The lyric goes, “For God and Texas, I hope Fannin’s on his way.”
The wet earth, as if from rain, along the northern edge of the trail, Saturday around noon. The aromatic fragrance of fresh-cut lumber, redolent with that sense of sap, in a construction area. Lavender, along the edge of the trail by the freeway. Hot grease, with piquant spices – TexMex cooking.
While I was away, my Virgo neighbor left a message, “ACL [Austin City Limits> ticket to the Robert Plant taping tomorrow night, want to go?”
Now, I’d refused a single ticket to that show about a week ago, but I didn’t think that was any big deal, as I did make arrangements for a taping I would definitely like to see, in a month or so. But put like that, and having nothing on the schedule, sure, why not go to hoity-toity ACL taping?
“So how about tonight?” I asked, because a couple of buds had sent me an e-mail telling me that they had worked themselves in at Ego’s, just down the street and around the corner from the trailer park, just past Threadgill’s, “got some friends playing over at Ego’s.”
We hiked up to Guero’s and had ourselves a mighty fine plate of fajitas, then rolled down the hill again to Ego’s, and I really needed some help.
Looking at the diverse crowd, I asked what anyone had in common with anyone else?
My perspicacious Virgo friend pointed out that they all 1> knew where the place was, and 2> could stand Ego’s [smoky> environment.
The opening act rocked right along, I forget the band’s name. At one point, though, it was little bit of everything absolutely no common thread amongst any of the patrons. No taxonomy could fit this group. Punk, preppy, middle-aged, old age, kids. A little of everything. The guy on stage was working a harmonic rather adroitly, and the TV behind the bar had a football game on. The place is strewn with Xmas lights.
The guy at the front door taking the cover charge was wearing an AssJack [Hank III> T-shirt. I commented about that, and replied, “You know, it’s not Black Flag.” No, it’s Hank III. The guy in line behind me, cowboy hat, boots, jeans pressed right, tried to hand me money for the cover charge.
Only made it through my buddies’ first set, but they closed with my favorite, where that line’s from. Plus they do a Townes van Zandt song incredibly well. And of course, they cover Golden Earring’s “Slipping into a twilight zone,” only with a banjo.
