Hot Rize Memories

I think I've written about this before, but back in the mid to late eighties, I was caught up in many entanglements that caused a lot of heartbreak for several people. All water under the bridge now, but I still wince a bit thinking about those days. The souveniers from those days are embodied in the form of my many bluegrass records. I bought these discs at a fanatical clip, searching for that high lonesome sound to fill the high lonesome feeling of my heart. One group I was passionate about was Hot Rize, a quartet based out of Colorado, a band that I saw several times as a headliner and on the bill at various bluegrass festivals.

A week or so ago, I respun, for the first time in many a year (more bad water under the bridge) four of their records--"Hot Rize"; "In Concert"; "Traditional Ties"; "Untold Stories"-- and two of their records as their comedy Western Swing/Honky Tonk/Country Boogie alter-ego, Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers--"Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers" and "Shades of the Past."

How do these records hold up? Mighty fine, as Red Knuckles might say. I wondered if they might sound too slick and bloodless--as bluegrass records made by super hotshots with the advantages of modern studios sometimes ended up--but not really. Hot Rize managed to straddle the line between so-called New Grass slickness and "traditional" mountain soul. They were led by the multi-instrumentalist lead singer Tim O'Brien, the slightly experimental (he used effects on his banjo) banjoist Pete Wernick, the late flatpick guitarist Charles Sawtelle, and the deep voiced and handsome Nick Forster on electric bass. They were extremely witty, had great chops, tons of soul, and seemed like guys you'd want to hang out with at a bar.

Their Red Knuckles incarnation was a highlight of their show when they'd leave the stage as Hot Rize and return in Western drag to play country obscurities and novelty tunes. Even though it was played for laughs (comedy alter egos is a time honored tradition in country and bluegrass), the Red Knuckles act allowed the Hot Rize guys to display their electric instrumental chops. For example, bassist Nick Forster as his Trailblazer alter ego, "Wendell Mercantile," showed that he could play smooth, swinging lead guitar lines.

Another interesting thing about the Trailblazers is that they played a couple of classic songs, "Honky Tonk Man"; "Always Late," that Dwight Yoakam had hits with. One of their best schticks was that they would play rock songs in the western swing style (They were always promoting a fictional album, "Red Swings the Sixties."), which Yoakam also did a couple of times. So, shouldn't this fictional band get some credit for helping to kick start the New Traditionalist country movement of the eighties?

Although they broke up in the late eighties, early nineties, Hot Rize occasionally reforms. They usually play the San Francisco Hardly, Strictly Bluegrass Festival, but I'm always at work when they're on stage.

Check 'em out. You can probably find their records for cheap in the used vinyl sections. Maybe there's a comprehensive CD comp, but I'm not sure about that.

Coming up next: Howlin' Wolf.

A couple of good books I've read recently: Jeanette Walls's memoir, "The Glass Castle," and my third reading of Richard Ford's "The Sportswriter."

Build Me a Heaven of My Own

Can I still write?

I ask this question while spinning a Lightnin' Hopkins Fantasy Records two-fer called
Double Blues. I love this collection of recordings from 1964. The most memorable song is called "I'm Going to Build Me a Heaven of My Own," in which Mr. Hopkins creates a heaven in which only women and himself are allowed. At one point in the narrative, he even has to tell "Mr. J.C." that he isn't allowed in. Why do I love Lightnin' Hopkins? Because of his whiskey and cigarettes Texas drawl, the simple warm sound of his amplified guitar, his cool conk and his ever-present shades. He made a gazillion records for anyone who'd pay him. Sometimes it seems as if he's having a conversation with you as much as singing a song.

I guess that's the spirit of autobiographical storytelling that I'm trying to capture in my 'zines and proposed book. Lately, though, I wonder if I'll ever be able to get a manuscript done. For the past six months or so, I've been showing my work to a group of writers who have been less than impressed with my way of telling the tales. They are good writers whom I respect, but I'm so worried about following all of their varying advices (so to speak) that I've gotten completely lost. I don't have this problems with my 'zines because I only show my drafts to the Psychedelic Eskimo and she sees them fairly late in the going. I got enough praise from my 'zine readership that I figured the next step had to be a book, but now I don't seem to know how to write one.

Well, phooey to all that. I'm just showing first drafts to the group. It's my life, not theirs, and I'll just have to put up with their criticisms as I work out the form and content. I think ol' Lightnin' would agree.

In addition to Double Blues, I've also been spinning Lightnin' Strikes and Low Down Dirty Blues, two cheapo Hopkins collections I bought back in the eighties. Of varying sound quality, but perfect day off records.

Since I'm back to playing alphabetical vinyl, maybe I'll resume the CD's. The question is whether or not I can bear to listen to all my Steve Earles. Love him though I do, I'm pretty burned out on his stuff. I did recently play Guitar Town, Copperhead Road, and Train 'a Comin', so I guess I can bear to plow through those discs.

I'm currently reading "Raise Up off Me," by Hampton Hawes. It's a no-holds barred memoir of the bebop life. It includes a thought-provoking analysis of why so many of the bop pioneers were neurotic hop heads. I wonder if I have any records with Hawes playing the piano?

Finally, I'm pretty smitten with The Fall these days. Pray for me.