I never played Vegas

So, I'm about a year behind schedule (on a bunch of stuff). Last year I'd thought about getting back to playing a bit (mainly for mental health reasons), after hanging it up in 1986 to go white collar. Then Paul Purtle hipped me to Santa Fe and The Fat City Horns last September. OhMyGod! The rest is blog history (and my great good fortune and pleasure) thus far.

I was lookin' at a U.S. map the other day. Gotta laugh; when I was a road musician I traipsed all over this nation (and Canada), from Boston to L.A., Vancouver, BC to Miami, and most everywhere in between beginning in 1964. The only states I never hit (besides NV) were Hawaii, Alaska, North Dakota, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine. I played gigs in every western state surrounding Nevada, but never gigged here. Now I live here and don't play. Duh.

But, that's fixin' to change. On Monday night Sept 18th, Santa Fe will not be at the Palms, so I'm gonna make a mini Las Vegas debut -- "just fer grins" -- at the very nice E-String Grill and Poker Bar in Henderson on Sunset (I think it used to be a Bennigan's, it's right down the hill from Viva Michoacan).

They got this singer/songwriter open mic night goin' down on Mondays starting around 8:30 pm, so I'm gonna get my neo-geriatric bootie back up on stage and do a few of my homemade tunes. The host is the gracious and cool Katie Logan, (below) who has encouraged me to come out.

I've started writing again, and am having great fun (I owe all of this new inspired enthusiasm to Jerry and the guys). Bought the first 12-string I've ever owned (above) and I am lovin' it. That's a lot of metal to push around. Man, the chops are comin' back up, arthritic, hoops-mangled fingers notwithstanding. I called Enrique (mp3) and asked him to come sit in with me. We're gonna run over few tunes this week. Anybody else wanna play, I would love it.

Gonna do my 25th anniversary song for my Sweetie, "Silver" (along with an old one and one of my newest).

I blink my eyes,
It’s been twenty five years;
Barrels of laughs
And a bucket of tears.
We’ve blowed a few tires,
Stripped a few gears,
But, baby, just gimme
Twenty five more years.

Now, we both know
There’s no guarantee,
’Cept the one at the End,
Good Lordy, me.
But, under the table
And under the sheets,
The world’s OK
When I can feel them feets.

We’ve got the silver,
Goin’ for gold.
Never been boring,
Never gets old.
Since the first day I met ’cha
I been totally sold.
Now, the silver’s in the pocket
And we’re goin’ for Gold.

Ninety one hundred
And thirty one nights.
A mess of good lovin’
And eight or nine fights.
There’s a big fire burnin’ up
All my fears,
Pretty baby, just gimme
Twenty five more years.

We’ve got the silver,
Goin’ for gold.
Never gets boring,
Never grows cold.
Just a couple of kiddies
With a few gray hairs,
I’ll be chasin’ ya
Long as I can climb them stairs.

I blink my eyes,
Twenty five short years;
A flood of good giggles
And a trickle of tears.
We throwed a few breakers
On the long ride here,
But, baby, just gimme
Twenty five more --
You’re the one I live and die for,
Pretty Momma, just
Gimme twenty five more years.

words and music Copyright 2006
Bobby Gladd, All Rights Reserved

Me and Johnny Walker Black wrote that one night eight years ago while I was cleaning out Sissy's apartment in Hollywood a month after she died. It was weird; lyrics for a hip-hop tune I titled "Suite Sissy Sue" and this one just jumped up and fell outa my head, in about a total of 30 minutes. Then, I never could find the groove for "Silver," so I just parked the idea, until about 2 months ago it just began to jell. The groove I found is sorta "John Prine meets Rascal Flatts meets Keith Urban meets Little Feat meets Kenny Loggins meets Bo Diddley." (Just added a last verse about two weeks ago.)

Go figure; Irish kid from Long Island who grew up diggin' jazz and urban black music, writin' all this eclectic country-fried stuff. Spent too many years in the Bible Belt, I reckon (some of my old demos from the early '80's are posted here).

I would love it if y'all would come out and make BobbyG nervous, LOL!

UPDATE, from the R-J

SWAN SONG

The Ronnie Foster Band made an unscheduled but dignified early departure from The Artisan on Thursday.

The jazz group, which has been Clint Holmes' band for years, was in the middle of its first song when owner Doug DaSilva rushed up and demanded the band stop playing.

If they continued to play too loud, they would be gone, he said in a voice loud enough for the crowd to hear.

Foster, who said on Friday that the music "wasn't even close to being in the vicinity of being loud," lowered the volume, and the group continued to the end of the 70-minute set.

Then, Foster announced to the crowd that the band was done for good at The Artisan, after four months of a Thursday and Saturday gig.

Apologies followed, but the damage was done, Foster said.

"It was very disrespectful," he added. "Unbelievable."

David Poire, the hotel's director of operations, said volume had become an issue with hotel guests "on numerous occasions."

Poire said The Artisan wishes the group "the best in all future endeavors."

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Diff'rent day, same [bleep]. Don't ever invest the first dime in acoustics, sound equipment, or lighting for a professional performance environment (or adequate valet parking). Just blame the musicians.