Flanfire

MO MCMORROW — Mona Lisas Don’t Cry

Mo McMorrow, like her good friend Ray Bonneville, is a Canadian (and I love Canadians!) — but after going to art school in Australia and living for aeons in Ireland (where she honed her songwriting), Mo seems more Irish than anything.  Indeed, the songs on “Mona Lisas Don’t Cry” seem to come from that golden land.  I remember Mo telling me about her “little songs” even before I heard her singing them at Ego’s — and meeting up with Kathy Rowell and introducing her to Mo and next I knew they were doing a show at Aces (dutifully reported in the Flanfire archives).  Some of the songs from those early days appear on the new recording, but even these songs seem to have grown up a bit over the past year or so.

Mo’s brand-new record is graced with so many friends making beautiful music with her — Justin Douglas doubled as producer and player of numerous instruments on various tracks, Paul Pearcy on drums and percussion, and Bobby Daniel on bass are the near-constants, but making appearances here and there are such notables as Gurf Morlix (banjo and guitar), Ray Bonneville (harmonica and vocals), Cindy Cashdollar (dobro), Richard Bowden (fiddle), Carrie Elkin and BettySoo and Elizabeth Wills and Eliza Gilkyson (backing vocals), Erin Knight (trumpet), and Sharon Shannon (accordian).  My most recent encounter with Mo was at Cafe Caffeine a couple of Sundays ago, and as usual she seemed pleasantly surprised that anyone would want to listen to her “little songs.”  But of course they demanded an encore and invited her back as a headliner.

About those songs.  “Til the Rain Clouds Come” is clearly an Irish ballad — with references to “Father Kevin” and “cold morning dew.”  You and I might even call this a waltz — but Douglas’ harmonium and mandolin hold our feet back from overexuberances and we just stare joyfully at the gentleness of this kind woman.  “This Field of Mine” — somewhere I have a video of an early version — here it is wholly different, more mature, thanks to the work of Yoda Gurf Morlix.  “Fine Company” is almost a march — compleat with trumpet (and crumpets?), but bittersweet in its content. 

I like “The Wolf Is Gone,” a bouncy number with a country feel — Cashdollar’s dobro dominates but the accordian is a sweet find.  “Never Alone” (morning tea, the lake, and memories — so Ireland) — and then “No Love Child,” a poignant vignette of a song (“feel the winter inside … of me”).  Or how about “God Knows,” musically a shuffle but lyrics wise an arrow into the heart of the unfaithful.  “Polished Metal” could be another typical Irish ballad, or it could even be Canadian (sounds like Lightfoot), but it is so gentle you almost do not realize it is about someone who got left behind.

“Woundup Cowboy” features Bowden on violin, viola and cello — Cody Ground on piano, and Knight on trumpet — mostly in a crescendo near the song’s end.  Mo clearly shows her eternal patience with the untruthful.  All good songs, but my favorite here is the title cut — the title itself is worth the whole record.  Much of this recording is about a former lover, and this song is no exception — “it don’t matter much to me if mountains fall into the sea and rivers run dry, Should the Wall of China tumble down the Mona Lisa won’t frown, Mona Lisas don’t cry.’  Our gal (in the song, that is) left all of her stuff behind for “him” to deal with as he sees fit — how sad, “you never wondered what I hid behind my smile….”  How can strangers live together — surely not for long in harmony.

GINGER LEIGH – Better Than Well (Live at the Saxon)

My beloved friend Ginger Leigh has got herself a brand-spanking-new recording, “Better Than Well,” recorded live at the Saxon Pub with John Pointer on guiart, cello and vocals; Mark “Gumby” Williams on bass, upright bass, and cello; Kris Brown on electric guitar, bass, and vocals: and Frank Favacho on drums.  In short, SICK!  But it could be ME on those instruments and you would still love the show.  Ginger’s mom is one of the original Cone Sisters and Ginger herself is one of the most amazing entertainers I have ever met — and one of the great loves of my life to boot.

I will never forget the first time I saw Ginger (with Sarah Dashew of the killer voice and sailboat heart) singing and making us all laugh as we tried to eat what really was a good dinner at some place on Guadalupe long since torn down for condos.  Now there have been quite a few Ginger records, but this live shot has to be the best my ears have been blessed to hear.  All the songs here are Ginger originals EXCEPT Phoebe Snow’s ”Poetry Man” and “Come on Funny Feelin’,” written by the great Rodney Crowell (whom I got to meet last month — WOW!).  OK there is this other song Ginger cribbed from an unknown author, “Good Ol’ Boy,” but she has made even that one her very own. 

The CD (and live set) kicks off with a bang — “Time to Move On” (how could I have been missing these shows?), which features great solos, better harmonies, and the indefatigible, indomitable spirit of San Antonio’s gift to Austin and all of Italy, the spicy Ginger.  The Crowell song (how does he write such great lyrics?) comes next — and then “Good Ol’ Boy,” and you WANT TO BE that “boy” of whom she sings.  But the set really gets going with the title track — as Ginger sings, “Everything I do is for you…”  [I know well what that feels like, especially when the love flows two ways.]  Ginger is at heart a cabaret singer … maybe it’s because I know her as a friend, but I would put her up against Bette Midler in her prime any day of the month.  One reason – “I will not let myself fail.”

Next up is the quieter “Jetstream,” a sultry song about learning to bask in the love of a partner with “no subtlety, no gravity, so shamelessly…”  “Close Enough” is an oldie but goodie, sounds like a buzzing bee …. And then there is “Best of Me,” with Ginger singing in the mud, encouraging her partner to “get the best of me before I’m gone….”  Somewhere in the middle she does a little rap …  And then there is the raucous tale of Ginger’s lunch with “Napoleon,” before the set and disc close out with seven plus minutes of “Angel,” which opens with those dueling cellos….  and some genuine rock n roll drums.  You had to be there, and sadly I was not — but the moment lives on thanks to the miracles of modern technology.  Now Ginger maintains one of the coolest and most informative websites of anybody in the business — and on that site, Ginger has an extensive piece about the first time she ever played The Saxon Pub — on a Monday night following the Resentments (so she says) — and TONS MORE, including videos, “The Adventures of Ginger and Jane,” that will make your belly sore.  If you have never seen one of Ms. Leigh’s shows, now is the time (if you are a guy) to become a Ginger Man.

“Scars can fill us up with pride .. Scars can also make us hide those wounds we got when a part of us died….  How many scars do you have?  Will you ever show your scars to anyone?” 

At the memorial service two Januarys ago for my darling wife Nancy, I found myself speaking words about scars — how sometimes people’s scars are invisible to the eye but painfully obvious to the touch, especially a touch that is just not gentle enough to bring healing and comfort.  I was talking about how we need to be aware of who we are conversing with, how not to put foot in mouth or down their throat — how to spread life and not the crush of death.

That’s why I don’t listen to Lucinda Williams any more — except of course at the annual Hank and Lucinda Williams Hoot at the Cactus Cafe, the brainchild of fellow Red Sox fan Jenny Reynolds.  You see, it’s not that she left Austin, not that the last time I saw her at ACL Festival she was (well) not all there on stage.  It’s just that song.  You know, the one BettySoo [shown here with Charlie Faye at the Saxon last Saturday] sang Tuesday night …. the one that breaks my heart every time I hear it — the one that every time I hear any song of Lucinda’s it breaks my heart because I cannot forget that song.  The one that tells me my Susan is never going to call me on the phone — or ask me to iron her shirt for work — or give me a long lecture about how I need to love people better — again.  [Well, on another plane, she does come to me over and over through the people I meet out on the streets of Austin.]

“See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world….”   You see, I can hear those words once a year (or any other Lucinda song) because July 27th is Susan’s birthday — and I have to celebrate her life every day but especially at this special time.  When it matters most.  And somehow (though a day after this year) the Williams Hoot always helps me (though this is just the third year) celebrate Susan’s wonderful life — the life she chose to sacrifice thinking it would be better for the rest of us.

The nights SHE would wander the streets of her beloved Houston to seek out her lost girlfriends and try to bring them home to safety.  The weekends she spent with her disabled friend, even going to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and still getting back for her American Humanics meeting.  The day she died, she went to her job interview and then to the graduation ceremonies at the elementary school she had volunteered at, teaching reading to immigrant first and second graders.  And then the love our family was shown by Austin’s music community (in which we were still fledglings at the time) that has driven the Flanfire ship for nearly six years now.  For me, of course, the song sounds like, “See what I lost when you left this world,” except that out of that loss we have had great gain.  As you all know, life is made better through celebration … and knowing that we are all dying and so should live life to the fullest every living breathing moment.  [I can never think of Susan and not see Snoopy dancing.]

Susan would have turned thirty on Monday.  And Monday night, where was I?  Out at House Wine with some of my dearest friends — B. Sterling Archer (whose B. Sterling Band will soon be releasing its debut CD) and Melanie Martinez of Tiny Tin Hearts (which likewise has a CD about ready for prime time) — and Abbi Sims, whose spirit reminds me so much of my daughter’s — adventurous, honest, forthright, caring, and sharing … and in Abbi’s case, a downrightr good singer and budding songwriter and outstanding Open Mike hostess at House Wine.  Also in the house (well, outside in the front lawn) were Craig Marshall and Jon Notarthomas and Will T. Massey and the lovely Valerie Fremin (more very dear friendds) — Drew de France and Kurt McMahan from the band Ouachita, which plays Friday at the Belmont — and one Donnie Jones (shown here surrounded by Kurt along with Abbi and her songwriter friend Anna who hails from just south of Brenham, Texas).  And, oh yeah, Donnie Jones (who is better known these days as a wine merchant and vineyard owner) is a songwriter — a man who counted among his friends Townes Van Zandt and Blaze Foley and John Prine too (and of course Guy Clark), and whose songs are of that same caliber.  Will T is working with Donnie to record a bunch of his songs — some brand new, others buried for maybe decades.  Monday, it turns out, was Jay Sims’ birthday too, but we were mostly there to celebrate Abbi’s birthday on July 29th (which SHE was celebrating at the Cathedral of Junk).

But back to Tuesday night at the Cactus — which opened with Eric Hisaw and Chrissy Flatt and then Kerry Polk and friends and then The Flyin’ A’s (Stuart and Hilary Adamson) before emcee Tom Pittman made his actual debut singing and playing guitar all by his lonesome on a public stage.  After 40 years!  An historic occasion!  And, despite his own protestations, he was good lookin’ – sang well too!

After the break, it was Jenny herself and then Seth Walker, BettySoo and finally Guy Forsyth.  So after the show I found the two world-renowned lads standing side by side and popped out the camera for this photo — and Guy says this may be the first photo ever of the two of them together.  Whatever – Guy had closed his set with a brand-new song he wrote in remembrance of fallen hero Stephen Bruton.  Later he was showing off dozens of photos of his pride and joy, his 2-year-old daughter who is just gorgeous!  I know a little something about being a proud papa — Guy admits it has changed his life.

A few more notes before I go — and I promise I WILL get to those CD reviews sometime soon.  First off, we have Margo Valiante flanked by Etan Sekons and three-string bassist Kyle Clayton at the Whip In, where I was eating some of the best Indian food ever to grace my lips AND enjoying one of that venue’s many nights of fine Austin music.  [Hats off for their support of Groundworks!]  That was on Saturday, and I left at intermission to run to the Saxon to catch a great set from porterdavis (sadly, no decent photos for you).  Just stunning!  Mike Meadows on vocals and his patented drum-percussion rig, birthday boy Simon Wallace on harmonica and vocals, and Daniel Barrett on slide guitar and vocals.  The band was taking orders for their own new CD, which will be available at their August 28th Saxon Pub show — if they make it back home from Nova Scotia.  Then, as noted, it was Bettysoo, who opened with “Do Right Woman,” a Dan Penn song made famous by the Flying Burrito Brothers (okay, theirs was by no means the first, or even the biggest hit version, but Earl Poole Ball played on that record — as did (duh!) Gram Parsons).  No wonder she’s opening for Joan Baez!

The little lady in the yellow dress is Akina Adderley (yes, Nat Adderley, Jr.’s baby girl) — and SHE was the opening act at Sunday’s very well attended Austin2Africa event that was raising money for an orphanage for South African children whose parents had died of AIDS.  [The $20,000 they need for the project is but a drop in the bucket of Oprah's budget for her posh girls' school.]

This was Akina’s fourth show with her Village Playboys in four days (Victory Grill, Antone’s, Marcus Cardwell‘s backyard!) and she had to run out the door to sing the national anthem at a RollerGirls throwdown.  Also on the bill were Kalu James, Tandoorifinger, Paul Banks (who will be back at Momo’s soon), and the amazing John Pointer (who broke a string on his very first song and never slowed down).

Susan would have loved this extended weekend — from Thursday through Tuesday, great music one night after another.  Her favorite, of course, was long-time Austinite Steve Ulrich, whom she used to see regularly at the Hole in the Wall during its glory days singnig in between Quatropaw sets.  I like to think she is hearing the music I hear in Austin from her special place in the clouds.