DFW is DBR

My friend (and long-time drummer/background singer) Andy Crawley used to point out places where he'd played drums before and call them DBR's. It stands for "Done Been Rocked." We'd just be driving down the highway and we'd pass some church building or other venue, and he'd be like "that there's a DBR." Only Andy could pull that off and not sound like a total idiot.

What does that mean for me? Oh well, it's not like I've never sounded (looked, smelled, etc) like an idiot before...

Had 4 great concerts this past weekend. Here are the basics:

Thursday in Fort Worth was great. Our old pal David “Pez” Lobban sat in with me on percussion, and he did a fantastic job. We hadn’t played together in a few years (we’re getting old, Pez), and he’d only heard most of the songs for the first time that day, but he nailed it. Pez has always been a real pro and a joy to work with, and this was no exception. There were maybe 25 people at the show, including some Aggies. Good conversations afterward. Big thanks to Aaron Finch for organizing.

Pics:

Friday night was great too. Brady Redwine, The Man Who Can Play Anything, came out to join me on the dobro. Robert Conn organized the event, and I invited him to sit in on djembe for a few tunes as well. Both of them did great. Robert was nervous, I think, but he laid down the groove like a pro. It’s crazy how gracious God is to me. If I told you how much I usually “rehearse” with the various people that play with me, you’d be ashamed to be my friend. I hate practice. I just have such a low-maintenance, hippie-organic (read: lazy) approach to performance, it’s really a miracle that it always comes together the way it does. I guess it helps that I usually work with professionals and geniuses and such.

There were probably 25-30 people at the show, and nobody booed me or yelled obscenities during the slow songs.

Pics:

Also, at the suggestion of pretty much everybody, we had dinner that night at Babe’s Chicken House (thanks to the Conns for picking up the tab). People kept telling me how good this place was, but I was (of course) skeptical. Well, consider me a believer. This Babe, whoever he or she is, can whip up a mean meal. Babe is to cooking what ninjas are to face-kicking. I consumed that food vigorously and entirely. Allow me to elaborate:

If I could’ve been guaranteed a shower after the meal, I’d have taken off my shirt and rubbed the cream corn on my chest in hopes that it would just sink into me like a corn-osmosis. I would've worn the chicken fried steak like a hat; an ugly but edible hat that would warm me when I'm cold and fill me when I'm hungry.

I would've drank the gravy like milk at the bottom of the cereal bowl. I would’ve had a gravy mustache and maybe the Babe’s marketing staff could’ve taken a photo of me to use on a billboard that said “Got gravy?” But there wasn’t time. I had to play a concert. So sorry, Babe’s, this little plug will have to suffice until we can nail down that billboard idea.

I liked the food there at that Babe's place. That's what I'm trying to convey here.

One more thing: Robert and Shelly Conn are some of the coolest people on the planet. Staci and I really enjoyed talking with them and sharing some life. Their son Levi worries me, and that Bobby Cates fellow is questionable, but the Conns are officially “in.” If you don’t know what “in” means, you aren’t. But fret not. I take bribes, flattery, and chicken fried steak as non-refundable “in” club deposits.

Saturday night was another winner. My in-laws Nicky and Vickie Otts were the gracious hosts. They had about as many people as they could fit in their living room: maybe 30. Brady came out again and sat in on the dobro. Man, that kid is a ridiculously good musician. I had to play louder a few times because people were starting to listen to him more than me, and Ross King will not be upstaged by any man, woman, child or beast.

No pics from that night, which is actually kind of a miracle, since I’m pretty sure my mother-in-law has pictures from every single event that has ever occurred ever. If scrapbooks ever become currency, Donald Trump will be her pool boy.

I’d like to believe that she was so enthralled by her son-in-law’s brilliance and wit that she found herself hypnotized and unable to move. Or that she felt that this was the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced and that a photo would only cheapen it’s life-enriching vivacity.

Or maybe she just knows that I’m always a pain in the tail when she tries to take my picture, so she let me have a night off to enjoy myself.

Whatever. It was a fun night. Big thanks to my in-laws for believing in me and inviting their friends to do the same. It’s hard to express (and I’m actually talking serious talk here) how thankful I am to have married into such an amazing, generous, and loving family. I went and married their first-born daughter who is now the wife of a guy who plays concerts in living rooms. Not exactly every parent’s dream. But they have been nothing but gracious and welcoming to me these many years. Big thanks!

Sunday morning I was tired as can be, but I had one more concert to do. I drove out to Mesquite to play at a satellite campus of Lakepointe Church in Rockwall. This could’ve been a really great story, since the Mesquite campus uses a “via satellite” video feed for their sermon. But I decided not to play “Happy.” I asked Ky Martin, who invited/hosted me, if I should play it and he said, "if you do, I'd play it last." I thought that was funny. He was trying to give me freedom, but he was warning me that everyone would probably leave if I took it.

I played for a small-ish singles class and, I don’t know, once I got in there and started hanging out with the folks, I just felt like my limited time there would be better spent encouraging them. instead of subtly implying that their church is an evil empire that God will soon destroy with a meteor (I've been told that "Happy" conjures these kinds of happy thoughts, though I assure you that's not an inference that I endorse). Maybe I’m becoming a softy in my old age. Either way, it was a fun and soul-connecting concert. I really enjoyed the people, and they were kind and welcoming to me. Thanks to Ky Martin for the invite and the chance to share with your people.

All in all, a great weekend. I “sold” around 120-150 CD’s (I haven’t counted them yet), I made some decent money, and the feedback was great. Thanks again to all the hosts, organizers, etc.

Next house concerts will be in a couple weeks, when I return to PA/MD for a short tour with Michael and Ben.

Thanks to all of you who have emailed me and my family concerning my brother. I'll post updates here periodically.