It’s been 25 years since my first concert with this lady. We were 12 years old when my dad took my best friend and me to see Dwight Yoakam in San Benito, Texas. We stood behind a group of rowdy teenage boys who were drinking Miller Lite and swearing like sailors when my dad stepped in and posed as a TABC agent. That’s the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission, and I wouldn’t learn until a few years later that the acronym alone struck fear into the hearts of beer-drinking high-schoolers where I grew up. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for those boys to act right. We got to see Mr. Yoakam again recently – this time in Austin – and his inimitable twang took me right back to that show in 1992. If there’s a statute of limitations on impersonating an officer on behalf of your tween daughter and her BFF, I hope it’s run out by now.
A lederhosen-clad fellow at the Germantown Festival in Nashville, Tennessee, plays a hand-cranked Raffin street organ.
Behold Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grand Ole Opry from 1943-1974. We took a self-guided tour around the National Historic Landmark, which first opened in 1892 as the Union Gospel Tabernacle. Now, the popular Nashville music venue plays host to myriad performances and events. On this Saturday afternoon, the crew prepped for a sold out Lumineers show.
The scene looked a lot like this on Saturday morning as we arrived in Germantown. Men and women in lederhosen and dirndls lined up beside us for the annual 5K run/walk through the historic streets and farmer’s market of Nashville. At the finish line: A commemorative bier mug and complimentary Oktobefest brew. Obviously.
That’s Alice. She plays the canjo. Its long neck is made from reclaimed wood, then fitted with a single Banjo string and a can of SPAM. An empty can of the potted meat apparently produces better sound than, say, Campbell’s. In fact, each canjo is tuned to the key of D. I found Alice selling the instruments at Oktoberfest in the Germantown neighborhood of Nashville on Saturday morning.
On our way outta Dodge on Sunday, we drove past the now-notorious 40-foot neon Playboy logo and, er, Dodge Charger in the middle of the desert. The art installation went up quietly in June on the outskirts of Marfa, and it wasn’t long before disapproving locals filed a complaint, calling licensing and permits into question. Is it art or advertising? Stay tuned for the bunny’s fate.