Shipe song among “Best of 2011″ in region

My new year kicks off nicely with a boost from the Eugene Register Guard (specifically, musical writer Serena Markstrom) who lists “Hard to Believe” as one of the Best Local Songs of 2011.

It’s my simplest, rootsiest country tune off Villain. A broken-hearted country lament in the classic male/female duet style. I credit my duet partner Halie Loren for putting it over the top, and producer Ehren Ebbage and guitarist Al Toribio for injecting just the right amount of twang.

Now, if I can find someone to help me shop the tune around Nashville, I will pay such a person handsomely in foot massages, grilled cheese sandwiches, and untold royalty percentages.

Shipe in Las Cruces @ Pecan Grill – SW Tour Day 8

My first New Mexican gig.

I heard four differing accounts of Las Cruces: a tiny border town, a lonely desert outpost, an art community tucked away in the mountains (like Jerome, AZ), a resort town (like Taos).

Nope. It’s actually a University Town. Pretty big, pretty regular, pretty spread out. Looking at the Pecan Grill website, I imagined a quaint little adobe Bistro/Brew Pub, with a tiny stage in the corner of an intimate engaging room. I was mistaken. The place is huge, with several spacious rooms and high ceilings. It’s more restaurant-like than pub-like. And chock full of beautiful people looking spectacular.

Although the intrinsic intimacy quotient isn’t high, an artist can make a connection one of those rooms. I, however, felt like leaving the patrons alone rather than “talk at them.” I was told by one listener that I could have afforded a bit more engagement had I been in the mood.

I was well-paid, and well-taken care of by Shawn the manager. He is a musician himself, from a reggae/ska outfit called Liquid Cheese. So he knows the travails of the touring artist. In fact, that’s why he booked this out-of-town road warrior, on an off night, in lieu of his regular roster — out of respect and the desire to help a traveller on his way. (Liquid Cheese, although base in El Paso, did much of their work in Northern California where Reggae reigns supreme.)

As a touring artist, I have said this before, and I’ll say it again: When you greet us well, treat us well, and make us feel at home, it means as much as paying us well.

Interesting side-note: In New Mexico, it is against the law to serve alcohol to musicians during the performance. They can drink as much as they want before the gig, and plenty more after the gig. But they cannot drink during the gig, not even at set break. (New Mexico cares about the quality what they put on their stages.)

Shipe Southwest Tour Day 6 – Tucson

Mix desert hospitality w/ Southern hospitality, and you get my Tucson homestay experience. I was going to camp in the highlands last night, but I got such a late start out of Phoenix (catching up on business in a Starbucks for several hours). I decided to take it easy and impose on some old friends. They had waiting for me: shrimp & mushroom quiche, Black Russians (the drink, not the ethnic group) good conversation, a comfortable bed, and the promise of sausage & biscuits in the morning.

I should be ashamed of myself. But camping can wait for New Mexico and West Texas.

Meanwhile, I gotta say I’m impressed with Tucson. I didn’t expect it to be quite so “alternative.” I found my way into a coffee shop called Shot in the Dark, with anarchic political paraphernalia, edgy art all over the walls, and a half-naked moustachioed barista with a giant tattoo covering half of his bald head. I suddenly felt I wasn’t as far from the Pacific Northwest as I thought. (Although a barista in Portland or Seattle is probably in a sweater and raincoat by now.)

I am looking forward to my solo gig tonight at Plush Lounge.

Shipe Southwest Tour Day 3? 4?

Woke up in a Motel 6 in Blythe, CA. By the grace of desert hospitality (that should be a bluegrass band), I will make my gig tonight in Phoenix at Frank Murray’s Turf Irish Pub.

Yesterday’s Pit Bull fundraiser (at the Franciscan Renewal Center — a real-life monastery) went smoothly, although I was sleepwalking through much of the day. (I shared it with an original band called Arbor Circle, the kind of act that would fare nicely sharing a bill with The Renegade Saints. The singer reminded me of Jerry Joseph, but with a happier vibe.)

Afterwards, I was fixin’ to catch a Greyhound back to Blythe. But a couple of Mayday volunteers had a different idea; they would drive me. (This means 5 hours out of their weekend, after working their assess off for free all day.)

Ducati Motorbike-mechanic-John & Baja-cycling Curt escorted me back to AZ-CAL border, bought me dinner Denny’s while I waited for Blythe Ace mechanics to finish Saturday races at the local speedway and bring my car to Motel room at 10:30 pm. On the way, John & Curt schooled me on motor sports, both of them experts — John working for GO AZ motorcylces. (Did you know that you get sent to Italy to learn how to work on Ducati’s? And by the way, the owner of GO AZ is also the owner of GoDaddy.com.)

That’s what I love about this life. Every where I go, I meet all different kinds of folks and learn about all different kinds of stuff. John & Curt tell me that I should write a book. But all I ever learn is just how ignorant I am about what goes on around this huge country.

Broke Down in the Desert

I left Sacramento at 7:00 a.m., in order to make Phoenix on time for a good night sleep before Saturday’s Mayday Pit Bull Rescue benefit.

I was making good time. L.A. of course slowed me down, but sportstalk radio about the Cardinals’ Game 6 kept me in a good mood.

East of Palm Springs, almost to Arizona, I was listening to Game Seven. Bottom of the 6th inning. Suddenly, the radio died. Dash lights dimmed. Headlights started to fade. And finally, my trusty 1990 Toyota Corolla Wagon died altogether — Alternator.

The streak is over. Not a single on-the-road breakdown since I went solo, until now. (My old Subaru Loyale broke down several times back when I had a band.)

Now I’m sitting here at Denny’s in Blythe. The Arizona-California border. Day 2 of tour. 8:00 pm. And the gig is tomorrow is at Noon! 160 miles away.

But the show must go on. And I’m trying to figure out a way to make the gig. If it were my own gig, in a bar or coffeehouse, I might feel free to cancel and get a hotel room. But this is a benefit performance for some good folks who are counting on me. I’m figuring out a Greyhound bus schedule. Or maybe I’ll just go out onto Interstate 10 with my guitar, a flashlight and a big sign that says “Gig in the morning in Phoenix!”

The car was towed — with all my gear in it, everything that’s important to the basic infrastructure of my life! Merle the tow truck driver, who also goes by Dale, has taken care of it. It’s in the Ace tow yard, secure, instead of the Ace Auto Repair parking lot. (Also, he isn’t fazed by my black nail polish. He used to be a DJ in Pennsylvania where my wife grew up, and in Daytona, FL where he rocked Spring Break.)

So, what happens next? A solution I didn’t even consider. The Pit Bull Rescuers in Phoenix are coming to pick me up. 2 1/2 hours each way! Richard & Kyleigh, my homestays.

Although it sucks to be broken down in the middle of the desert, this is the kind of treatment that really makes a guy feel worthwhile. A thick thread of gratitude runs through the frustration and anxiety of the situation.

Southwest Tour – Heading Out

Woke up in Ashland, OR where I paid a visit to my good friend John Grimshaw (director of “Pit Bull Rescue Woman & “Yellow House”). I got here via a highway adopted by NORML. (Something you’ll only find in The State of Jefferson, which includes Humboldt County. Ah, the Great Northwest!)

Good to see John again, who had to leave Hollywood behind — temporarily — just as I have, until further project infrastructure is robustified. We commiserated, planned, theorized, and encouraged one another, and assured ourselves that we would soon release the second episode of Laurel Canyon Back Porch Variety Hour.

First gig of tour is tonight in Sacramento, with Doug Cash, at Fox-n-Goose Pub. I will be well rested, having taking a few hours off the long drive from Eugene.

Shipe in Lewiston (Idaho)

Back in my surrogate home of Lewiston/Clarkston, last night was a superlative, truly unplugged, gig at La Boheme.

When I say unplugged, I mean no microphones, no amplifiers, and no P.A., in an intimate venue, with an audience accustomed to listening quietly. I gotta tell you it’s lovely.

I was a accompanied by Scott Cargill and his lineup from 7 Devils, who nailed these arrangements on the fly. Outstanding musicians, and great friends, they had brushed-up shortly before my arrival. We had minimal discussion, ran through a couple songs, and called ourselves ready. It could not have gone better.

The Devils: Nathanael Tucker on Fiddle, Jim Laws on percussion, Scott Cargill on mandolin, and Ryan B. Gibler on bass (who managed songs he has never even heard before.)

My close friend Scott is the perfect musician to do this sort of total acoustic set-up. As a deep, knowledgeable fan of roots combos driven by mandos, banjos & stand-up basses, he has the attitude for it. His mando strumming is relentlessly in-the-pocket! Together with Jim on the percussion (handling such quiet volume with authority, emotion and dynamics) I felt comfortable rhythmically — more than usual.

Fiddler Nathanael, in the unplugged format, marvels at “being the loudest instrument in the ensemble.” But with such sweet tone and phrasing, it’s a good thing. The country-ish material went particularly well with fiddle: “Villain,” “Honky Tonk Romans,” “Like Some Folks Do,” and “Some Hidden Things ” (which features a whole string section on the studio album).

We closed the show with “What Right Do We Have to Fall in Love?” The Devils didn’t know this one at all, but damn if they didn’t turn it into the big finale!

Nathanael is also the owner of La Boheme. I exhort my acoustic colleagues to get in touch with him sooner than later. A great, relaxed host, he produces special shows, taking care of both the audience and his fellow artists. He comes from a family of musicians (brother of Simon Tucker), so he knows what matters.

Tonight, Scott joins me for a duo show at Eichardt’s in Sandpoint. Come Saturday, we get take the 7-Devils/Shipe combo to the next level @ Hogan’s in Clarkston.

Shipe planning Southwest Tour (Oct/Nov)

I’m planning a tour of the American Southwest — around Halloween time — between my wife’s and my mother’s Scorpio birthdays. (What a terrible husband and son am I!)

I could really use some help finding venues (and booking them). So please chime in, friends, fans, family, and Pit Bull people.

The dual foci of my desert adventure are two Pit Bull Benefits: Phoenix on October 27th, and Austin on November 5th. I’m thinking about Flagstaff, Prescott, Tucson, El Paso, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Taos, Durango, El Paso, Kerrville, Austin, San Antonio, Dallas, Ft. Worth and/or anywhere else a there’s room for me at the Inn. I won’t be hitting all these places; time doesn’t allow. Wherever I am welcome…

I am grateful for any & all aid and comfort.

Shipe @ Hogan’s (Clarkston, Lewiston 8/5)

I try to make Clarkston/Lewiston my last night of tour, so I can end on a high note with one of my best friends Scott Cargill.

The venue is Hogan’s Pub, located in Clarkston, owned by Chef Tony, managed by Bailey. (These two could run a clinic on how venues treat artists. Hogan’s defies the troubled economy in the area, both in atmosphere and the business it does. The professionalism and the quality of music attracted to the stage — tucked into the back of that long narrow space — surely have something to do with it… along with the great food.)

Scott joins me on mandolin. We play souped-up, rowdy versions of the Shipe tunes he has learned. And I sit down on lap steel to play some of his repertoire: a few originals, Jackson Browne, Little Feat. Lately, he’s been bringing in his percussion man, Jim. It never fails to entertain.

But on Friday, it was over-the-top. Scott has a new band called 7 Devils. And they actually rehearsed two sets worth of my music. There I was playing with a tight band with fiddle and mandolin. Obviously, the Americana & Country stuff went well, but these guys were kicking ass on the epic, rockin’ and unusual stuff too, like “Crawlspace,” and “Love Belongs to Everyone.” Other highlights: “Delivered,” “Achilles Heart” (w/ violin parts as written), “The Weight” (w/ the big drunk sing-a-long), “Minotaur” (w/ fiddle and mandolin playing the twin leads), crazy jam on “Road Story,” and Dave Coey’s “Phoenix.”

Afterwards, my hand, wrist, and fingers were killing me. I am out of shape for that kind of beating. (But I needed the workout for an upcoming power trio gig in Bend.)

Here’s a bit of interesting music biz gossip: 7 Devils is a great country-oriented band, just starting to pick up some real good gigs, one of which was an opener for Diamond Rio. Well, guess what. As Scott tells me, they were removed from the bill because of their band name — “7 Devils.” Without bothering to find out that they are named after some mountains in Idaho, someone representing Diamond Rio decided that they would feel bad if the word “devil” appeared anywhere in the promotion… or some such nonsense rationale.

Hell, the 7 Devils logo is a silhouette of the mountain range itself, not a pentagram dripping blood.

What bothers me about this? Working musicians ought to know that when you bump someone off a bill, you have taken paid work away from them. Booking is done far in advance, and it’s difficult to replace the date with a suitable alternative, let alone a high profile opener. It takes hard work to earn spots like that. Diamond Rio ought to know, assuming they’ve had to work for their success.

Diamond Rio is a Christian-oriented band, yes. But presumably, given the benefit of the doubt, they are men of honest faith, not merely of Christian “image” working the religious angle as a marketing approach. They could have checked out 7 Devils music, learned that each of its members are family-oriented working gentlemen. Perhaps they could have worked something out with regards to promotion.

But this is a trend in our “interesting times” isn’t it? Famous people and politicians dealing in symbolism and the surface trappings of whatever ideology they want to be associated with.

Arrg! Don’t get me started… just when I’m having the nicest stretch of time I’ve had all summer (not forgetting the celebration of my old drummer’s wedding at Rattlesnake Creek Campground. Congrats Scott Headrick & Kirsten.)

Superlative APBF concert for Shipe (7/16)

Before I delve into this extensive blog full of delight and gratitude about last weekend’s Pit Bull gala, let me just get one thing out of the way:

Lucky Five. Remember that band name. Lucky Five could become the best rock-n-roll band in the country. I won’t waste time describing them, only to say that if The Allman Brothers had a secret love child with Gnarles Barkley, Lucky Five would blow it off the stage at battle-of-the-bands. For the time being, Lucky Five belongs solely to Charlotte as their darling local band. But if and when they tour, watch out!

Okay, in the wake of the posting of my recent video Pit Bull Rescue Woman, I am aptly impressed by the Sara Enos, the director of American Pit Bull Foundation. This was a large, multi-dimensional event — a 6-act music festival/fundraiser that included vendors and booths outside the venue. (Amos’ Southend.) Although Sara has a bright cadre of volunteers, it’s clear that the buck stops with her on nearly everything. She handles it flawlessly, and pleasantly with no drama.

While driving me to the airport, Sara mentioned to me how “gracious” all the artists and celebrity guests were. I had to let her know that she was the reason we were on our best behavior.

“We artists are like children,” I said. “We need structure.” When we know what is expected, and when the situation is organized & professional, we don’t want to be the cause of it all devolving into chaos.

(Somewhere in there, I think, love of Pit Bulls may also have something to do with it.

I refer to “celebrity guests.” Indeed, I was a little starstruck. Pinups for Pitbulls was there. I found myself circling their table incognito several times before working up the nerve to approach them. I’m normally not so shy, and we already know each other from our online association. But I thought I should change into my stage attire before I met them personally. Plus, I wanted pictures, and I feel awkward asking for such things. It was sort of funny the way I went into my head just then. (It must have been that Southern humidity.)

The Pinups are so sweet you wouldn’t believe it. Lovely, bright, and committed to the dogs. They have wild & crazy tattoos on the outside, down-to-earth wholesomeness on the inside. The three ladies who were representing each have husbands serving in the military — one whose husband was coming home for R&R from Afghanistan the very next day.

Also there was Shorty Rossi, to MC the event. Just in from Nicaragua, en route to Vegas, with his dog Hercules (and assistant Juan), Shorty the Pit Boss was in splendid form for such hard travel. A professional, with a sense of humor.

I mention Ken Foster (author) in a previous blog. He’s from New Orleans, with tales to tell about canines and hurricanes. I had the pleasure of dining with him the night before, so I got a taste of the human voice behind his writing.

And, oh yes, the bands. Top notch, every single one of them, leaving me with the impression that Charlotte has a brilliant music scene.

I’m listening to The Situationals right now. A fine work — excellent songs. But like so many bands, they have more power on the live stage. Loud, with a fine female vocalist and a pair of aggressive Americana guitarists. (I thank Mike for his tuner, ’cause I had no room for mine in my carry-on luggage. Sorry I kept it up there on stage, Mike. I hadn’t expected Shorty to introduce me while I was tuning up.)

Jared Allan & Company. If I had known what they sounded like, I would have asked to sit in. Jared is a singing voice to be reckoned with. (Not many can get away with covering Ray LaMontagne.) With mandolin accompaniment, and being from the South, Jared’s brand of acoustic Americana makes me envious. It makes me wish my family had kept me near the Ozarks where I was born. (I can strain that loose association all I want, but damn me, I’m a Yankee!)

Charlotte has a Reggae band called Jah Fishermen. While they jammed, Situational Mike and I sat outside ruminating over how difficult Reggae Music is to play. It’s simple sounding, but it’s hard to play. Most musicians can’t. They think they can, but they can’t. Jah Fishermen get it right. And a good reggae band is always a peak spot on any multi-band bill.

Porcelain Mary is temporarily deserted by their Germany-bound lead singer, so they were unable to play their originals. Nevertheless, in true “the-show-must-go-on” ethic, they plowed through a set of classic rock covers–as a power trio–including Big Head Todd’s “Bittersweet.” Two things: 1)This guitar is good enough to pull it off. 2)I’ve thought that some of Big Head Todd’s music would be better with a less-busy rhythm section, as this one is.

Lucky Five!

My own set? I frickin’ love playing solo on big stages — especially to an audience who is waiting for particular songs to sing along. (That would be “Pit Bull Blues” and “Pit Bull Rescue Woman”) The question is always, “But will they like my other songs.” I think this audience did. Having been invited to come so far, I really wanted to please. So I didn’t hold anything back. It was honestly the best I could do.

One last thing: Thank you to Sara’s family for the bed in which I got my best night’s sleep in months.

And I haven’t even yet begun to talk about the things I learned at the booths outside the concert. Stay tuned.