I took the wife and kids (God, I sound old) to Murfreesboro, Tn to see all
the kinfolk prior to my leaving the country to get my ass shot off by
pissed off Yogoslov's and Iraqi's.
Loading a wife, a four month old, a 6'1" 230 lb 15 year old, and my little
petite ass self into a Ford Bronco for an 800 mile road trip is not a task
recommended for the faint of heart. I guarentee that it is impossible to
drive more that 25 miles before someone has to pee or complains about being
bored and hungry. It took forever for us to get on the road anyway, and
once I get started, I don't like to stop at all, but at the risk of life
and limb, I had no choice.
North Carolina is still under construction. Them folks wil not be happy
until the entire state has been covered with asphalt. I made it though
there alive without getting any tickets, running anyone off the road, and
only one flat tire. On Black Mountain no less.
At some ungodly hour of the morning we left the under construction North
Carolina and crossed over into the Great State of Tennessee, home of the
Nationial Champion Tennessee Volunteers, and Lady Volunteers. It's hard to
describe the level of joy that sprang into my heart when I saw that sign
that said Welcome to Tennessee and I knew that I had finally returned to
civilized country. Interstate 40 through Tennessee is a dream road. It
could'nt be any better if they paved it with gold. As you are whipping west
toward Knoxville at an extreme rate of speed, (speed limits in Tennessee
only pertain to those with out of state plates), playing George Jones with
one hand fiddleing with the radio, while simultainously trying to get the
pacifier back in the babie's mouth, lighting a cigarette, telling the 15
year old that you've listened to all the devil music you're going to listen
to today and if he don't like it he can walk home, flipping off some
Canadian that's slowing you down by only doing 75 in the fast lane, while
listening to the wife scream in mortal fear of plummeting off the road into
the chasm down below, you realise that you are back in the promised land.
Outside of Knoxville I picked up WDVX-FM, that radio station that Shane
Rhyme works at. All Hillbilly, All the Time. It was musical manna from
heaven. At 3:30 am, tired of listening to the family ask "Are we there yet?
Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" ad infinitum, we pulled into a Super 8
motel in Knoxville.
The next morning I woke up to -40 degree temperatures and 4" of snow on the
ground. We tryed to get hold of Shane who was nowhere to be found and then
went and spent the day with my cute, unattached 25 year old sister with the
Masters Degree from UT in German who has a cute apartment and makes $20 an
hour as a translator/software designer for an educational software company.
Shane Rhyme is such a loser. I wanted to get up to Maryville to visit with
Tut Taylor and pick and eat biscuits but my son kept bitching about getting
on the road and getting there so he could spend some time with his Aunt Tim
and Uncle John who are fun to be around and not boring and old like his
parents are. We left out of Knoxville late that afternoon. I got to listen
to Shane's show on the radio while my son made fun of the music. Next time,
I'm duct taping his ass to the hood and he can ride like a deer. I even got
a chance to hear a song by P2's very own Nancy Apple. After I got out of
range of WDVX, I flipped the radio over to WSM AM650. Eddie Stubbs is the
man!!
The folks were great. The loved, and tryed like hell to spoil my new
daughter. Monday Night I went to Nashville to see Elena SKye and the
Demolition String Band. Alas, I got to the gig just as they had finishe up
their set. Bummer. I found Elena and walked up to her and said, "I'm sorry
I missed your set, But I hear that y'all sucked anyway". It's important to
always try and make a good first impression. I hung out with them folks for
awhile and did some picking and singing with them back in the Hotel room
that overlooked Webb Pierces guitar shaped swimming pool while people I
didn't know were smoking funny cigarettes. Nothing illegal, just some
shamans blend of herbs and spices that was supposed to clear out your
lungs, chase away evil spirits, and simultainously cleanse your colon. It
was a good time until they pussed out, told me they were tired, and that I
had to go.
Tuesday night, I finally hooked up with my buddy Scott Rouse at a recording
studiop in town. An artist who I am not allowed to name was recording a
record for a label I am not supposed to name. It was interesting. The
coolest thing was that GLEN DUNCAN was playing on the session. Seems that
Jason Carter had originally been asked to play, but since it was a late
session, and after his curfew, they got Glen instead. Actually, he's a nice
guy. We talked about Monroe some, then found out that Duncan is a Navy
buff. Cool.
The rest of the trip was spent with my brother trying to spoil my son while
my parents tried to spoil my daughter. I wanted to visit with more friends
while I was in town, but most of thoose losers were away at SXSW, and I was
busy watching my folks to make sure that they didn't tell my kids anything
at all about what I was like as a kid.
The highlight of the trip though had to be Eddie Stubbs and WSM. It makes
driving so much easier when you have good radio to listen to.
Right now, I am trying to get the Sayafuckinara issue of the TWangzien
together, pack for my upcoming 6 month spiritual journey, clean the house,
wash clothes, and spend time with the fambily. I'm gonna miss you deviant
bastards.
Jeff Wall
http://www.twangzine.com The Webs least sucky music magazine
3421 Daisy Crescent - Va Beach, Va - 23456
