It was a beautiful spring weekend in the Hill Country, a little more than 10 years ago.  The grass was emerald, Onion Creek was clear and gushing (remember when that used to happen?), the sun was shining, and I was attending and camping at a multi-day music festival for the first time in my life and wondering to myself why I had wasted so much time in Houston before finally moving to the Hill Country.  I was really there to see my idol Bruce Hornsby, but I also decided to check out several acts that, I’m embarrassed to say, I had never heard of at the time:  Grammy-award-winning bluegrass artist Peter Rowan, Grammy nominee Michelle Shocked, and veteran Austin roots rock/R&B/jam band Flounders Without Eyes.  I left that festival being life-long fans of all of them.  And of course, the festival I’m referring to is none other than Old Settler’s, the first year it was held at the Salt Lick.

Flash forward 10 years, and I’ve now been fortunate enough to have played with all three of the above artists and recorded a live album with one of them.  My first time playing with Peter Rowan was with Flounders Without Eyes last May at the now-defunct Jovita’s.  The first thing I posted on Facebook after getting home from that gig was:  “there’s a reason why Peter Rowan is a living legend.”  I don’t know that I’ve really had very many, if any, transcendent musical experiences before that, but that show was definitely one.  This past Halloween down in Lockhart at the Purple Bee Halloween Hoedown, Mike Morgan put together a new backing band for Peter consisting of legendary drummer (just watch this) Jamie Oldaker, jazz guitarist Carter Arrington, Mike on bass, and me on keys.  Not only was this even more of a transcendent musical experience, but it was probably the most actual fun I’ve had on a stage in my entire life.  It doesn’t even feel like work when you are so in tune with what everyone else is doing that the music just flows naturally out of you and you don’t even have to think about where it’s going next or what role you have in it.

Well, apparently we weren’t the only ones who thought that that show was really something special, because I am pleased to announce that Peter has decided to bring us all on as his band, under the name Peter Rowan’s Twang & Groove.  This will be the first rock & roll band Peter has played in since he was 14.

Jamie is an absolute beast of a drummer, and he and Mike lock in a groove tighter than probably any rhythm section I’ve ever played with.  Jamie was one of the inventors of the “Tulsa sound” that Eric Clapton co-opted for his solo career, so sometimes he’ll start grooving on something that sounds like, for instance, “Lay Down Sally”, and I’ll have this sudden flash of insight that, oh yeah, the reason “Lay Down Sally” sounds that way is because of him!

Mike’s primary instrument is bass, but he has also played rhythm guitar with Flounders Without Eyes since 1997, as well as penned dozens of songs for that band and produced all but one of their albums.  His studio, The Zone, has also recorded the likes of Robert Earl Keen, The Flatlanders, Eli Young Band, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Butch Hancock– not to mention a little jazz fusion combo I was in called The Harmony Theory.   Mike has been producing, performing, and writing since 1968, and his credits include playing/recording with Allen Ginsburg and Peter Orlovsky, as well as a prolific songwriting collaboration with Arthur Brown.

Carter formerly played with Larry (a band with whom The Harmony Theory shared a stage several times, and incidentally a band that also played that first Old Settler’s I attended) and is a now a guitarist’s guitarist, backing up a who’s who of well-known Austin artists.  He produces a lush, rich sound that calls to mind Knopfler or J.J. Cale, and like those two guitar gods, he wields his power sparingly, but when he wields it, you had better hold onto your face.

(And, of course, you probably know all about the keyboard player by now.)

Our inaugural show will be at Antone’s on Wed, January 30:

Facebook event:

https://www.facebook.com/events/404513362964904/

Tickets ($17 in advance):

http://www.ticketfly.com/purchase/eventV2/195997?wrKey=B4CF4C8DF18257B5FFE4C407EEB92D78

Doors at 8, show at 9

We are also booked at Old Settler’s, 4/19-4/20 (time TBD):

http://oldsettlersmusicfest.org/

Expect more announcements soon!

Hope you can make it out on the 30th to help us kick off the new band in style.  It is certain to be like nothing you have ever heard before.  It is definitely like nothing I’ve ever played before– or rather, it’s like a combination of everything I’ve ever played before, multiplied by 1000.  Peter describes it as “where Rhythm and Blues meets Reggae at an all-day Bluegrass pickin’ party”, so if you don’t like the genre we’re playing, then wait five minutes.  It’ll change.

Greetings, comrades or Commandroids or whatever you think fans of a guy named “Commander” should be called.  I’ve been much remiss in sending out updates this past summer– a lot going on, including GregoFest in June;  a very productive week at Camp Bluegrass in Levelland in July; finishing up all of the recording on “Seven Cities” (including some killer Dixie Chicks-style backing vox by Andrea Whaley);  laying down keys on Mike Morgan’s upcoming solo album, which features Jamie Oldaker (former drummer for Eric Clapton & Bob Seger), Pat Manske (drummer for the Flatlanders), Keith Davis (guitarist w/ the Eli Young Band), Lloyd Maines, Carter Arrington (if some of you remember a band called Larry that used to run in the same circles with The Harmony Theory, Carter was their guitarist), and Jenny Mier from Flounders Without Eyes;  doing a mini-tour with Deadeye and Green Mountain Grass for Jerry Garcia’s Birthday Bash;  and probably other notable events that have slipped my swiss-cheese memory.

I tend to remember to update Facebook a lot more frequently than the e-mail list, so give me a Like at https://www.facebook.com/drcommander if you’re interested in more fine-grained doses of Commander.  I’m also on the Twitter @DRCPianoMan.

The main purpose of this e-mail is to let you know about a great festival that I (we) will be playing on Saturday Oct. 27 (a week from this Saturday, assuming you’re reading this before Oct. 20.  Otherwise, this Saturday.)  It’s called the Halloween Hoe-Down and will be held at Purple Bee Studios in sunny Lockhart, Texas, famous for barbeque and Christopher Guest films.  Flounders Without Eyes’ 20th anniversary show will be at 3 PM on Saturday, then I’ll be joining Mike Morgan, Jamie Oldaker, and Carter Arrington at 11:30 PM for the debut of our new band, The Rhythmic Statues (Mark II.)  We’ll be charging right out of the gate as the backing band for bluegrass legend Peter Rowan, who is headlining the festival.  I learned at Camp Bluegrass that every working musician has a “Bill Monroe Number”, which is basically the bluegrass equivalent of a “Kevin Bacon Number.”  Well, Peter has a Bill Monroe Number of 1.  ‘Nuff said.

I got a chance to play down at Purple Bee for GregoFest, and it’s a super sweet venue.  Very relaxed, no draconian rules or anything.  BYOB and a lawn chair and just hang out (actually, you don’t even have to BYOB this time around, since there will be free booze, thanks to a generous liquor donation.)  On-site pool with a great view of the stage (if it’s hot enough to swim.)  Festival passes are still on sale for $30 but will go up to $35 at the gate for those in costume or $40 without costume.  Everything you need to know, including the ticket link and lineup, is here: https://www.facebook.com/events/120142514798232.  Ticket price includes on-site camping for those who want to go on Friday as well.  Also performing on Saturday will be our old friends The Flying Balalaika Brothers and Deadeye.

Oh yeah, and I’m a 40-something now.  How the hell did *that* happen?!

Signed,
D. R. Commander
Austin’s second most vertically integrated musician

With the exception of Patrick Star, probably most of you have heard by now through my various wildly gesticulating Facebook updates that I’ll be performing with Flounders Without Eyes at Old Settlers Music Festival next Saturday (4/21) at the Salt Lick Pavilion (across the creek from the original Salt Lick in Driftwood, TX.)  This is going to be dialed up like a modem, y’all.  We’re closing the festival at 11 PM on the Bluebonnet Stage after Bob Schneider and JJ Grey and opposite Iron & Wine.  Yeah, you heard it.  I said it.  I stole my momma’s credit.  Very good chance that we’ll be performing one of my songs as well (you know, the one about a city.)

Tickets for OSMF are still available:

http://oldsettlersmusicfest.org/tickets/

For those who would like to check us out on the cheap, we will also be playing a free show at the Camp Ben McCulloch Pavilion (directly across the highway from the Salt Lick) on Wednesday (4/18) starting at 5 PM:

Bring your lawn chair, snacks, and BYOB.  We’ll be kicking off the campground show with a mini-set of reggae tunes (including several Peter Rowan covers), then doing a full set of our acoustic material from “What’s the Rush.”

For you Houston peeps, we’ll be playing the Last Concert Cafe (1403 Nance) next Friday (4/20) from 11:30 PM ’til probably 1:30 AM.  Yeah, I know it’s late.  Drink a mochaccino and sack up.

And have you bought your tickets yet for Peter Rowan and Flounders Without Eyes at Jovitas, Friday 5/18?  Doors at 7 PM.  We’ll open with a set of Flounders originals, followed by a Peter Rowan solo set, followed by Peter Rowan accompanied by Flounders.  We do expect this show to sell out.  Tickets are $15 in advance:

http://peterandflounders.eventbrite.com/

For those who aren’t familiar with Flounders, you should check out their back catalog, which is newly available on CDBaby (in the process of being pushed to iTunes as well) to get an idea of why I’m having so much fun playing with this band:

https://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/FloundersWithoutEyes

In short, they’re a combination of the best parts of every other band I’ve ever played with.  Our live CD from Old Settlers 2010 (that I played on) should be available on CDBaby, iTunes, and other online music stores soon.

(subject to change without notice)

• John Burr, “Spiderman Theme” (Alison Brown Quartet:  “Replay”, 2002)
• Michel Camilo, “A Night in Tunisia” (Michel Camilo:  “Through My Eyes”, 1997)
• Chick Corea, “Spain” (Chick Corea:  “Akoustic Band”, 1989)
• Russell Ferrante, “Rain Dance” (The Yellowjackets:  “Greenhouse”, 1991)
• Bruce Hornsby, “King of the Hill / Twelve Tone Tune / Mystery Train (Live)” (Bruce Hornsby:  “Intersections”, 2004)
• Ethan Iverson, “Big Eater” (The Bad Plus:  “These Are the Vistas”, 2003)
• Keith Jarrett, “Groovin’ High” (Jarrett, Peacock, DeJohnette:  “Whisper Not”, 2000)
• Herbie Hancock, “The Good Life” (DeJohnette, Hancock, Holland, Metheny:  “Live at the Mellon Jazz Festival”, 1990)
• Lyle Mays, “San Lorenzo (Live)” (Pat Metheny Group:  “Travels”, 1982)
• Bill Payne, “Whispering Waters” (Leftover Salmon:  “Leftover Salmon”, 2004)

For those who are curious about what I’m working on, in essence I’ve decided to embark upon an ambitious (read: borderline insane) quest to record and produce an album almost entirely by myself.  The project, entitled “Seven Cities”, is a concept album consisting of an eclectic mix of folk/rock, country, and R&B with a decidedly late 70’s flavor, influenced by diverse artists such as Dire Straits, Steely Dan, Ronnie Milsap, George Benson, Fleetwood Mac, Paul Simon, Eddie from Ohio, Waylon Jennings, Gordon Lightfoot, Bruce Hornsby, Alan Parsons, and Bruce Springsteen.  The plan is to mainly release the album on vinyl and on popular download services, with a possible limited CD run for local sales and promotion.

“Seven Cities” represents a sort of musical road trip across North America and back, exploring love and loss against the backdrop of urban skylines, small towns, and scenic western vistas. The name calls back the expedition of Coronado, who searched all over North America for the fabled Seven Cities of Gold but ended up finding only a rich and beautiful land, a treasure which was ultimately more valuable than gold. In the same way, the songs in “Seven Cities” tell stories of our own personal searches for gold and how we rarely find it but sometimes manage to find ourselves in the process.

Track list:

1. “The Way We Started” – a musician falls in love with an actor but discovers that the only way to her heart is through her ego.

2. “Dead to the World” – a pair of film directors burn so many bridges that one of them ends up unable to get any work other than directing porn with actors and crew whose egos far exceed their talents.

3. “Atlanta” – a man abandons a promising relationship, ostensibly because he’s homesick for Atlanta, but really because he’s afraid to commit.

4. “The American Dream” – a woman moves to a Midwest city to find love, but failing this, she ends up in a loveless marriage just so she can avoid living alone.

5. “Jennifer” – a man is afraid to tell a woman how he feels, for fear of losing her as a friend.

6. “The Blacksmith Shop” – during Jazzfest, a pianist partying at the oldest bar in North America is asked, out of the blue, to sit in for the legendary Johnny Gordon.

7. “Hill Country Rain” – a story about the epic flash floods along the Lower Guadalupe River and the people that continue to rebuild in the flood plain despite the danger.

8. “One-Way Line” – a musician ponders the breakup of his marriage as he rides the SkyTrain into Vancouver.

I guess our first clue that this wasn’t exactly “our crowd” should’ve been the fact that we were the only ones in the room not sporting some form of exotic piercing, primary-colored hair, or black Godsmack T-shirt. Of course, the original plan had been to gig our way out to New Orleans and spend a whole weekend there, and had that plan not fallen through, it wouldn’t have been such a great disappointment to discover that the music showcase that was billed as the “New Orleans version of South by Southwest” was actually more along the lines of the “Shreveport version of ‘Star Search'”– but with a decidedly heavy metal focus. As it stood, we arrived late Saturday night due to a Saturday morning fiasco that I won’t even get into, so we barely had enough time to drink a requisite hurricane and watch our rhythm guitar player throw the dice a few times at Harrah’s before hitting the sack.

We were supposed to play at around 12:30 PM on Sunday, but the showcase was running way behind. It was virtually guaranteed that we wouldn’t play until 2:00, after which we had to turn right around and drive 9 hours back to Austin. In a nutshell, our chances of getting anything productive out of this event were about the same as the odds of the Saints winning the Super Bowl (editor’s note: remember when this was written.) I can say one positive thing, though, which is that the college-aged headbangers in the audience responded well to our two songs– surprisingly well.

But then we got to meet the alleged reps from the alleged label, all of whom looked to be younger than the pair of socks I was wearing at the time. The first was at least trying to be helpful, but his comment was something to the effect of: “Hey, have you guys ever heard of a band called Phish? You should maybe model yourselves after them.” He had no way of knowing that we had been there, done that, printed the T-shirt, and were now trying desperately to break out of the mold and be taken seriously as a jazz fusion ensemble. From our point of view, it was one of those moments in which you’re imagining the worst thing that someone could possibly say, then someone actually says it. He then proceeded to criticize us for having “two rhythm guitars and no lead.” Apparently in the metal world, if a guitar plays separate and distinguishable notes, it’s not considered a lead guitar. The second rep (who looked to be the oldest of the three, a woman of maybe 25) had one useful piece of advice, which was that we all needed to quit our jobs and tour a lot if we ever wanted to make it big. True, and perhaps if we were playing any other genre, we would have some hope of doing that while avoiding starvation. The third rep got straight to the point:

Him: “I guess I’m just wondering why you’re here.”
Us: “Because … you invited us?”
Him: “All you have to do is turn on MTV to see the type of acts we’re looking for.”
Us: “You mean ‘The Real World?'”
Him: “Do you have some idea of who your target audience is?”
Us: “Your … parents?”

The year was 2002. I had been living in Austin almost 2 years and playing with a country dance band for about 18 months, mostly in the greater Bastrop/La Grange/Elgin metroplex. We played a lot of Bob’s Country Bunker sorts of places (including a few with actual chicken wire) but had also stumbled into a couple of decent gigs opening for Kevin Fowler and the like. I was already starting to become disenchanted with the band by early August of that year. Maybe it was having to drive 90 minutes round-trip every week to rehearse in the smoke-filled back room of the lead singer’s double-wide. Maybe it was the fact that I had, in a youthful daze, invested my own money into recording an EP and buying equipment for the band, and it was looking unlikely that I would get any of that back anytime soon.

I had already made initial contact with another band, a jazz fusion ensemble, when an offer came in for us to play the 2nd Annual “Rosanky Musical Festival & Biker Fun Run” in Rosanky, Texas. The lead singer apparently knew the organizers, who apparently somehow managed to book David Allan Coe (a feat that, in hindsight, wasn’t as spectacular as it seemed at the time.) Pauline Reese opened for us, and we opened for David. Even though we had a huge stage, David insisted on setting up his back line literally 10 feet from the front of it, so we were practically dangling our toes off of the edge while we played. I had invited my friend Liz, a lawyer at the time, who had invited her friend Crawford, also a lawyer. Liz’s first impression was: “I felt overdressed by virtue of the fact that I was wearing a bra.” At one point, one of the bikers approached her and said, “Hey, nice shirt. Wanna trade?” That pretty much sums up the general gestalt of the place.

Having finished a set that was among the better ones we had played as a band but still possibly among the worst country music ever to have been purveyed within 50 miles of Austin, I packed up my gear and joined Liz and Crawford on the grassy knoll to watch David. He was totally phoning it in, perhaps because he wasn’t that interested in playing for a crowd of dozens in Rosanky, Texas but really needed the money … or perhaps because, at the end of the day, he’d rather be performing “P**** Whipped Again” instead of “You Never Even Called Me By My Name.”

At some point during David’s set, our fourth drummer in a year stumbled by us so piss drunk that he didn’t even recognize me. On his arm was a local woman sporting Daisy Dukes and a tube top (and having no business sporting either), Tammy Faye Bakker makeup, and a hairdo that would have necessitated driving a car with a sunroof. She looked intently at Crawford, who was holding his newly-purchased genuine Rosanky Fest T-shirt. “Heyyyyyyyy….”, she said, leaning in close enough that he could tell exactly what brand she smoked. “Uh, hey?” he replied quizzically. “Yew wohnt may ta sahn yer shiiirt?” Crawford was a deer in headlights, but she unfortunately elaborated. “‘Cause Ah’m f***in’ the druhmmer …” And of course Crawford couldn’t pass up that opportunity.

Liz had only one thing to say. “Dude, you owe me. Big.”