For someone who regularly grumbles at sunny weekdays observed through the prison bars of my office window that then give way to rainy weekends, I have to give ups to the Universe for dealing Baton Rouge two stellar weekends, weather-wise, in a row. Even two lines of storms passing through saw fit to do their dirty work late at night or in the wee hours of the morning on both Saturday and Sunday this last weekend, leaving dawn clear and cool and the days sunny and warm.
I had all my family, including Busterphus J. Dogg, in town for the weekend, so I can’t say that it was all that relaxing. Pleasantly enough, though, most of the busyness was accomplished at the dinner table. On Saturday alone a belated birthday meal for my dad at Parrain’s occasioned my dispatching a dozen oysters and a heaping platter of crawfish etouffee, along with samples from most of other people’s plates. Not an hour removed from that meal and I found myself face to face with a homemade pound cake my aunt and had made for the celebration, replete with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. My mother proceeded to show me the recipe in the River Road Cookbook (#1 I think). One POUND of butter!?!?! Pound cake indeed.
In between trips to the Farmers’ Market, games of ball with Buster in the backyard, and a trip over to campus to watch the Lady Tigers handily up-end conference rivals Ole Miss, I found time to sneak off on Saturday night to meet up with Professor Fury to catch Bill Callahan‘s show up at Chelsea’s. Truth be told, I have little to no true indie rock cred so I constantly rely on the benevolence of my peers to keep me informed when a show worth seeing, by someone I’ve never heard of, comes to town. Professor Fury began lobbying me to attend this one during the Spanish Town Parade and I knew he was serious about it when he had enough cognitive fortitude to recall that discussion amidst the surrouding debaucheries and later implore me at least two more times to make my face shown.
His insistence was well founded and I’m glad I don’t have to read the Professor’s latest missive and kick myself for not being at what was a superb night of music. I’ll leave you to read his review for words much better rendered in regards to the show’s specifics, though I will say that listening to Bonnie Prince Billy and Papa M over the years, both label-mates with Callahan on Drag City, that the idea they are/were ‘post Southern-rock’ is a thought that never once crossed my mind, which is funny considering that for someone who usually eschews the need to label music, ‘post rock’ is a genre I’ll not only recognize, but gladly gravitate towards. Listening to Bill Callahan on Saturday night, though, I was instantly struck with the notion that this was indeed ‘post Southern-rock’ and now I’ve got a few albums to go back and listen to with this thought in my head, especially, Papa M’s Whatever Mortal.
And that’s about enough rambling from me on matters of not much consequence. Wednesday night, hopefully devoid of clouds, occasions a lunar eclipse in this neck of the world and Maddie Potter and I are looking to take a drive out to my grandparents’ house in the countryside to take in the spectacle. There are some interesting myths surrounding eclipses, a few of which you can read about here. The general consensus across most cultures seems to be that when the moon disappears or turns blood-red, the best course of action is for everyone to make A LOT of noise. I wonder if my grandparents have a cowbell.