An Utter Lack Of Shame 5021

The scene at AT & T Stadium was surreal as we took the stage. There’s something about one hundred and five thousand people packed in a stadium that is just unreal. I’m certainly not complaining because the reception we got was incredible and it provided us with the adrenaline to cut loose and put on an unforgettable show.

Feeling emboldened by the positive reviews of the soundtrack for “Holy Sinner, ” I asked the crowd if they wanted to hear some of the album. A thunderous cheer came roaring back at me, and we proceeded to go wild. Cullen temporarily put down his guitar and picked up a harmonica, which he played with amazing skill. I could hear the crowd gasp when he blew into the harp, and they got to see another musical facet of the Sorcerer.

The there was Ray.

A prodigious guitar talent, the crazy bastard immediately picked up on the music and played it like he wrote the songs. His interplay with Kim was astounding, and it allowed me to get down and dirty on the slide. I expanded Enrico’s role, and he sang his heart on a couple of the songs, showing his formidable vocal chops. Rory, Jonah, and Beck were their stellar selves as always.

We played the whole album, and the stadium shook.

The show provided non-stop thrills for us and apparently did the same for the fans who made their presence heard all night. We gave it our all, and the crowd went home happy, which is always the goal. The stadium security team looked relieved as we headed to the showers. “You okay,” I asked one of them. “Good Lord, that was insane. The crowd behaved, but it was loud in here, and they kept it up all night long,” he replied. “Yeah, wasn’t it great,” I said. The officer laughed and patted me on the back. “You’re a nut, Scragg.” “Thanks for the terrific job you guys did, it is appreciated,” I then told him. “It’s our job, Scragg, and we know you care,” he replied.

After showering up, we headed to the airport, and after our stuff was loaded onto the jet, we took off to San Antonio. Robert Van Lear sat next to me and Miller Hatteberg, another billionaire land baron who has a stake in the oil business, took the seat across from mine. They said they had business in San Antonio and will are delighted that can fly us there. “It was a great show, and it made me feel like a kid again,” Van Lear said. “Good, we did our job,” I replied. “I wish there were more festive times in this country,” the oilman then said. “That’s going to take more than wishing,” I replied. “I know, and I realize that something has to be done to bridge this divisiveness that is tearing us apart.” “We need to lower the volume and take a step back,” I said. “That’s it,” Van Lear asked. “It’s a start.” “It’s not that simple.” “I didn’t say it was simple, in fact, it’s hard as hell to listen and not get riled up at things you don’t want to hear; however, if you want to curb some of this discourse, then people are going to have to shut the fuck up and take a breather from all the fussing,” I said. The two billionaires gave me a stunned look. “Oh yeah, I got your attention when I used profanity,” I said with a smile.

I didn’t want to talk about the political and social divide in the country after a kickass show, but that was my fate for getting a free flight to San Antonio. I decided to ask them point blank what this was really all about and they both gave me the same dazed expression. “You guys aren’t frightened, you’re trying to make shit disappear like it never happened. Marty, can you come here please,” I asked my manager. “What do you need, Scragg,” he asked. “Type in Miller Hatteberg and see what comes up besides land and oil,” I said. Marty did, and within seconds we discovered that the billionaire is active in auto racing, both in NASCAR and Formula One. “Shit, and look here, he’s all over the place, and now he can’t be. “Now, look up Robert Van Lear.” “I’m into the rodeo, and we’re trying to assemble a new security team so we can get our lives back,” Bucking Bobby screamed. “No, this has nothing to do with fright, it’s about covering up a crime,” I replied.

Van Lear and Hatteberg wanted to jump out of the plane.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Hatteberg pleaded. “Yeah, here’s what happened, last May, you, Van Lear and a couple of other billionaires went down to Galveston for some fun in the sun. Unfortunately, things got out of hand and your security details imbibed and enjoyed the services of prostitutes, which a couple were infected with a nasty strain of syphilis. That’s bad, but then, a couple of your goons assaulted a young girl named Lisa Aguiar, who doesn’t remember much because of the trauma. This charade is over, but you guys are going to pay,” I said.

Hatteberg threw up.

“Oh God, what do want,” Van Lear pleaded. “Nothing, Lisa Aguiar was a med student and will be again because you’re going to pay for it, plus, you’re going to set her family up for life. Christ, I need to scrub down after taking this fucking flight.” “How did you find out,” Van Lear asked. “Shut the fuck up,” I screamed. The billionaire recoiled in his chair and began to sob.

We landed in San Antonio, got our stuff, and then checked into the hotel. I told Brodowski and Marnell that if they took that job that they were dickheads and would have their balls chopped off. They assured me they would do no such thing. The rest of the security team looked at me in disbelief and then asked if there was anything I wanted them to do. “You’re good,” I replied. “We feel like idiots,” Charles said. “Don’t, you were following orders.” “No, this is fucked up.” “You’re right, but we straightened it out.” “How did you know?” “Something told me it was fucked up. They were going to try and buy you guys. Barton had no idea, but he’s gotta stop associating with shit like this. Those other rich pricks at that meeting were also played like chumps. These two fucks are something else, but we’ll make sure they pay, even though it’ll never be enough.”

I then went to bed.

Crazy Ray Crashes Dallas 5019

After an awkward supper with the billionaires at an overpriced restaurant, the only saving grace was that the movie was completely sold out, which meant the night ended early to everyone’s relief. Back at the hotel, I retired to my suite and took a seat in a recliner. Rory did manage to purchase a copy of the soundtrack of the film, and he put it in. The rest of the crew filed in, and we listened to the CD that sounded great and was romping and stomping good time from start to finish. “Holy shit, this soundtrack is gonna be a hit,” Rory declared. “I don’t know about that, but I love the way it sounds,” I replied. “Damn, Scragg, this thing smokes,” Cullen remarked. “I had a lot of fun making it. Joey and his band helped me out some, so did Paige, Farley, and Dave,” I said. “It does kick serious ass,” Jonah added. “Five fucking stars from just about every music publication,” Rory screamed. “Yeah, this album is killer,” he wailed. Jonah and Enrico pulled out their phones and pulled up the reviews and showed them to me. “I believe you,” I said.

The security team then got summoned to the front desk.

“What’s that about,” Kim asked. “Who knows, probably something with those billionaires,” I replied. “Man, that was a fucked up meal,” Rory said. “It sure was, but at least it didn’t last that long,” Cullen remarked. We all laughed at some of the bullshit we heard.

The phone in the suite rang.

“Scragg, could you please come down here,” Renaud asked. “Is there a problem?” “Well, kinda, but not really.” “What the fuck.” “You’ll see when you get here.” I clicked off and told the band that something was up at the front desk. They all went with me, and we headed down.

We arrived at the front desk, and Charles pointed toward the restaurant. I walked to the entrance, and the hostess guided us to the back. I could hear the unmistakable sounds of slide guitar played by a master. I looked at the stage area and laughed.

It was Ray Musser jamming away with the house pianist.

“This was supposed to be a mellow night, but it’s turned into a rowdy rocking ruckus,” the young lady said. “How does it sound,” I asked her. “Terrific.” Ray saw me and smiled. The crazy bastard stopped playing and told me that he flew in this evening. “Did you get up with Clayton,” I asked. “Yes, and he got me the ticket.” I looked at Marty, who told me he wasn’t notified. “Of course not, but what the hell,” I said.

The patrons in the restaurant then gave me a cheer.

“Thank you, I’m just here to retrieve our problem child,” I told them. “Play something, Scragg,” someone hollered. “No, no, just here to check out the commotion.” Ray walked over and put his guitar in my hand. “Ray!” The crazy bastard then walked to the corner and got out another Airline Town and Country guitar and plugged it in. “Come on, Scragg,” Ray said as he let out a wicked slide run. “Ray,” I snarled in frustration.

I then shrugged and joined the Crazy Ray on “Mumbo Gumbo”

The pianist, Benny, smiled and jumped into the action and the crowd got worked up. It wasn’t long before the high-class joint was transformed into a rowdy concert hall and the helpless manager looked on in disbelief as his affluent customers were throwing down like old pros.

It wasn’ the way I had planned to spend the evening, but I also didn’t count on Ray coming to Dallas and raising hell. We shut down the restaurant with Ray and I wailing away while Enrico sang his heart out. When the night was over, the manager looked at us and then downed a beer in record time.

It looks like Ray id going to be a handful.

A Night Out With Skittish Billionaires 5018

We flew into Dallas and got put up in a five-star hotel where we slept until eleven. After showering up and getting dressed. We met the billionaire businessmen led by Robert Van Lear, the CEO of Van Lear Energy, a vast conglomerate that is into everything petroleum. A sharp dressed man in his late sixties with an athletic build and silver hair that makes him look like that classic billionaire, Van Lear’s piercing eyes and winning smile convey confidence almost to the point of arrogance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scragg Man, Barton has told me a lot about you and is impressed with you intellect as well as your prodigious musical talents,” he said. “The pleasure is all mine, Sir.” “As you know, these are divisive times, which can be scary for people like me. I hear you have some of the finest people looking out for you,” Van Lear then said. “We have a fine security team,” I replied. “We’ve had a couple of incidents over the past year that has yet to be resolved, so I thought we could talk with your team and see what they do.” “Sure,” I called Charles over and told him to answer Mr. Van Lear’s questions. Van Lear led Charles and the other billionaires into a meeting room. Jacque stayed behind, and we went to find something to eat.

We got a sandwich at the snack bar and watched the water fountain. I asked Jacque what had the other billionaires looking so spooked. “It’s like their life had flashed before their eyes,” I added. The Frenchman laughed and said that several of them have gotten constant death threats and some have experienced close calls. “I heard Van Lear say that he had some incidents and he’s not alone. Most of those guys are oilmen, and there’s a lot of people who see them as the enemy. Barton had a hand in setting this up because he’s also been under a lot of threats. They have a private army guarding those guys in New York,” Charles replied. “You know what’s going on,” I asked. “With Barton?” “Yes.” “The only thing I know is that they’re doing some reorganization.” “That’s all you know?” “Yes, Sir.” “When does Scragg get to play piano,” Rory asked. Jacque and I chuckled. “What’s so funny,” Rory asked. “That ain’t happening, this is all about security,” I replied. “What?” “About six months ago, a bomb was delivered to Van Lear’s house. Two months ago, someone took a shot at his car. Last week, he started getting death threats via computer, which they’re still trying to trace. The same has happened to some of those other guys in that room. They want to keep it quiet, so they don’t give these lunatics publicity, but it’s to the point where something needs to change in their security protocol. Sorry for the cloak and dagger shit, but it wasn’t my call. This is crazy shit, and unfortunately, we’re mixed up with a billionaire who travels with us and is high-profile, hence, all this security,” I clarified. “Christ, does any other band go through this,” Rory asked. “Probably not, but that makes us unique.” “Okay, so it’s fucked up as usual?” “Right.”

Three hours later, Pierre walked out of the room looking frazzled. I asked the Frenchman how the meeting went and he shook his head. “They’re a bunch of rattled billionaires who want assurances that nothing bad will ever happen to them, which isn’t possible. A lot of them have been on lockdown for awhile and want to live again, so we told them that they’re going to have to change their habits and upgrade their security. Brodowski and Marnell both got jobs, but not until after the tour. Thank God,  that’s over,” he said before stretching his neck. “Did you guys get offers,” I asked. “Yes.” “Why didn’t you take them?” “Because I don’t want to be around those guys,” Pierre replied.

Charles and the rest of the security team walked out fo the room look as ragged at Pierre, and all of them wanted something to drink. I laughed and told them I was going to my suite. “You want to have dinner with Van Lear and company,” Charles asked. “Who’s buying?” “They are?” “Sure.” “Then we’ll catch a movie,” Rory added.

A night out with skittish billionaires–yeah, that’s fucked up.

Pleasing Those Who Matter 3528

Glen and I took the stage inside AT & T Stadium, after a lively set from the Ugly Guys. I looked around at the one-hundred thousand plus people in the facility, and a chill ran through me. “Hello, Dallas,” I greeted the crowd, which got me a thunderous cheer. “Wow, this is quite a gathering we have here tonight. I reckon you’re all here to listen to some rock and roll, blues, and whatever else comes from this stage,” I then said to more applause. “How ’bout some tunes I recorded in New Orleans?” More cheers. “I got this resonator guitar that needs to be put to good use, so let’s get this show started!”

This never gets old.

“Dust Storm” “Last Batch of Shine” and Smilin’ Devil” open up the show, which go the crowd worked up. “Full Throttle” “Mr. Carter” and “Crusher” followed. Then, I pulled a fast one and culled some songs from the Squalor, which made me think of Micky and Hannie. “This next song is a tune I wrote many years ago and played with two guys named Mickey Causman and Hannie Wiese, two crazy guys for sure. Hannie’s no longer with us, but Mickey is still walking around; Hello, Mickey, this song is dedicated to the memory of Hannie, it’s called, “Copper Kettle,” I told the crowd.

Glen and I then tore into the tune.

Having a skilled drummer brought the tune alive, despite lacking a bass, which Mickey wasn’t all that good on, anyway. When we finished, the cheers shook the building. We then played, “Ides of February” and “Bowie Knife” The crowds response was gratifying beyond words, and it rewarded our decision to include the songs.

Songs from the Roseman Album were next.

“Diamond Days” “Broken Dragline” “White Powder” “Smiling Lies” and “Familiar Stretch of Road” got a rawer treatment that gave them a growl I liked. The constant roar of the crowd provided more than enough energy for us to go full bore all night. We played four more songs from the album before getting into the Moak recordings.

This is great.

I can still see and hear Moak’s exuberance when I recorded these songs, which made me smile, but also sad. The big guy loved music and allowed me to play whatever I wanted without question. I’ll never forget him jumping and letting out a ‘Yeah!’ when I finished recording the songs. I must have captured his spirit because when I finished playing, the stadium was in a frenzy. “God bless you, Moak, I miss you, buddy,” I said.

We finished up the show with a mix of songs from all m recorded output. The fans, who remained loud throughout the show, cheered my every move that made me wonder what I was doing so right. When we walked back to the dressing room, I asked my crew how we sounded They gave me a stunned look and said that the show was incredible. “It’s a tour for the ages, Scragg, listen to the crowd, they’re still whopping it up,” Randy replied. “Great, that’s what we want.”

After showering, we hopped on the bus and headed to San Antonio. Marty said the social media sites were abuzz over the concert. “They’re calling it the best concert ever in Dallas, so it was a hit,” he told me. “That’s subjective, but still nice to hear,” I replied. “It was a great show, Scragg; shit, they’ve all been great. I know you worried about this tour being a money grab, but it’s far from that. This tour is amazing, so enjoy the ride and make some memories. Your fans are eating it up and all those people can’t be wrong,” Marty then said. “No, I reckon they can’t,” I replied. “And you’re pleasing the people who matter,” Randy added.

And that is what’s important.

Lone Star Larry’s 3525

We rolled into Dallas, in the early morning after a wild show in Houston, where Rory joined us onstage for a few songs. The three and half hour bus ride allowed us to get some sleep, which made us forget that we were on wheels. We then checked into the hotel and crashed until noon. After showering up, we all met in the lobby to decide on lunch. The hotel restaurant looked satisfactory, so we got a table and ordered the special. The crew looked rested and ready to tackle the day, but that wouldn’t be necessary because we had the day off. “You all can take a breather today and soak up the Texas sun. As for me, I’m heading back to my room to get some more rest. I know that may sound nutty, however, you can never get enough rest on these tours, so that’s something to consider,” I said. “I believe it, my body is beginning to feel the effects of all the traveling,” Thomas replied. “Me, too,” Ned added. “Then it’s settled: everyone chill today,” I declared. Randy, Lowell, and Sam looked around the table and agreed that resting was the way to go.

Blake then called.

I greeted my wife who told me she heard that the show in Houston was a wild affair, and that Rory and I got the crowd good and loud. “The news said it was a frightening inside the stadium because the noise level was so high. I saw some video of it, and they’re right: it was loud,” she said. “That’s good, you don’t want a quiet stadium,” I replied. “True, but according to this report, there was trouble afterwards,” Blake then said. “No, it’s just some hacks trying to paint my fans and me as a bunch of wild animals, which is tiresome and pointless, but let them keep smearing me because the more they do, the more money I make.” “It does work that way,” Blake replied.

My wife and I talked for a spell, and she told me that Paige and baby are doing well, as is everyone else. When I clicked off, I called Marty, who said the hit piece Blake was referring to did make it look and sound like the stadium was going to explode. It was heavily edited to make it look like chaos, but what can you expect from hacks who don’t have a life of their own,” he said. “You’re right, and there’s always going to be dickheads, so why am I wasting time on this,” I replied.

Supper time came, but I had a hankering for something different; perhaps breakfast, so I called Marty, who suggested a joint called Lone Star Larry’s, a country-style restaurant that serves breakfast anytime. “Sounds like a winner to me. Get the crew rounded up and let’s get some grub,” I said. “I hope they have liver pudding,” I told Thomas, who was in the suite. He gave me wary look, but said he hopes so, too.”

We piled on the bus and headed to the joint to get breakfast. “They have something besides breakfast,” Lowell asked. “No,” I replied. “I ain’t too keen on breakfast,” he then said. “You becoming a fucking prima donna, boy,” I snapped, which startled the young man. “No, Scragg, I…” “Yeah, you think you can call the shots because you in your warped mind you’re actually think you’re something. Well let me tell you asshole, I’m eating breakfast, and you can eat what the fuck you want!” Lowell looked about in a daze while his two cohorts laughed. “You stupid fuck, you should have seen the look on your face when Scragg told you the truth,” Sam told him. “Fuck you,” the bassist fired back. “I ain’t too keen on breakfast,” Randy said, mocking his band mate. “I like moon pies, grape juice, and marshmallows,” he continued. “Fuck you, Randy.” “Listen to Lowell trying to be bad. I’ve seen badder slugs underneath the trash can,” the genius hurled back. “That’s because they’re your cousins,” Lowell scoffed.

There’s no doubt I’m on the road.

We walked in Lone Star Larry’s, and were underwhelmed by the decor, which there was none, and the general ambience of the joint that was a couple notches below staid. I wasn’t expecting a high-class establishment, but I expected more than a dive. “Well, let’s go sit down,” I said, as the cook gave us an indifferent look from behind the counter. “Who’s idea was this,” Barton asked. Marty wearily raised his hand, but said that it sounded Texan. We took a table in the back, and waited for our server.

Damn, this place is a dive.

An elderly woman named Erma, walked over to the table and asked us what we wanted. She couldn’t have been less enthused about her job, but being a restaurateur myself, I know all about uninspired help. I ordered the eggs, hash browns, and asked if they had liver pudding, which they did, which made my day. “Give me a waffle, too,” I said. The rest of the crew ordered the same, minus the liver pudding. We then sat back and waited for our meal. We weren’t expecting much, and the rest of the patrons looked about without noticing us.

I then noticed a small stage in the corner.

“I wonder who plays here,” I asked. “God knows,” Randy replied. “I bet they’re into punk here,” I joked. “Yeah, that and techno,” Sam remarked. “Are you sure this place is safe,” Barton asked. “No, but that’s what makes it interesting,” I replied. Everyone had a nasty remark about Lone Star Larry’s, but I prayed the food would be edible.

Then it came.

To the surprise of all of us, the food was delicious and was prepared with care. Lowell, who isn’t keen on breakfast, devoured his and then ordered another waffle. Thomas also enjoyed his meal, and told Erma to give the cook his compliments. Renaud loved the sausage, and he’s an expert, so it must have been good. Even Barton and Lacy were impressed. “We spoke too soon,” I said. “We sure did, and I’m ready for Glen to sing a song,” Randy replied. The little drummer rolled his eyes, but when Randy asked Erma about the stage, Glen eyes widened. “Can you play,” she asked. “He can,” Randy said, pointing Glen. “I don’t care,” the surly waitress replied. “Go for it,” Glen,” Lowell implored.

And Glen did.

We set up the amp and mic for Glen’s performance, which drew no interest from the patrons, but when he began playing, the began to saunter over to watch the little guy play. “Crack of Dawn” “Out the Door” “So It Goes” “Bars” “Cheap Beer” and “Should Have Run Faster” completed his set of originals, which got a nice hand from the customers. I told him to play whatever came to mind, which was Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. The crowd laughed and cheered Glen on, who played for an hour and a half.

Someone then recognized me.

I signed autographs and posed for pictures, as did the Glen and the Ugly Guys. What started out looking like a bad choice turned into a fun outing.

And it finished off another night.