NEWSLETTERS

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Terri Hendrix May 2006 GoatNotes
 
"Does it snow in your neck of the woods in March?" I heard Lloyd quiz the promoter of the Del Norte Arts Council, an organization that holds a seasonal concert series in Crescent City, California. I watched his head bob enthusiastically up and down when he heard the response, and he wheeled around in his chair to give me a happy "thumbs-up" signaling that our pending trek along California's 101 Highway coastline would be hazard-free. "Should be spring-like conditions," he said as he hung up the phone. "Doesn't sound like we'll see anything other than sunshine!"

A few months after that phone call, as we slowly made our way on a skinny two-laner through torrential rain toward the gig in question at Crescent City's Elk Auditorium, I thought about how it was a good thing Lloyd became a guitar player instead of a weatherman. Our rental car hugged the guard rail — the only thing between us and the rocks jutting out of the Pacific Ocean and the churning waves far, far below us — as the rain gave way to sleet and then to hail. Along the way, to add to our discomfort, we passed signs that warned "Tsunami Zone," "Abrupt End," "Rock Slides," "Elk" and "Caution: Road Out" — that last one due to the blizzard that hit a few days prior. Sure enough, part of the road was suddenly GONE and our two-laner became a one-laner. As our car pitched in the wind and I clutched the dashboard for dear life, my stomach let me know it was none-too-pleased with the lumberjack's portion of hashbrowns I'd indulged in for breakfast at — where's my camera when I need it? — "Lloyd's Restaurant."

Around that time, I remembered that before that night's show, I was supposed to have done an interview with a somewhat-local public radio station. I let go of the dashboard long enough to scratch my head as I had yet to figure out just why I was supposed to do this interview, as the lady doing it flat-out told me she did not play folk music or singer-songwriters — she only played world music! Thinking of that made me chuckle; as Big Bill Broonzy (who I'd argue to the death is "world music") put it, "It's all folk music — I ain't never heard a cow sing!" I decided to give the woman a call ... during the hail storm. I didn't reach her (smile), but at long last, we did arrive at our destination with not a minute to spare. After a quick dinner of fried chicken (which spent the first-half of that night's concert caught in my larynx), we performed to a mix of young and old and got a real sense of community from those that attended. Well, that was until Lloyd asked the crowd what the best way was to get back to Bandon, Oregon, where we were to stay that evening. There were two ways, and the community was equally divided in its response (kind of like Congress). We could either go over a mountain pass ("Do you have snowchains?" they asked us, "or camping gear?"), or back the way we had come in — you know, the route which winded along a cliff with half the road washed-out and into the Pacific Ocean. Finally, we decided to go with what we knew, and after loading our gear and bidding farewell to the really nice folks who put on the show, we hit the half-road and entertained ourselves re-reading all the familiar signs: "Tsunami Evacuation Route," "Sunken Grade," "Mudslides."

Then something unexpected happened. Although we often travel together, Lloyd and myself don't talk a great deal amongst ourselves in the car. So, it came as a surprise when he began to reminisce about his many gigs with Jesse "Guitar" Taylor, who had sadly just passed away. Being members of both the Joe Ely Band and Terry Allen's Panhandle Mystery Band, Lloyd and Jesse had toured around the world and back together. As fog curled up around the winding road and lifted through the Redwood Trees, Lloyd drove while talking about their many gigs together, leaving me with a sense of not only what a great musician Jesse was, but what a great person he was as well. At a loss for words, we rounded a sharp corner and suddenly the ocean was to Lloyd's left and several softly lit crosses in various sizes came into view high up on a hillside to my right. It was a surreal moment that neither one of us will soon forget.

After some shows in Portland, we made our way across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge (also known as the Galloping Girdy ... because it fell in 1940) to our last show of our grand tour of the Pacific Northwest, a benefit for the Gig Harbor Folk Festival and the Delta Music Experience http://www.deltamusicexperience.com) at the Wurlitzer Manor (http://www.wurlitzermanor.com) in Gig Harbor, Washington. Even road weary as I was, there was no mistaking the artsy, purple-painted tree planted in a yellow pot with a bright pink birdhouse hung from a limb just outside the guest home in which I was to stay that evening. It was so blissfully cheery, I had a gut feeling that we were staying amongst some good souls. The next day, we changed strings, grabbed our instruments, and made our way towards our gig, which was to take place that afternoon. Little did I know that the entire house where we were to perform had been built around an instrument. When we played, we would be in the belly of a Wurlitzer organ. The owners, true music fans, found out about the quirky home through an ad in the classifieds which listed it as a "room with organ."

To compound our surprise, our friend Julian Henslee, from Tacoma Guitars (http://www.tacomaguitars.com), showed up with a little jumbo cutaway (ER28C) for me to try out this year. With her fancy trim, pearl inlay, and sweet sound, I immediately named the guitar "Dolly" (after Dolly Parton, of course). Overjoyed, I handed her over to Lloyd, who quickly gave her his own winning stamp of approval.

After sound check, the Wurlitzer organ was turned on and soon the entire house came alive with music. It's hard to explain, but the sound is so powerful, you can feel it resonate in your chest. As "Amazing Grace" began to play on the organ, I made my way — somewhat overwhelmed — towards a room filled with the artwork of Louisiana folk artist Clementine Hunter. As I listened to the hymn, I thought about Jesse "Guitar" Taylor while I looked at one of Hunter's colorful paintings of a community gathering around a church. Inspired, I recalled Lloyd's weather forecast once again: "Doesn't sound like we'll see anything other than sunshine." Sure, we had seen hail, snow, sleet, rain, ice, and a mountain lion (that ran across the road and into a clump of Redwood Trees), but in spite of all the inclement weather (and the lion), we were returning in a wonderful state of mind and with our souls fed to the bursting point. All the good folks we met along the way, the beautiful new guitar and getting to experience the "Wurlitzer" live cinched it: I felt like we had only seen sunshine.

Last weekend, back in Texas — where my house got pounded by some Texas-sized spring hail — we got to catch up with our friends from the band Eddie From Ohio at the Old Settler's Music Festival. They told me that they had told their audience, "You should only do things that fill you up. Be with people that fill you up, play music that fills you up." I couldn't have agreed with them more. In this line of work, it's easy to get side-tracked and forget to keep your soul full (soulful?). But unlike a gas tank these days, a soul's an easy thing to fill, when you know where to look. I thought about Lloyd's long talk about Jesse "Guitar" Taylor, and knew he had been inspired and influenced by, performed with and been friends with one of the greats when it came to "soul." And I know I felt something bloom inside my own soul when I looked up through the fog across that hillside along the 101 coastline and saw those crosses on the horizon.

"Should be spring-like conditions," Lloyd had said. He was right!

at the moon with my dogs, and welcoming in the new year ... with a newfound sense of purpose.
 
 
Happy Trails,
Terri Hendrix

(C)(P) THM Music May 2006

www.terrihendrix.com
Terri Hendrix
Wilory Records
PO BOX 2340
San Marcos, TX 78667
phone 512-353-2536
fax 512-353-0994
 
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