THE MARCH TO MEMPHIS

Back to Johnny O.  He’s on my list now.  Ok, here’s what happened:  I got to the Outlook for his solo acoustic, said “hello,” and talked for a few minutes.  Now, in all fairness to Johnny, he did mention that he had a cold.  However, he then proceeded to give such a riveting performance, that I completely forgot to take Airborne™ when I got home.  I now have a mean-spirited head cold, and it’s his fault.  Had his performance not been so stellar, I would have remembered to take some immune defense, and wouldn’t be suffering as I am currently.  It really was that tremendous a night, with Mr. O. seemingly possessed by an influence that wowed us all.  He’ll be back with his band on 2/2, and he better hope all symptoms of this nasty cold are gone by then or I’m going to heckle him.  Seriously!  I look like Rudolph with runny eyes.  I am NOT a pretty girl this week.

Ok, I’ve gotten that out.  Last week I had a dinner interview with the one and only Jill Watkins.   Many of you have heard her sitting in with Bob Margolin and/or Erica  Brown, but Saturday night we get to hear her in all her glory with George Whitesell and his All Stars, an eight-piece ensemble with a reputation as a first-rate blues band preceding them.  They primarily perform in the Colorado Springs area, but hopefully we’ll be able to have them here more often.

Back to Jill.  Read reviews on her site and words like silky, sultry, sassy, sexy, and smooth are to be found throughout.  And yes, she’s all of those things.  And her voice is pretty good too.  Although she claims she’s “just a chick with a day job,” Watkins is not “just” anything.  She’s got personality oozing all over the place, coupled with the self confidence necessary to be such an uninhibited performer (from what I’ve seen thus far).  She likens playing with great musicians to surfing, catching the perfect wave and riding it to its conclusion, and with George and his All Stars, there are apparently limitless waves for her to catch.

I’ve known George and his lovely wife, Amy, for better than a year, but have yet to hear him perform.  I spoke with him for a while the other night, and he’s really excited about “Coming to Jill’s turf.”  Jill’s turf is really excited about them coming as well, and I think we should give them a great greeting.  And maybe dress up a bit.  Jill will be in full regalia, so why not the audience?   Yeah, let’s make this Saturday a dress-up night; really let them know we’re excited about their inaugural Outlook gig.

Whitesell’s latest CD is getting quite a bit of airplay, including in Europe, and we’re damn lucky to have them.  Join us Saturday night for what promises to be an elegant party (Johnny, if my nose is still chapped and peeling on Saturday night, I’m coming after you!).

And remember, we’re sending our Memphis-bound babies off with a party on Sunday night, beginning at 6:00, unless that time has changed and no one bothered to tell me.  Hey, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.  Lionel Young and the Erica Brown Band are coming to party.   The evening will be a fund-raiser and silent auction with all kinds of goodies.  I was planning on auctioning off a dinner with me, but thanks to Johnny O., no one would want to sit across from my runny face; it would ruin an appetite.  I don’t think I own a pair of stockings fabulous enough to distract from the current state of my face.

As much as I hate to cut this so short this week, my head hurts, my eyes are burning, and quite frankly, I’m am in the violent throes of self-pity, and I don’t want to write anymore today.  So there.

My Dearest Dan,

First of all, thank you for rectifying the music in the bathrooms situation.  Much better.  Secondly, could you please talk to the wait staff about my club soda with lemon.  I understand that customarily sodas and water are served in the large plastic tumblers, but I prefer glass.  I would like my club soda with lemon served in a beer glass.  Feels better in the hand.  I know I traditionally prefer to sit back, unnoticed, not wanting any special treatment or to draw attention to myself, but this seems a minor request.  Can you hook me up?