was so distraught that he didn't think he could, yet he did-he did it for his fans, but even more importantly, he did it for his friend.

Bruce and I returned backstage to say goodnight to Gil, and we found him in tears, seeking solace in a bottle. Everyone backstage was in an emotionally devastated condition, as were the fans who made up that night's audience, and, of course, as were we.

While driving home to Cow Hollow across the Bay Bridge, we listened silently to an interview of John and Yoko on the radio, one that had been taped in New York just the previous day by local Top-40 DJ Dave Sholin, and, as it turned out, Lennon's final one. The interview was interspersed with many of John's songs, and no commercials.

Once home we gathered up our precious basset hound, Sir Presley Pancake, and walked down to the S. F. Marina a few blocks away. Many mourners had already gathered, standing around spontaneous altars of flowers, candles, incense and pictures of our slain hero, to sing his songs, to hold onto one another, and to pay homage to someone the world will never forget.

Rev. Kolleen Wheeler

2003-09-24T15:55:00.000-04:00

Gig Review with Jim Shortt
Below is a review of one of our performances from earlier this year by Jim Shortt, writer for "The Scene" magazine. WC1

JUKIN': At the Park Grocery (est. 1947) turned local charm juke joint, Southeast Houston style. I caught Johnny B. (AKA John Bockelman) and the Wildcats (marianland.com/citykingsfolder/wildcats.html) at their every other Sunday gig and jam session. The Wildcats are the Roadhouse Boogie band that burned up the Bay Stage at the 2002 Seabrook Music Festival before a jam-packed, raving audience. This night, twin lead guitarists Johnny B. & Kim Van Zant, drummer Rodger Weiss and bassist Gonzo (AKA Mike Gonzalas) made their instruments a part of them in their explosive fusion of guitar driven blues with straight-ahead rock and roll. All night, Johnny B. was at his best vocally, and that, friends, is front-rank. Here's how the set came down...

SHOW TIME: Petal-to-the-metal, Wildcat show time, that is. Johnny B. & the Wildcats hit the stage hot strokin' on Bockelman originals "Let Me In" and the searing rocker, "Get Along With Me." The big time R&R hammer of premier drummer Rodger Weiss melded with the driving lines of capital bassist Gonzo to produce the high voltage, blood boiling rhythm of over-the-top, prime rock. Johnny B and Van Zant, virtuoso guitarists both, traded gitty-up, get down rides. Wow, what an opening salvo! Next came a very well done cover of Freddie King's twelve-bar, back alley classic, "Love Her With a Feelin'." The best song of a mostly originals set was Bockelman's minor key, "Visit From The Devil," a voodoo hypnotizer to give Satan himself chills. This show was major rock festival stuff. Bravo! Bravo! FYI: I had to leave as players for the Wildcats hosted jam were arriving. A few I saw come in were bassist James Bastida; drummer David Bastida; and guitarists/vocalists Ronnie Walker, Rusty Carver and Bob Eaton.

2003-09-24T15:43:00.000-04:00

Cat Tracks with WildcatOne: The Seabrook Music Festival Experience 2003
With Tropical Storm Gracie moving in, this year's Seabrook Music Festival (SMF) was somewhat of a washout. Last year, and the year before that, Kim Van Zandt and myself, along with Rodger Weiss, ran the sound for the Bay Stage and performed one of the two years prior to this one with our band, Johnny B and the Wildcats. In 2001, we were rained out on the Friday night show. Last year, we played and the show went down in history as one of the best performances at the festival, ever. The SMF has been going on for years, and after last year's show, the SMF asked us to play this year on the Main Stage and be one of the opening acts for the Spin Doctors on Saturday night.

Well, things got screwed up at SMF's headquarters this year. They did not get insurance on the Main Stage. So there was no Main Stage this year. Then their scheduling got messed up, and they moved the festival up a month to the first weekend in September from the first weekend in October, then 2 weeks later, they moved it up another week to Labor Day weekend. That removed some of the bands, including the Wildcats, and Kim's and my sound system and lights and back-line of amps, drums and microphones. They were not pleased...hello? It looked to us like the tail was wagging the dog on this one. The main band that I play with, The Citykings, has played there every year since 2001, and we opened the show yesterday in light rain and some wind.

I didn't mind at all, since I had expected 100+ degree temperatures and the sun beating down on us for an hour and 15 minutes...they built the stage to face the sun all day long as it moves across the sky. The "roof" puts the shadow behind the drum kit, which is at the back of the stage. There is no shelter at all from the sun onstage at the SMF Bay Stage. Although my losses from not playing the Main Stage (my share: $125) and not running the sound (my share: $500) and getting Rodger's second set of drums out of hock to use for this weekend ($242) were staggering, except for the pawn shop money, it was money I never had, so life goes on as it was with or without those paychecks. The exposure and prestige of playing an opening slot for a big-time band would have been nice, and the management of the SMF was somewhat less than cordial to me when I showed up, even though I had nothing to do with any of their problems. That's the way it goes sometimes. I just shine it on. I was there to play guitar and sing with the Citykings at noon, and to play keyboards with Truth In Wine at 4:15.

When the Citykings played, the PA system went down three times during our set. The Citykings do something almost none of the other bands don't do at the SMF. We go onstage, plug in, and play for an hour and 15 minutes. There are no hassles no matter what happens. We just play. We played straight through the PA problems, we played straight through the rain, we played straight through the total chaos going on around us. We performed our album and almost got to "Papa Was A Rolling Stone" as a finale before time ran out, at which point we unplugged and walked offstage, packed up our stuff and split. The two years that I teched the stage while Kim ran sound from the booth, I had the most ridiculous situations come up with whining prima donnas that went beyond anything I could have anticipated....

"HEY! Why can't I hear my GUITAR?!?!?!" Try plugging it in. "HEY! What's wrong with this stupid direct box you told me to use!?!?!?" Unplug it from the "Instrument Out" hole and plug it into the "Instrument In" hole. "HEY! Why isn't the power on to my tuner?!?!?!?" It's on. remove it from direct sunlight and the LED screen will become visible. "No it's not!" Yes, it is. See? It gets yanked out of my hands and the ace steps up to the microphone and says "If we had competent sound techs here, this concert would be a lot better than it is!" Rodger had to step between me and the guy to keep me from registering my exception to his behavior, but that was just one instance of having to pamper and serve these small-time wannabes doing half-learned cover versions of mostly the same songs everybody else was doing.

So when the Citykings got up there, we did an hour and 15 minutes of songs we wrote that are going on our album that we're working on (and spending a small fortune on) and we did not utter one single word to the sound crew no matter what happened, and a lot happened. Play on. I sang into a dead mike three times. Just keep playing. The sound crew was apologizing and falling over themselves trying to get it fixed, and I just said, it's cool. We're gonna keep playing. And we did. I prefer not to talk about the business end of my music. It's a dirty, nasty business. It removes the spirit of why I play music in the first place...but sometimes it's necessary to point some things out. The backstage coordinators are two of the nicest ladies I've ever known, and they treat us with respect and kindness and we love them and they love us.

The Citykings' set, according to all who we talked to, was great. I couldn't hear anything but the amp they rented for the guitar players to use, a Fender Twin Reverb. It was not a good amp. There was no setting you could get on it that would allow for any "grit" in the tone. It was LOUD and CLEAN with tons of midrange and no sustain other than whatever you could get out of your guitar, in my case a 1979 Fender Stratocaster, run through a Boss GT-3 pedal board. They said the mix sounded just fine our front! OK, whatever. So after we did the set, my boy Nick and me went up the road to LaPorte and had lunch at Skillet's and dropped in on my old buddy Jerry Hawkins and I had his Citykings' T-shirt for him that I promised him a couple of months ago. He was delighted to see us, and we chilled out at his house for a while and then I took us back to the SMF for Truth In Wine's concert.

At the musician's meeting 2 weeks ago, I turned in a stage layout of Truth In Wine's set to the soundman. He told me it was all good and everything would be ready. When we got up there, he come over to me and said "I guess you'll have to sit this one out, buddy. I don't have enough stuff to hook you up..." I didn't say anything to him, but the guitar player, Wes, offered me to plug into his direct-box that his acoustic guitar was plugged into, and I accepted. Truth In Wine played an outstanding set. Lynn, the lead guitarist, played inspired slide guitar and his leads were excellent. His wife, Brandi, is the singer and the face and the voice of the band, and she sang her heart out and the crowd loved our music. I was very pleased with the use of the direct box, and I am thanking Wes for his thoughtfulness in giving me that connection in the middle of a hopelessly chaotic situation when we were setting up. The set got shortened by two songs by the SMF management, but it was OK; we'd made our point.

I was wet and tired after all that, so we didn't stick around much after we finished up. My friend the writer from Clear Lake told me to expect some excellent press from those two sets including pictures, and I appreciated him saying that. He backs up his words in print, too. Nothing he ever says is hollow. I got to see a kid play named Dalton that had just turned 13, and he can play circles around all of us. He was amazing. He put on a show that reminded me a lot of Stevie Ray Vaughan (who is still to this day the standard against which all others are measured in this region) and after he played we hung out and talked and he was asking me about my pedal board and we discussed which wah pedals are the best to use. I use a Morley Bad Horsie and he uses a Vox. The Boss wah feature on the GT-3 is not in my opinion much more than a token possibility. I use the pedal in a volume setting.

When we were leaving, Elijah and the Profits were just starting up. Elijah (Matt) is a profoundly gifted guitarist in his early 20's who does a 2-hour set of some of the juiciest, most compelling guitar lines I've ever heard. He is incredible, and he is a nice, down-to-earth kid offstage as well. It's funny to me how the most egotistical and self-absorbed rock stars are usually the ones who give you the most trouble and they cannot play up to the level that their personalities seem to maintain (and they manage to blame everyone but themselves for their half-baked performances), but the ones who are truly great onstage are the ones who are as humble and as friendly as you'd ever want to meet. I heard that with the storm moving right over us today, they're going to move the festival indoors for the last day to the Houston Yacht Club.

Would be fine with me if they had the whole thing indoors, anyway, but what do I know? I have not been able to quite define the purpose of having a Seabrook Music Festival, but I think it has to do with local sponsorships and charities that they support. The people running it appear to me to be ruling class. If they read this, I offer an apology if I am wrong about that, but that's how it looks to me. Let's have a little Woodstock. My involvement with it so far has produced some great music and some great friendships, as well as some people I have learned to avoid talking to and dealing with. So it's all been good. Today I'm supposed to record the Wildcats' first set at Park Grocery, an Ice House in South Houston. If the weather gives us a break and we don't get the 8-to-10 inches of rain this afternoon that they're predicting, I'll be there at 6 with my Les Paul and 12 original blues and rock songs to do and make a live album of our stuff. Kim's got everything we need to do this with, so it's gonna be fine, I have no doubt.

Thanks to Dangerous Bill for giving me the space to post these ramblings! Hope you enjoy it. See you there.

Wildcat

2003-09-24T15:13:00.000-04:00

Texas Beat with Danny White: Unleashed Live
For my first article at Dangerous Bill’s, I have chosen to do music reviews of new music by fellow Texans. I am proud to say that I am a native Texan. My favorite styles of music come from Texas. The CD I have chosen to review is the brand new release from Sony Music's Lucky Dog label, "Unleashed Live." The CD features three of the best alternative country performers out there today: the Robinson Brothers, Bruce and Charlie, and Jack Ingram. The recording happened earlier this year at the legendary Greune Hall, Texas's oldest dance hall in New Braunfels, Texas. The twelve-song format is simple -- four songs by each singer featuring their best-known work from the last couple of years.

The first singer, Bruce Robinson, is a very talented songwriter but to me he never seems to get a rhythm here on this recording. He does a good version of the Joe Dickens penned "The Good Life" from his second CD, "Long Way From Anywhere." He and his older brother Charlie Robinson do a duet "Rayne, Louisiana" where Charlie outshines his brother.

The third song is where Bruce hits his songwriter’s stride with "Angry All the Time," his introspective duet with his wife Kelly Willis. This song is best with just an acoustic guitar and let the biting lyrics do the talking. But here it’s done with the full band like on his first album, "Unwrapped."The set is finished with "Red Letter Day," a song that Bruce wrote and that he and his brother have separate versions of. Robinson and his band are off time on this one, too, and it falls short. Bruce Robinson is best on stage with just he & his guitar. A recent Dallas Morning News review of his Poor David's Pub concert said this recording does not do him or his excellent music justice.

Charlie Robinson was next on the CD and he kicked ass at this concert. The Greune Hall setting is more attuned to his hard, gritty style of country than his brother and the audience responded to him. The song he did first was his best known song, "My Hometown," about the legendary Texas town of Bandera. He and the band warm up on this song and they do a picture perfect version. The song "Sunset Boulevard " comes next. The audience can be heard singing along with him on this one. The song tells the story of a heartbroken man looking for ways to get over her. Charlie took some poetic freedom with this song. He changed the line about "hanging out with Charlie Sheen because if he would hang out with Kado Katlin he would hang out with me." Since Charlie Sheen has detoxed, Robinson replaced him with Monica Lewinsky in the song. Use your imagination about what he wants with her!

The third song is a hard, gritty piece about murder called "Loving County." He (Robinson) does two killings here: he kills the audience with this version along with the wife of Loving County's Sheriff, who was killed for the ring she wore on her finger. The song is not radio worthy because of the subject but is one of the best county songs of the last decade in my opinion.

The last song Charlie did was the catchy "Barlight," that he performed flawlessly with his band. The four songs Charlie Robinson did were all from his "Life Of the Party" recording for Lucky Dog. Robinson's band is very cohesive on tape with the musical lead interchanging of Robert Snell on steel with the tasteful lead guitar of Mike McAdam with added keyboard (sounding like a Hammond D-3) of Chip Dolan. Like I said at first, Charlie kicked ass and took names here.

Last but not least on the CD was Jack Ingram. Jack Ingram has been under respected for too long by those outside of Texas, but he’s making headway with several recordings made during last decade. He chooses his up-tempo songs wisely on this CD. Ingram begins with the spiteful "Mustang Burn." I still wonder if the inspiration came from the true story of Robert Earl Keen's car burning at a Willie Nelson Fourth of July. The photo can be seen on the cover of REK's "Picnic" recording. The song is excellent and the cover of "Picnic" comes to mind when I hear it."Work This Out," written by Ingram and Nashville songwriting legend Jon Lauderdale is next on the CD. This is a beautiful song with a mandolin taking the place of the usual twangy guitar. The song is top forty ready and does not sell out while doing it. The band hits a groove here and carries the song along.

"Travis County" comes next. This was supposed to be Jack Ingram's big break in country music. He appeared in the movie "Hope Floats" singing this song, but Ingram was screwed when he was dropped from the soundtrack for better known musicians. He does a killer version of this song here -- better than in the movie.

The last song by Ingram is the crowd favorite, "Barbie Doll." The song was written by
Ingram and Todd Snider. It’s a sarcastic, biting song about a woman who’s good looking but too much trouble. The audience is with him here and Ingram and the band deliver the goods. The spiteful, barb-riddled song is his best of the set and it shows. It’s the perfect song with which to end the CD.I give this live CD an 8 on a scale of 10 with Bruce Robinson's set holding back the great work of his brother and Ingram on the rest of the CD. If you like your country music raw and unadulterated, I strongly suggest getting this CD. This one is kick ass!

Danny White

2003-09-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

Bikester's Tales with Fred Vosk: Spanish Castle Magic
A best buddy of mine of many years ago named Norty went all through school with Jimi Hendrix. When they were in High School (Garfield High, Seattle), Hendrix had a little "sock hop" band and he also did a stand up Blues act, but he was too young to play in the (black) Blues clubs. So Norty and I used to pack him around to the local Rock 'n' Roll shows where he would play a free set or two of blues. The Rock 'n' Roll deals were pretty much all white kids back then, so Norty and I would always hang close in case there was any trouble. Needless to say, Hendrix was a great Blues Man, even then.

Had to sneak him out the back door of the "Spanish Castle" up on Hwy 99 more then once when it got a little outta hand in there.

Jimi wrote a great song or two about those nights at the "Castle." Route 99 is called Pacific Highway nowadays, but the Castle is still there, just down the road from the airport. It's a western bar now. Ought to be a plaque on the wall saying what that place was... Kinda doubt if they even have any Hendrix on the jukebox now.

Here's something I hadn't thought about in a long time -- 'til just now. Probably the closest we came to total carnage in those days.

It was one of those shows at the "Castle" that we drove Jimi down to... a BIG show. The Spanish Castle was where all the big outta town acts played in addition to the strong local talent. This one was "Jerry Lee Lewis," "Hank Ballard and the Midnighters," and I think "Johnny and the Hurricanes." Anyway, Johnny & the Hurricanes were kinda "white bread" (buncha saxophones), but Jerry Lee sure wasn't. And Hank Ballard & the Midnighters were BAD... and one of the first all-black acts to play up here at the weekly Rock 'n' Roll shows.

So as the deal went along and everyone was doing their thing, Jerry Lee and Hank Ballard and his Midnighters were getting really Drunk... and the show was getting wilder and wilder!

By the time the end of the show came (or what was to become the end of the show), they were all on stage. Hendrix and Ballard were doing some sort of weird screaming blues duet while Jerry Lee Lewis was dancing on the piano with a sorta young (gee, what a surprise) girl, and kicking on the keys now and then. In the background, you had all these very white guys playing saxophones. About that time Lewis started tearing the girls clothes off... and a couple of the Midnighters were dancing too -- with the (very young, it turned out) "WHITE" girl. The "jocks" in the crowd were getting cranked! ... And there were lots of jocks in the crowd.

About that time, the cops showed up, and right behind them was the Fire Department with a hose or two. Norty and I grabbed Jimi and headed through the kitchen for the back door. Kinda showed a Midnighter or two where the back door was too...

We didn't breathe easy until we were five miles down the road. And being that Norty's car was a chopped '53 Olds with lots of louvers and blue flames end to end, we still didn't quite blend into the traffic and disappear. Especially with me, Norty, and three black guys in the car. We ended up being the getaway car for a couple of "Midnighters."

Don't think Hendrix wrote a song about that one!

I saw Jimi's father Al many years later, and he was still talking about that night Jimi brought those "really scared" LA guys home. He thought the whole deal was pretty funny...

Actually, times haven't really changed that much... and maybe never will, unfortunately...

I didn't keep in touch with Jimi... He went in the Army and Norty and I went to California where there was year-round Drag Racing... and it was all happening...

For some reason the memories are flowing... so here's one last one...

Norty and I used to hang out in South Seattle. We were either at the "Barrel" drive in with Kalivoda and the rest hustling street races, or we'd be at this little record store on 23rd & Jackson that a buddy of Norty's (Bob Sumerii) had. The cool thing about the record shop was that it had a radio station in the back room. It wasn't a very powerful station, but it covered the south central area of town, which was mostly black. As was the record store and radio station (KYAZ, I think), it was the only thing that anybody in that part of town listened to.

Anyway, Sumerii went to the same school as Norty and Hendrix, but he was a couple of years ahead of them. He was in the same class as Quincy Jones. For some reason, Garfield High really cranked out the music talent. Sumerii's station was the first place ever to play Hendrix. Bob used to tape Jimi and then run the tapes. Norty and I would hang out there at night... we'd bring a big jug of apple wine (the beverage of choice), and do "black guy shtick" on the radio all night (kinda Amos 'n' Andy it up). Everybody who listened knew it was us "white guys," but they thought it was cool. We'd get free gas... free lunch... the whole deal in the central area. Saw Sumerii a year or two ago... he's some sorta big wheel with the Seattle Public Schools now...

Fred "Bikester" Vosk
fredvosk@bikesters.com

2003-09-24T15:07:00.000-04:00

Band Reviews with Dangerous Bill: Rob Maletick - Hand in Hand
Rob was on hand at the AJQ show at the McLean Hilton to show support for his pals. While there, I picked up a copy of Rob's latest CD. It's sweet. Rob Maletick is known as "The Gospel-Jazz Saxophonist." If you like smooth jazz from a sax, Rob's latest is worth a listen. This is soul healing music, the perfect stuff for curling up in front of a fireplace with a cup of tea on a rainy day. Feel the stress leave your body... If you have an event that calls for something sweet and soothing, Rob Maletick may be your man. Phone 703-867-3224 or email carrecords@aol.com. Rob's on the web at www.robmaletick.com.

2003-09-24T14:47:00.000-04:00

Band Reviews with Dangerous Bill: AJQ - Share the Experience
Dangerous Bill caught AJQ at the McLean Hilton one evening after a BAD day at work. Stress was coursing through DB's veins. Salvation came in the form of a call from ultra-sweetie Darla, who said, "Let's do happy hour." The combination of the MH's nice club, Darla and her great friends, and AJQ's FUNKY, soulful jazz was more than enough to turn my frown upside down. These guys work HARD and they are seriously tight for daytime working stiffs. Stuart Daily blows a mellow sax, Melvin Miles tickles the ivories with reckless abandon, and Steven Shipley keeps the bass thump going hard and strong. But the killer of this ensemble is drummer Cecil Isaac. Cecil's stuff is right there, just as musical as the other instruments. He's not just keepin' the beat; Isaac's sticks pull sounds and melodies out of the skins that are every bit as complex as the jazz variations woven together by his bandmates. But let me say again how FUNKY this band was. You cannot help but dance, and I mean that in the James Brown sense. There wasn't a lot of room for movin' around in there, but we got up anyway. If you get a chance to see AJQ, don't miss it. For bookings and information, call 301-937-0202 or email AJQmusic@aol.com. And whatever you do, don't forget to email me to let me know when their next gig is!

2003-09-18T14:23:00.000-04:00

Cat Tracks with WildcatOne: Close Encounters
I am not a perfect husband. My wife is not a perfect wife. We both have to live with those facts. In my experience, I have learned that marriage, for me at least, is a never-ending series of compromises, reaching levels and layers I never dreamed could happen. I never completely "get my way." I can only accept whatever gratuitous blessings I receive and try to deal with the losses. I have had some things happen that did make me realize that I am about as good a husband as I am capable of being under the circumstances, though. We have had a somewhat unique relationship. We've been married twice to each other. There was a 10-year-long divorce between us, but when we got back together in '95 and got remarried in '96, we both made the permanent commitment to each other forever.

As I understand it, the current statistic is that 80% of all married men are unfaithful to their wives, whether it's one time or all the time. And by unfaithful they mean that they have had an extramarital affair with another woman. The opportunity has come to me a few times, but I didn't go for it. Since I work a second job as a semi-professional musician in the Houston area, there have been some close encounters that have given me a chance to reflect once they were behind me. The most recent two times were this year. One was part of a gig I played in South Houston, and the other could have happened to anybody. Here they are.

Please note that these are adult situations and I'm using straight-ahead language and descriptions. If you do not wish to read these stories, please stop here and everything's cool. Thanks. Wildcat One

The Xcalibur Girl. In March of this year, I was going out one night to get some drive-through dinner for my family. I usually cook dinner now, but on this occasion, we all just felt like having some good old fast food. So, I went to the ATM down the street to get the money. I'm sure we have all noticed that a new kind of store has turned up in the strip-malls around our neighborhoods. They have blackened windows and they usually have just one word at the top. "Lifestyles." "Xcalibur." And so on. What these places are, well, they are little strip-joints where a guy can stop off on the way home and get a quick blow job. There are a few girls working there and they sell you a drink and turn their backs from you while the girl comes over and gives you a quickie. Of course, they are watching the parking lot while this is going on in case a cop shows up, but it's a place where a guy can walk in and with $50, get what his wife won't do for him after a stressful day on the job.

The ATM I use is right in the parking lot in front of one of these places. I got the money and as I was turning across the parking lot and making my way past the building, out from behind the wall jumps a young, beautiful and very sexy girl. She gets in front of the van and waves at me to stop. I stop. She comes around the passenger side, opens the door, and gets in. I was immediately hit with waves of perfume and fresh soap in the air. She had just jumped out of a shower. She says "Hi, Johnny. How ya doing?" I'd never seen her before in my life. I looked at her. I said "Uh, pretty good. How are you?" She says, "You want to spend some time with me? Take me to my place over on Bissonnet. It's near here. You got monies?" I said, "Well, yes. I'm going to KFC to get some food for my kids. Do you need a ride home or something?" She is looking at me and she goes, "Oh, that's OK. I thought you had money to spend on me. Listen, man, I'll see you later. I gotta go." She gets out, closes the door, and walks back behind the wall. I went ahead and split.

I realized that I had just been solicited by a prostitute... a very good-looking one, at that. Whether or not she was a cop and that was a sting operation, I don't know. Could be that her Bandito boyfriend was waiting over at her place on Bissonnet with a lead pipe in his hand to greet my head when we showed up. But right off the top, I was stammering to her that I am a family man and the last thing I would imagine doing would be to pay her some money for sex on a Tuesday evening. It's not that I'm a sexual dud or anything, but she ain't my wife and the thought don't enter my head to grab some chick I don't know and have sex with her, no matter how spontaneous the situation might be. I just went on and got the fast food. I never said anything about it to Debby and we all ate a nice, hot KFC dinner that night.

The Ice House Madonna. About a month and a half ago, I was playing the biweekly jam at Park Grocery, a big drive-in ice house in South Houston. Another band showed up and was playing the last set. It was around 10 minutes to 10 p.m. on a Sunday evening. I gradually started across the room, heading for my guitar cases and gig bag, to start packing up my stuff as soon as the band finished their last song. I was on a 45-degree collision course with Mary, the waitress there. We collided in the middle of the room and we did a side-step two-step and I said, "Well, what the heck. Let's dance." So, we danced for a few seconds. I gave her a twirl and sent her on her way to the office. No problem. I turn around and here's another chick standing in front of me with her arms open, smiling. She says "How 'bout me?" This lady had been there since I showed up at 5:30, drinking and partying and carrying on. She was good-looking, but by ice house standards, she was fucking Madonna.

I was not prepared for this. I said, "OK, here we go" and I went to dance with her. She jumped up and wrapped around me like a cheap suit. Ran her hand up the back of my neck into my hair and planted her mouth on my neck, and lifted her legs up off the floor and wrapped them around mine, holding onto my ass with one hand and the back of my head with the other, and she planted her crotch between my legs and she was moving up and down. She wasn't the least bit interested in my holding one of her hands with my other hand around her waist, like a gentleman would do. She mounted me in the missionary position, right in front of everybody. I'm like stumbling around carrying her and she's panting and heaving and sweating and just giving me the business, and I hear Ronnie the bandleader say "Johnny B's dancing, so we're gonna stretch it out..." and they did, for 7 1/2 minutes.

Thanks, Ronnie! The only place I could put my hands without her slipping off of me and falling onto the dance floor was to cup her ass in them. She loved it. The guy she had been with was a big redneck who didn't dance and he was eyeing this, stroking his long goatee. Everybody in the whole place was watching us. I put up my hands to him and I said "I ain't doing nothing to her, man!" He grinned and nodded to me, like "Go ahead." So I had to finish up that gig with this chick wrapped around me, wobbling around in front of the band. I was pretty flabbergasted by it. She wanted to hang on to me after the song finished. She was asking me about my van... but I politely went over to my stuff and started putting it up. She got the message and she went back over to her friend. I immediately felt a shock when she first jumped up on me. I knew it wasn't Debby.

It usually happens every time I play somewhere, some lady has had a drink or two and she comes up to me and flirts. I flirt, too, but in a good-natured way. Since I got married, I always wear my wedding ring. That has helped to curtail the libido that goes down at a gig for Johnny B and the Wildcats. But there are some that don't see it or pay any attention to it. I appreciate my wife understanding that I'm a musician and I play a wild set of songs -- most of which are about sex -- when I'm playing with that band. Johnny B has a reputation as a rock n' roll doctor, and the show that band puts on deals with a lot of clichés and innuendos that surround the inevitable outcome of a night of partying heavily in a club between two consenting adults.

I know, it's wild. It's rated "R." But they don't know ME. They couldn't possibly know whom it is they're talking to. I get paid, I pack up my stuff, and I go home to my family afterwards. It's a show, nothing else. Johnny B works for me. There have been a few times when Debby gets up and gives me and the band a spectacular dance that expresses desire and sexual passion. I turn around and the band is looking at me with their mouths open, and they look at Debby and go, Wow. That's something that kinda makes me proud, because it shows that the music is doing its job. I haven't been getting mixed up with ladies I don't know or ones I do know, for that matter. That incident just reminded me of how much I love Debby and how much I miss her when I'm out playing.

Even when I was single, I didn't get into the groupie thing...much. I had a few experiences with them and they always turned out to be nothing but trouble. Just not worth the payoff compared to the hell they could dish out afterwards. But now, it's not an option at all. I told Debby about it the next day. She asked me, "Did you have sex with her?" I said "No." She said, "Well, no harm done. She probably wanted to dance all night and that guy didn't dance with her and you were the only guy in there who'd dance with her and she did her thing on you." Well put, Deb. Thanks.

Like I say, I'm not perfect. Debby ain't, either. But somehow we've managed to stay together for seven years this time. Overall, it's the happiest and most well-adjusted I've ever been in my life. I want it to last forever. I suppose we could be a lot worse. As it is, we've kept our vows and lived up to them, for better or for worse.

Cheers, Wildcat One