Vintage DBT

Talk about the songs, the shows, and anything else DBT related here.

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Jenn
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Location: Athens, GA
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Jenn »

Hrm... I could only find the one.
Image
どれだけ涙を流せば
貴方を忘れられるだろう
Just tell me my life
何処まで歩いてみても
涙で明日が見えない

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zoid
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by zoid »

Here's the only one left on the Fark page.

Image

http://www.fark.com/comments/707534/Pho ... id=5228722

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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Smitty »

From Jenn B's facebook:

Image
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

denverdawg
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Joined: Sat May 01, 2010 1:18 am

Re: Vintage DBT

Post by denverdawg »

That Red Rocks show may have very well changed mine and my wife's life trajectory. We decided to head out for the show from Athens. After we booked the trip, a job for her opened in Denver. They probably never would have flown her in for an interview, but she was able to say, 'I'll be in town if you want to talk.' The rest, as they say, is history. That job greatly accelerated her career, and Colorado was unbelievable. Thanks, DBT!

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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Smitty »

THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE

You can run but itÂ’s still gonna getcha
It ainÂ’t nice to fool mother nature
You can hide but sheÂ’ll sniff you out
She knows what those demons are lying about
And itÂ’s another late night all alone in here
IÂ’m wide awake and nearly out of beer
ItÂ’s seeping in through the cracks in the curtain
Deny all you want but you know itÂ’s for certain
ItÂ’s time for some stomping and banging
Leave all you want but donÂ’t leave a man hanging
A shiny car and some really nice digs
Another manÂ’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Is this how itÂ’s supposed to be
An attempt at moral ambiguity
An attempt at writing what you know is wrong
Bring them all a circus and leave em with a song
Cracker Jack palaces, casinos at dawn
Last time I seen him he was puking in the lawn
Laying on the stage in a fetal position
Blowing our brains and raiding our kitchens
A bunch of owed moneys that will never be paid
A really great album that will never be made
Nothings in the cupboard and nothings in the fridge
Another manÂ’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Things can turn on a dime but itÂ’s hard to tell
The last time I checked I was still crazy as hell
Walking on the rail and dancing on air
Gravity decides what happens and where
I still remember how to ring that bell
Last time I checked I was still crazy as hell
ItÂ’s a thin thin line between madness and genius
Walking on that cable and man you should have seen us
It only takes a second to flip that lid
Another manÂ’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge
Every man and woman got some things to keep hid
Another manÂ’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Patterson Hood – May 21 and 24, 2007 – Athens GA (office)


ALL THE LESSER MONSTERS

All the lesser monsters are asking for their share
Of the soul that you sold out to cover up transgressions
The teleprompter road show keeps pounding at the fringes
As they slug fest for the middle and alienate the viewers

Meanwhile the mercy angel keeps screaming from the trenches
But nobody seems to listen, deafened by the screw-ups
Wait for the announcement: the amateur hour is over
When the curtain drops its time to reinvent yourself again

Screw top headless cupie-dolls sound off “all is well”
Lap-dance for the ratings and dry-hump in the sewers
Dog shit down the standards of the already mediocre
Sanitized deodorized replaced by something newer

All the lesser monsters wait for the big one to fall
On our heads like Chicken Little and give the ratings massive boost
And though we try our best to avoid it death is sharpening her claws
To pounce down upon us and reduce us all to food

Boy, the deities are laughing as they’re sitting on their toilets
Reading all our private dailies and the minutes of our lives
Guess even Gods need diversion to keep their minds from blowing
And shutting down the circuits and fading into blue sky

Gonna fade into blue sky…

Patterson Hood – I-20W en route to Jackson MS. August 20, 2004 /
Backstage “Down on the Farm” Festival, Tallahassee FL. November 10,2006 /
Office, Athens GA January 12, 2007 Finally!


BIG RED SWINGSET

One day I’ll quit this road
Think I’ll buy a farm
See what life’s about
With you in my arms
We can get a tractor, maybe grow some grapes
Learn to love the simple life with money in the bank

One day I’ll quit these bands
Maybe go to Spain
Or maybe southern France
Sounds good either way
Put a big red swing set in front of the palace
Maybe knock you up again if I get the chance

Got it figured out
What this thing’s about
Miles to drive to wait around
And think how much I miss you
Living what I dreamed of
Wonderful and mean enough
Guess I just can’t get enough
Ringing in my eardrum

One day I’ll quit this road
Take you in my arms
Show you all them places
That I wrote about on postcards
Or we can sit around and watch the front lawn grass grow tall
Maybe I can get to know Georgia in the fall

Daddy’s coming home soon, Daddy’s coming home
Play it loud when I’m gone, Daddy’s coming home
(repeat as necessary)

Patterson Hood – May 29, 2006 – Iberia Airlines 49-D (NYC to Madrid)


SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER
But it took so long
It shoulda been bigger
Shoulda never been wrong
Coulda happened better
Shoulda been more strong
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

Shoulda moved slower
when I was already late
Louder than a leaf blower
when you was trying to sleep
Shoulda been a bigger bastard
When I was told to be nice
Shoulda never taken
99% of that good advice

I know the difference between IS and WAS
One gets the gravy and one gets puss
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

I know the difference between LOTS and SOME
One gets the cannon and one gets the gun
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

I know the difference between toast and a turd
I know my Stratton from my Pallenberg
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

Patterson Hood - Back from the Cruisemuthafuckas 1/10/07 (office)



STRINGBEAN

When they found Stringbean murdered
He was laying in the front room and his wife was on the lawn
Wads of hundreds in his pockets and none of it was gone
It was rumored there were thousands in the cellar in some jars
A three-room shack, no plumbing, a Cadillac in the yard

When they found Stringbean murdered
No one at The Opry quite knew what to say
Paranoia and suspicion in Nashville USA
Country stars built mansions with high stone-walls and gates
It was Grandpa Jones that found him that way

When they found Stringbean murdered
There were hints and allegations and panic on the farms
If this could happen to him, we better take up arms
Old-timers took the money they had hidden in some jars
And opened up bank accounts to shelter them from harm

When they found Stringbean murdered
The letter from his mother was no doubt by his heart
The scarecrow stayed in the field to memorialize his lot
The treasure remained hidden safe behind the hearth
Until time and bulldozers made their mark

When they found Stringbean murdered
There was shock and trepidation in rural USA
The Depression Generation opened bank accounts next day
The killers were convicted and sent away to stay
It was Grandpa Jones that found them that way

Grandpa Jones found them that way
Grandpa Jones ate breakfast alone until his dying day


Patterson Hood – December 2006 (office, Athens GA) / January 21, 2007


GRANDPA PAT

Granddaddy’s lunchbox sat on the counter
Where he left it after a long hard day
Pipe-fitting at Brown’s Ferry, he always had a headache
He’d sleep in the chair until it’d go away

Granddaddy’s lunchbox was packed every morning
With bad coffee and a sandwich that he ate at the plant
Building the world’s biggest nuclear reactor
He could do the work of three or four men

But to see him at home on a Sunday
With his little granddaughter on knee
Was to never guess how hard he was working
To provide for the rest of the family

Granddaddy moved wherever work took him
And when it was over he’d move on again
My grandmother stayed and kept up the home place
Would fly up and visit him every now and then

And when he’d come home there’d be chores on a list
Furniture to build and go-carts to fix
He and I painted the pier at the lake
He taught me that nothing worthwhile comes quick

Graddaddy’s lunchbox sits on a shelf
Brown’s Ferry’s shut down and Granddaddy’s gone
Except for his soul which still lives in us all
Keeping us centered and thoughtful and strong

Sometimes I can still see him in my dreams
With a smile on his face and my sister on his knee
My Grandmother cooking turnip greens and cornbread
To serve up nice and hot for the whole family


Patterson Hood – December 1 2006 (Office – Athens GA)
For William Marshall Patterson (1920-1983)


RETIREMENT COMMUNITY

Old folks moving in from miles around
To drive real slow as the sun goes down
Play some golf, rake some leaves
Build a retirement community
Get along you punks you ain’t welcome here
Your heathen ways and greasy hair
The jobs all left by 83
Now it’s a retirement community

Grandpa why you talk so mean? Why deny what might have been?
Build a tower to view scene of our retirement community

All them Buicks and Oldsmobiles
Bluehairs slow behind the wheel
Blue lights stop, they want to see
My AARP ID

Grandpa don’t let em take me away I’ll give up my wicked ways
Can feel the vines creeping up on me, this retirement community

The factory’s closed and the bars did too
Nothing left to look forward to
Lots of people depending on me
In this retirement community

Mama Mama what’s your boy to do
Can’t find a job and my girlfriend’s due
Changing bedpans getting O.L.D.
In this retirement community

Mama Mama what’s your boy to do
I ain’t got the aptitude
To get into the University

Point my headlights any old way
As fast as the jobs all fly away
My taillights be the last you see of me
In this retirement community

P. Hood - August 12, 2003 (Vancouver BC.) / November 29, 2006 (My new office, Athens GA)


BREAKING NEWS

Tom and Katie are getting married in Italy
I’m so excited, my life is so complete
Pictures of the little monster
I really hope like hell I get to see
The castle and the happy nuptials
I bet the bride is looking awful foxy
Putting their business in recouptuals
Thank heaven for the paparazzi

Oh shit, OJ’s at it again
Coming to an arena near you
He’s gonna talk about the grisly murder
To entertain the living hell out of you
Maybe we can promote it as a double
With Michael Jackson or Dr. Phil
And Oprah and that guy with the book
Of his life of rehab, booze and pills

Holy shit! There goes another Republican
Having sex with little boys and crystal meth
Never mind that our country’s in a quagmire
Nobody wants to hear about that yet
But if some Senator or preacher
Has an urge that he’s not supposed to scratch
It’s gonna be a headline from coast to shining coast
And all of us will tune it in to watch

Give Rush all the Oxy-Cotin
And Viagra that it takes to do the job
Send him off to Thailand with that nut-case
Who didn’t kill that girl in Colorado
And Bush needs another trillion dollars
To pay his friends to clean up all the mess
That was made while the media wasn’t looking
They were telling Michael Moore how to dress

Every time the terror warning changes color
I can feel my bank account turn more green
Some Guardsman’s on his third tour of duty
Let’s send Kerry out to clean up the latrine
And now that he’s through inventing the internet
Al Gore’s trying to save the boys and girls
I don’t know if what he’s saying is full of bullshit
But I believe it’s getting hotter in the world

I know this ain’t the time for innuendo
Or ducking cause the shit’s hitting the fan
They’re lined around the block for Nintendo
And Elmo’s got a brand new marketing plan
And public schools are stuffing kids with pizza
And growth hormones in milk sure is great
Put em some Ritalin at seven
They’ll be hitting puberty before they’re eight

And Johnny can’t read or count to twenty
But he can hack the Pentagon before he’s ten
He can name you everyone who’s killing Kenny
And recite you all the words to Eminem
So forgive me if I’m seeming grumpy
At the shit that they’re putting on my bun
It’s always best to laugh when you are terrified
Breaking News can be a lot of fun

November 18, 2006 – My Desk in the Kitchen at Home
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Smitty »

THE BOSS IS BACK?
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN - MAGIC

For those of you out there who used to love Bruce Springsteen and perhaps thought that we'd never again hear a new Springsteen album that makes us say "Hell yeah!" again, I'm pleased as shit to report that I think we finally have it.

Upon hearing the single, Radio Nowhere, I was initially amused at how much the opening guitar riff sounded like Jason Isbell's DBT song "Never Gonna Change". Not in a bad way, Lord knows I spent enough of my youth emulating Bruce so a little unintentional payback was kinda a sweet irony. (One could make a fun game of going through Adam's House Cat's Town Burned Down album and counting the moments where I rip off the Boss, but I digress). Still, I liked it better than any single he's released in a long time and I hoped that it was in indicator of how the new album might sound.

Upon first hearing the new album (which like any self-respecting modern day fanatic, I ripped off and illegally burned, no worry though, as I have purchased the vinyl now and by the way KUDOS for releasing it on beloved 33 1/3 a week before the CD comes out. Too fucking cool. I hope our label will do that with our next album, but again, i digress). Where was I? Oh yeah, upon first hearing it I was thrilled to like it so much. Hell, I proclaimed, best damned Bruce album since 1987's Tunnel of Love.

Oh, i've been a little tough on my childhood hero in the past decade or so. I skated through the bad 90's making the best of whatever happened. Tom Joad really did have some great songs, i just couldn't really listen to it all that much. The show I saw on that tour was incredible, but certainly not a ROCKSHOW. The Rising was supposed to be the "return to form" but I fucking hated it (except for the song Empty Sky, which I really loved). The rest of it, i'd honestly just as soon hear his so-called mid life crisis albums (Human Touch anyone?). Really wanted to like Devils and Dust, but just didn't. I did like the Pete Seeger thing, especially the live shows from it and held out hope that maybe this new revitalization would bleed into his next album of new original material.

Boy did it.

Upon about ten more listens (don't think I ever made it through The Rising that many times) I've changed my mind.

Magic is flat out my favorite Bruce Springsteen album since 1982's masterpiece Nebraska.

For years, I've held out some small hope that he'd make another Rock record like Darkness on the Edge of Town. Instead, he's given us a killer pop record like The River. (Which for the record is my all time fave, although the 78-82 period is pretty much perfect to me). At his prime, Bruce was the master at blurring the lines between the personal and the political and wrapping a message up in a pop song format. This time he's delivered the goods (and boy, do we need it now!)

He's obviously pissed, but who ain't. Only a moron can look around and not see that shit is fucked up. Only a master can take that anger and create great art from it. It may not change the world, but we all need a soundtrack as we deal with the daily bullshit. When I was a teenager, it was Springsteen's music that literally kept me going when I felt alienated from the world and alone out there. Now as I'm a forty plus year old man with a wife and kid of my own, I'm awfully proud and pleased to have a great new Bruce Springsteen album to crank up in the car as I pull out of here to win.

- Patterson Hood - October 2007

MAD RAMBLINGS 603: White Knuckle, West Virginia
(The Very Early Days on the Road / DBT's First Tour; Fall 1997)

Back in 1997, DBT hit the road for the first time, heading up towards Chicago, and then cutting across the Great Lakes, then down the east coast. The tour began just after Thanksgiving and took about three weeks. It was easily one of the most miserable experiences ever. The band was in its early stages with mostly different personnel from now. We had just mixed our first album the past weekend and our only release was a 7" 45 of Nine Bullets / Bulldozers and Dirt. I learned fast that to survive on the road we would have to sell a lot of merch and that singles, no matter how cool they are, just aren't particularly profitable for tour support.

The band didn't yet own a van. We booked the tour with The Star Room Boys, an Athens Georgia band specializing in hardcore-authentic country. If you've never heard their two excellent CDs (both pretty hard to find, I suspect by now) it would serve you well to seek them out. Fantastic songwriting, expert playing, and Dave Marr has one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard. They had just bought a van and let us share enough gear, so we could get away with touring in Cooley's wife's Mazda Protégé'. Their drummer couldn't make the tour so they used our drummer (Matt Lane, an incredible guy and dynamite drummer).

If my memory serves me correctly (and honestly, it's all a little foggy by now) Dave Marr booked most of the tour himself using friends and contacts he'd made along the way. Dave was originally from Chicago and looked about as unlikely for a country singer as anyone you could imagine. My then wife used to refer to him as the Country Vampire and he actually looked more like he should have been a Glam-Rocker than singing heartbreak honky-tonk in Athens GA. Early on, I voiced a little concern about heading so far north during winter. I'm from Alabama and I know my place. Our entire towns shutdown at the mere mention of flurries and us country boys might can ramp our General Lees over creek beds and billboards but the slightest ice and we're cleaning ditches and wrapped around telephone poles.

Dave listened to my concerns, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and in his slow Yankee drawl (what happens when A Chicago boy sings country in Georgia for too long) said "Patterson, I'm from Chicaaago, and the weather never gets bad until January and February". He then, if I remember correctly, and I might not, made some derogatory remark about how us Southerners make too much out of northern winters we know nothing about.

We converged in Durham, North Carolina at Cooley's house and left the next day for our first show, in Columbus Ohio. By the time we hit West Virginia, we had figured out that we had vastly underestimated how long it was going to take to make the trip and were running quite late. Then the clouds opened up and it began to pour down rain. With four of us crammed into that tiny little car (including our original bassist, Adam Howell who was 6'6") we began slip sliding up those windy mountain roads. I was crammed in the back, feeling the tires give-way every time an 18 wheeler went flying past us and watching the veins bulge on Cooley's neck as he tried to hold the car on the road.

I wrote the first verse of a song in that tiny backseat and would return to it every few days for the duration of the tour. That song, "White Knuckle, West Virginia" acted as a sort of tour diary for the experience. I never really considered it a top-shelf song, but did enjoy pulling it out and driving it around from time to time. We even recorded a version of it during the second sessions for our album "Southern Rock Opera". The song was to tell of the fictitious band's early days on the road, but was wisely left off of a story that was already far too long and detailed for its own good.

We arrived in Columbus, just as the first band was finishing their set. Loaded directly onto the stage and within minutes were playing our set. Our show basically consisted of songs that later were released on our first two albums, "Gangstabilly" and "Pizza Deliverance". Our instrumentation was mostly acoustic based (upright bass and acoustic guitar, with Cooley on electric guitar and John Neff on Pedal Steel, plus the very hard hitting Matt Lane on drums). Adam sang beautiful high harmonies and we could nail some pretty fine 4-part harmonies on a decent night.

The opening act those first few nights was an excellent Columbus band called The LilyBandits. They were kind enough to put us up for the night in comfortable accommodations. Unfortunately, one of their daughters had brought home one of those killer kindergarten flu viruses and over the course of the tour, it wreaked havoc as it leveled every member of both bands (except of course, Cooley, who in the course of all our years on the road has been sick once).

On night two, we played at The Empty Bottle in Chicago. It was my first time to play in the windy city and we were well received by a small but enthusiastic crowd. Outside it was snowing like crazy and colder than shit. David Marr woke up the next day puking his guts out from that pre-school bug and was looking downright green as we took off towards Lansing Michigan.

It was during that drive that I fully began to realize how much shit our stupid Southern asses were in. I learned how the wind picks up water from The Great Lakes, freezes it, and then drops it on the interstate. We drove all the way to Lansing on a sheet of ice and we were all wedged in that God-forsaken Mazda, trying to pretend we weren't scared shitless. By this time, Adam was riding full-time in The Star Room Boys' van with its better stereo, more ample leg room, and less interaction with mine and Cooley's increasingly nasty dispositions.

The run from Chicago to Lansing did, however, provide me with one of my fonder memories from that era of the band. We were somewhere about halfway, running late as ever, and more than a little nervous at the worsening road conditions. The sun was going down and the temperature dropping. We were listening to a compilation tape I had made of old Muscle Shoals' Rhythm and Blues. Matt Lane was cooped in the back (not a small guy himself) singing along with Clarence Carter's immortal "Patches" at the top of his voice. I'm sure it's one of those "you had to be there" stories, but the picture I still get in my head is priceless.

We arrived in Lansing and played in front of a small but enthusiastic audience. I think Dave had to puke a few times during Star Room Boys set, but knocked us all out with his ass-kicking professionalism. We had all traveled a long way and no stomach virus was going to stop any of us from getting our job done. Later that night we were put up by the promoter of the show and some folks from a local college radio show. They threw us quite a party and I probably had the best time of the whole tour there.

I woke up the next morning with the dreaded stomach flu. The snow seemed to be almost knee high at the Big Boy Restaurant where we ate. I was in denial and trying to tell myself that I was just hungover so I ate one of the most terrible meals of my life. We then took off for Buffalo.

If a crow were to wake up in Lansing with a hankering for Buffalo, he'd fly straight east and be there in no time at all. For a band without proper papers (not to mention whatever we might have on board) going through Canada was not an option, so our drive became a marathon. A few miles into it (around Cleveland if I remember correctly) it began to snow and then blizzard. By Erie, Pennsylvania, the turnpike was being shut down all around us, truckers were warning us to get a room and we were trying to get in touch with the promoter to see about canceling.

The Star Room Boys van had flown past us hours earlier and we had no way to get in touch with them. (This was pre-cell phone days for both bands). I'm sitting in the backseat of the Protégé' puking in a bag while Cooley is plowing through a mountain of snow. We stopped a couple of times trying to find a room, to no avail. Finally we got in touch with the club and they told us that the weather was better there and to come on. We kept going forward into the storm.

Sure enough, around the time we crossed into New York, the blizzard stopped and the roads were more or less clear. Between pukes, I wrote another verse of that damned song and we arrived at The Mohawk unscathed, but with no sign of the Star Room Boys' van. A couple of hours later we got the call that Adam had driven it off the road and into the ditch but that everyone was fine and that they would be along as soon as the tow-truck pulled them out.

By the time the van arrived at the venue, my sick condition combined with my worries about everybody's well being and I sort of lost it, screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the street at poor Dave Marr. I still feel sort of bad about it, but I'm sure it's not the only time he's ever been yelled at for no good reason.

I don't remember much about the show that night in Buffalo, just that I was so sick I felt like I was going to collapse on stage at any second, hanging on to my oversized straight microphone stand for dear life, but fortunately never did. Immediately after the show, the beautiful wife of Buck Quigley (lead singer with Buffalo's great band The Steam Donkeys) descended from the heavens and within minutes I was being tucked in to my sleeping bag in their warm comfortable apartment while everyone else finished the night and loaded up all the gear.

Now, what happened next might not have even happened, or at least I would have certainly written it off as a fever dream had I not compared notes later with Dave, who seemed to have the same recollections. It's all somewhat vague now, but somehow there was some sailor from the Merchant Marines who ended up staying there also and decided sometime after Buck and his lovely wife had gone to sleep to pick a fight with Dave and I. Loud sounds awakened me from my coma and I seem to recall both of us being threatened with bodily harm. I was not raised to consider getting my ass beat by some big mean military motherfucker to be a fair fight, so I was scanning the room looking for a weapon when Dave was somehow able to lure the big piece of shit outside. Once out the door, Dave slammed it behind him, locking him out. Finally after about an hour of banging on the door and screaming obscenities at us he left or was frozen or something and I went back to sleep.

The next day, we all converged and went to Niagara Falls. I had written a song a few years earlier called Niagara Falls about my first divorce. It had the hook: "I been to Niagara Falls and I won't go back again". The song had also been partly inspired by the old Three Stooges skit where one of them would go crazy and become more violent than usual upon someone's utterance of Niagara Falls ("slowly I turn…."). It was hilarious when I was seven and we should be so lucky now. I had also seen the falls in that Superman movie, but nothing really prepared me for how incredibly kickass it really is in person. I had never been before, but have gone back again since. I've gotten married and divorced again since I wrote that damned song and I still play it solo from time to time. Rock and Roll.

Later, we left towards Boston. It was our first day off on the tour (if you can call a 10 hour drive a day off). We drove all day and stopped for the night at the home of a relative of one of the Star Room Boys. He was kind enough to put us all up and cook us breakfast the next morning. I cannot fail to mention how beautiful his daughters were. All too young even for us to seriously leer at, but so fetching to our road weary eyes that all I could think of was the Castle Anthrax in that Monty Python movie.

The next day we drove threw Vermont, which was about as beautiful as anything I've ever seen. The road we traveled, followed a meandering river that was frozen. The sides of the road were banked in snow, but the roads were perfectly clear for traveling. We arrived in Cambridge and played with Tom Leach at a small pub called The Plough and Star. The crowd seemed split between loving us and hating it. The stage was tiny but the beer was cold and we drank a lot of it.

The next day, Tom Leach showed us his Roger Miller video, which may be one of the funniest things I've ever seen (I would kill for a copy to this day). Then we left and drove straight to Richmond Virginia (a long ass way). We got there early the next morning and our dear friends Wes and Jyl Freed had beds, couches and cold beer waiting for us.

Next we were off to Chapel Hill NC. We played (for I think the second time) at Local 506. It was the beginning of a long friendship between us and Dave and Monica who ran the establishment. For years, they would book us (even prime slots), we would play and 8-10 people would show up. As late as early 2000 we were still barely pulling in that town, even as our attendance was growing rapidly most everywhere else that we played. Still, Dave and Monica (and the rest of their staff) invited us back, got us drunk, and attempted to pull folks out to the show. It eventually paid off and we sold out our final show at their bar, just days before they sold it and moved on. Good friends, them.

Finally, it was homeward bound for us. We left Cooley with his bride in Durham and hobbled home broke and tired. I can clearly remember thinking the entire drive home (six hours) that "this road shit is for the birds". I really couldn't comprehend a future that involved a whole lot of it. But, there was work to do and not really much time to ponder any of it. I borrowed some money and mastered the album. Soon, I was working hard getting "Gangstabilly" ready to release, booking some CD release shows, and starting work on a follow up. We reentered the world of touring very slowly and cautiously, but we'll save that for a later story.

Right after I returned home from that first tour, I finished the song. We played it at our next High Hat show and a time or two after that. We also recorded it a time or two, but as of yet it remains somewhat buried.


WHITE KNUCKLE, WEST VIRGINIA
80 miles an hour in the West Virginia rain
They're waiting in Columbus and we're later than we think
Cooley's at the wheel, Adam's on the brake
And I'm jammed in the backseat with my head between my legs
Got the shits, jitters, bad coffee, cigarettes
And you couldn't drive a nail up my ass with a sledgehammer

White Knuckle, West Virginia
Winding through mountain roads in the rain
Crammed in, cooped up and wondering
Will I ever see my Darlin' again?

20 miles an hour in a Pennsylvania blizzard
It doesn't take no wizard to figure this out
North in the summer, south in the winter
Buffalo, December, what kind of fucked up shit is that
Broke out on the road, left my baby mad
Suddenly getting me a job don't seem too bad
Stomach flu go round, shitty food to eat
Screaming at my buddy in the middle of the street

White Knuckle, Pennsylvania
Sliding up the turnpike in the sleet and snow
Barfing in a bag and freezing
Thinking about your warm soft bed back home

Boston closes early, Buffalo late
Lansing had the worse fucking food I ever ate
Sitting at the diner with it breathing on my plate
Now my stomachs turned to acid and I smell really bad
My stomachs turned to acid and I smell really bad
Daddy's coming home, Thursday by nine
And I'll kiss the ground when I cross that Mason Dixon Line

White Knuckle, North Carolina
95 on I-85, snakes alive
Lord, get me through this speed trap state
Hauling ass back home, I just can't wait

© Patterson Hood, December 1997


MUSCLE SHOALS, FAME, AND DRIVE-BY TRUCKERS 2004
In the late 50's, North Alabama resident Rick Hall started FAME (Florence Alabama Music Enterprises) Studios in a vacant space above a drug store in Florence, Alabama.
He had two partners, one of whom, Billy Sherrill soon left for Nashville (2 hours to the north) and went on to become one of the most successful record producers of all time (Stand By Your Man, Delta Dawn, Behind Closed Doors, He Stopped Loving Her Today, Elvis Costello's Almost Blue......).
By the early 60's, Hall, who was a man of uncompromising spirit and drive, was sole owner and the studio moved to it's present location on the corner of Avalon Av. and Woodward Av. across the Tennessee River in the very small town of Muscle Shoals.

This isn't the time for me to go into a huge definitive history of Muscle Shoals, The Shoals Area, Rick Hall, or Fame Studios, but a brief passover:
The Muscle Shoals Area is comprised of 4 small towns (and their surrounding areas) located on both sides of the Tennessee River in the northwest corner of Alabama.
It's only 20 or so miles from the Mississippi State Line and only 10 or so from Tennessee.

The area was the site of TVA's 1st and biggest hydro-electric power plant (Wilson Dam, built around 1920 and at the time the biggest in the world).
The Tennessee River was considered unnavigable and would veer from flood plains to sometimes a meandering stream, cutting through one of the poorest regions of the country.
Now it's a big beautiful river, controlled by a series of dams (built by TVA, The Tennessee Valley Authority) with huge lakes, ideal for boating and recreation (and unfortunately ideal for the cooling of Nuclear Power Plants like Browns Ferry, which is the site of the worlds 3rd worst nuclear power plant accident). Upstream from the Shoals is an abundance of industry, causing the beautiful lakes and waterways to be somewhat polluted.

The area gets it's name from an abundance of mussel shells that used to make up it's bank on the north side of the river. They're still there, although now you have to dive to see them, as they are under 50 feet of river since the building of the dams. Supposedly someone misspelled it, hence the name.

I noted earlier the names of Woodward and Avalon, these are also two of the main drags in Detroit MI. Back when Muscle Shoals was mostly farm land, Henry Ford came down (with Thomas Edison and FDR) to tour the area and it's huge system of dams with the intent of buying Wilson Dam and building the worlds biggest auto plant there (powered by it's cheap hydro-electrictricity). There was a lot of excitement in the air, and developers began planning a city to support and house all the people who would be moving there to work in the mighty plants. Of course, it didn't work out and Ford, instead built his mighty plant up in Detroit. He built a plant that built transmissions in the Shoals area. It shut down in 1982, the year I graduated from High School.

(Cooley wrote about all of this in his song "Uncle Frank". Jason also wrote about this, from an opposite point of view, in his song TVA, which he wrote before he ever heard Cooley's song and way before he joined our band.)

Meanwhile in the early 60's, Rick Hall is still hard at work learning to record and produce. He has his first success with a song called "You Better Move On" by a bellhop from a local hotel named Arthur Alexander.
(It and another song called "Anna" were later covered by The Beatles and The Rolling Stones).

Not long after that, James and Bobby Purify hit gold with "I'm Your Puppet". My father played trombone on that track (his first recording session).

Also around that time, in another smaller studio that had sprung up, Percy Sledge recorded 'When A Man loves A Woman".
Rick Hall forwarded a copy of that song to Jerry Wexler, a very successful producer and vice-president of Atlantic Records.
Atlantic released the song and it became one of the all time biggest hits ever.

Wexler, fascinated by the sounds coming out of this remote area (no interstate access, a tiny airstrip, "Can't Get There from Here" as they say) came down, bringing Wilson Pickett with him.
They recorded "Mustang Sally" and "Land Of A Thousand Dances" and many others there.

Next, Wexler brought Aretha Franklin to town, recording "I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You)" and "Do Right Woman" the first night.

The story veers wildly there, and I'll save that for a future dispatch, but at least you get a little taste of where we came from and why it was important to us to go back there and record.

Last week, we went to FAME Studios and recorded for the first time there.
Not long after the story I just told, my Father and his partners left FAME and started their own studio (Muscle Shoals Sound Studio)
The Rolling Stones, Paul Simon, Bob Seger, The Staple Singers, Willie Nelson, Jimmy Cliff, Traffic, Cher, Boz Scaggs, Rod Stewart, are just a few of the artists that they recorded with during the heyday.
Until a year or so ago, I had never set foot in FAME Studios.

Back in the 70's, as you entered town, the city limits sign announced "Welcome to Muscle Shoals AL. The Hit recording Capitol of the World".
It was no idle boast.

The signs are long gone now, as are most of the studios.
The original site of Muscle Shoals Sound is inactive and the multi-million dollar facility that replaced it is for sale. (My Father and his partners sold it nearly 2 decades ago to MALACO Records, a small blues and R&B label out of Jackson MS).

FAME, however survived, due to a mix of diversity and determination. Rick's sons Mark and Rodney operate it and the very profitable publishing company it spawned.

< TO BE CONTINUED >
- Patterson Hood - January 2004


Tornadoes (or too many goddamn train songs) by Patterson Hood

Adam’s House Cat would frequently go months without a gig. Certainly not for a lack of wanting to play, hell, we loved to play more than most. We practiced all the time. Chuck had to drive 75 miles each way to practice through hellish traffic, and still we frequently (at least in those early days) practiced three times a week. We wrote prolifically and had well over 150 (somewhat) original songs.

Once we decided to write a concept album (remember, this was the mid eighties, just to show how out of touch with the trends and times we were). An album of train songs. I always loved train songs. My granddad was a hobo back in the 1930’s. He was twelve years old at the height of the depression and he split for two years. He lived in box cars and saw the whole country at appoint in time that will never exist again. At fourteen he came back home and no one ever asked him where he’d been or even acknowledged that he had ever left. Two of my earliest memories were of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” and a lullaby that my grandmother (Sissy) used to sing to me as I went to sleep. “One night it was dark and was storming, when along came a tramp in the rain He was making his way to some station, to catch a long distance train.........”

We wrote eleven train songs, each using the (admittedly overused) train symbolism for something else. As a band we were eclectic as hell so each song was stylistically different from the others. We four-tracked the thing and for a short time sold cassettes of it at gigs.

Around this time, we had a song that appeared on a nationally distributed compilation. We got some national and regional press and went out and played more than we ever had. In the fall of 88 we played forty shows around the southeast and bad luck met us at every one. (In retrospect, considering what morons we were, we actually got off fairly easy, but at the time we were generally freaked out and pissed). Early on we called it The Nightmare Tour. During this period, Mike’s father died of cancer, one night we had over $1500.00 worth of equipment stolen out of the back of our truck. (We toured in a 66 Ford pickup). One night in Tuscaloosa I had my wallet lifted with our entire door + my day job payday (two weeks worth). We were to end the tour with a homecoming show in Florence AL. (Florence is one of the quad-cities that makes up the Muscle Shoals area in northwest Alabama. I lived there for twenty eight years). It was the early 80’s before it was legal to sell alcohol there. (When I was in high school we drove up to the Tennessee state line to by beer and over an hour to Savannah TN to buy liquor). Even today, the local laws and regulations make it a particularly tough town to run a bar, and the few who did were more inclined towards booking big-hair cover bands with truck loads of lights and equipment. Our closest home gigs were in Huntsville or Birmingham (an hour to an hour and a half away).

For our homecoming show, we rented the old Shoals Theatre. We rented a big enough sound system, hired an opening act, and bought ads in the local paper and radio. We expected to draw four to five hundred (and I’m sure that at that time we could have).

At around 5:30 that day, while we were having soundcheck, a tornado went through the area destroying a truck stop and a bunch of homes (mobile and otherwise). Seventeen people came to our show and the next Monday I had to take out a loan to cover the debts that we incurred. Because of our recent press attention, a couple of big record-company guys (from Nashville, two and a half hours to the north) came down to see us. One of them had seen us earlier that fall and had assured us that we were going to be the “next big thing”. He was bringing his business partner with him. Unfortunately, he missed his turn in Athens AL. and drove another hour south before he realized it. He headed north up the two-laned 157, right into the heart of the storm. By the time they got to Florence, they were both very tired and very cranky. Seeing us play our set in the cavernous empty theatre only added to their misery.

After our set, the big record company guys and I went across the street to Cobblestone’s Restaurant to have a drink and discuss the show. They were gnarly and I was downright depressed. The partner asked “So, what’s the deal with all the goddamn train songs?"

The next morning, I had to be at work at 8:00 am. When I walked into Ken Nix Pharmacy, the newspaper gave full coverage of the tornado and it’s damage. The headline quoted an eyewitness. “It Sounded Like A Train”.

I wrote one more train song.


TORNADOES (originally titled “It Sounded Like A Train”)
The clouds started forming 5:00 PM
The funnel clouds touched down five miles north of Russellville
Siren’s were blowing, clouds spat rain
and as the thing went threw, I swear, It sounded like a train

It came without no warning said Bobby Jo McLean
She and husband Nolen always loved to watch the rain
It sucked him out the window, he ain’t come home again
All she can remember is it sounded like a train

Pieces of that truckstop
litter up the highway
I been told.
And I hear that missing trucker ended up in Kansas
(or maybe it was Oz)

The Nightmare Tour ended for my band and me
the night all the shit went down
a homecoming concert, the night the tornadoes hit my home town
The few who braved the weather were sucked out of the auditorium
I can still remember the sound of their applause in the rain
as it echoed through them storm clouds, I swear, It sounded like a train.

lyrics by Patterson Hood
music by Adam’s House Cat (Cooley, Cahoon, Hood, and Tremblay)
written November 1988
©1989 Cat House Music
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Smitty »

Dear Easy B,
Is it possible to learn suavity or easiness, or both? If so, what would be a good order to learn them in?
If it isn't possible to learn these things, what's a poor boy do?
-Nolan Voight, International Playboy

Nolan,
All you really need is large amounts of weed and a good cable provider. - EZB


----------------------------

Dear Easy B,

Here's my question:
I know a lot of crazy things happen on the road with the Truckers, what's the craziest thing to happen (at least what you can tell)??
-tommy

Tommy,
The time we killed that guy-SHIT-I mean the time we almost killed that guy in Kansas City. -EZB


----------------------------

Easy B, Can You Tell Me?

What did we use before toilet paper?
Thanks,
Betty Poop

Ms Poop,
Capricorn record contracts.
-EZB

----------------------------

Dear Easy B,

Can humans really spontaneously combust? If so, which one of the Drive-By Truckers will go first?

Your friend forever,
Dave the Stripper

No contest, that would be Mike (stinkypants) Cooley. - EZB

----------------------------

DEAR EASY B,

WHY DO OLD PEOPLE SHRINK?

PAT

SHIT! You mean I'm not getting taller? - EZB


----------------------------

My Question For The Great And Easy B Is As Follows:

What was your first drum set and how much did it cost?
TRUCKERS KICK ASS!
Thanks.
Paulie

My first drum set was a five piece CB700 set.
And I paid way to much for it. - EZB

And I paid way to much for it. - EZB
Last edited by Smitty on Sun Jun 22, 2014 2:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

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Somewhere in Alabama, there are two towns with the same name. The neighboring communities were at war with each other and each bitterly claimed the right to the name. It was not a particularly fancy or memorable name, but maybe it was a matter of pride. At any rate, they sued each other and counter sued and each issued official proclamations condemning the other. It seemed like they were about to fight it out in the streets when someone suggested they both keep the name but one add a dash to the middle of the word to differentiate. Finally there was peace, but it was short-lived. In the spring of 1974, a tornado went through both towns leaving death and destruction in its path. The April Twister virtually wiped both towns off the map. Survivors from both communities set up shelters and opened up their homes to each other.

The same tornadoes hit my hometown that night. One of the tornadoes blew the roof off of my elementary school and a bunch of houses in my Grandmother’s neighborhood. Out at my Great Uncle’s farm, dozens of trees were uprooted, leaving a tangled jungle of oaks and elms. In the imaginations of my cousin and me, it became a war zone for our make-believe armies. I was about nine and Walking Tall was playing at one of the only movie theatres in town. Sometimes we’d play a game based on that movie, too. Tommy was bigger than me, so he always got to be Buford Pusser, the mythical redneck sheriff who carried a big hickory stick and busted up the stills in nearby McNairy County. We both drove go-carts through the hills and fields and through paths my Great Uncle cut for us in the wooded lot. Even then, I kind of liked the idea of playing the outlaw.

My family’s farm is located in the McGee Towncommunity, less than a mile from the farm where Sam Phillips grew up. In the fifties, Sam Phillips discovered young Carl Perkins and produced his landmark hit “Blue Suede Shoes.” Sam had told all of his acts that the first one to hit number one would get a brand new Cadillac. Everyone probably expected Elvis to win that Cadillac, but Perkins got there first. The Cadillac was then charged back to him against his royalties. Welcome to the Music Industry. At least Perkins actually got to own the Cadillac he paid for.

Around the same time as the tornado, Cooley’s father took him to see Carl Perkins play at the Hayloft Opry in downtown Tuscumbia. Young Cooley had his mind blown by the show he saw. This was the show that first turned him on to the power of Rock and Roll. A few years later, Brad’s parents were in Memphis on business when they saw the ambulance pull out of Graceland. They were just there by chance.

Out of curiosity they walked up the drive and saw one of Rock and Roll’s saddest chapters play out. Their home movies have footage of the flowers of mourning at the Graceland gate. A few years later, Jason and Shonna were each born into proud, hard-working families with rich musical backgrounds. They both grew up (10 or so miles apart) listening to Johnny Cash and bluegrass. Jason used to raid his Daddy’s record collection, listening to the ‘70s arena rock that had been such a part of his fleeting youth. Later, Jason moved to Memphis (as had Cooley and I a few years earlier). Shonna, who grew up in Killen, stayed in the Shoals area, where she became a very respected member of that area’s long musical tradition. She and Jason played in various bands together until we “borrowed” him a couple of years back…..


Such is how things are down here.


Welcome to The Mythological South. Some of the stories we’re telling here happened some time ago. Many are set in the mid-seventies and early-eighties. Don’t really matter when or even if it happened. A couple of stories come from folklore of nearly a century ago. Some of it happened last night. Perhaps you heard the commotion. The newspaper might have told part of the story. Some of it we totally made up. It’s only true if you believe it. It’s only a lie if you don’t. You might have seen it happen, or perhaps you weren’t really looking. Maybe it’s someone you once knew, wherever you’re from.

The South is a geographically beautiful region. Big rivers cut through red clay hills, green grass and shady trees. At least it was that way before they strip-mined and strip-malled us into bland suburbia and conformist complacency. Our factories are all shutting down and our farms are being replaced with poultry plants. Hell, even our small towns have sprawl. In some cases, the sprawl predates the town. Many of the hard times being sung about in these songs have been replaced by even harder times. Sam’s Club has got baloney in them big ol’ sticks and we got free samples out the ass but our small downtowns and court house squares are being boarded up and torn down.

Welcome to The Dirty South. It’s a tough place to make a living, but we ain’t complainin’, just doing what we got to do. Trying to raise our kids and love our women. Do right by the ones we love. But don’t fuck with us or we’ll cut off your head and throw your body over a spillway at the Wilson Dam. We’ll burn your house down. We mean business and it ain’t personal. Hell, I always liked ya. I might not want to get my hands dirty, but I got this buddy… In the end, I’ll continue loving my family. I’ll try not to fuck up too bad. Maybe I’ll live to tell the tale.


Turn it up to 10

and rip off the knob.

– Patterson Hood
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

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Smitty
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Smitty »

Lynyrd Skynyrd

By Patterson Hood, Special to MSN Music

The danger of becoming a mythological musical artist is that people spend more time talking about the mythology than listening to the music. Truly, few bands have ever been as beloved and successful -- and mythological -- as Lynyrd Skynyrd, yet here it is, 2006, and they're only now being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame -- nearly a decade after their eligibility.

Before they were martyred by plane crashes and car crashes and heart attacks and more tragedy than a Tennessee Williams play, Lynyrd Skynyrd were a bunch of poor Florida boys who grew up in a tough part of town, practiced their music relentlessly and hit the road with the kind of vengeance reserved for those who felt the desperation of poverty bearing down upon them. These were boys whose best-case scenarios tended to be getting a job at the Ford plant. They played 300 nights a year. They were street kids who beat the shit out of each other, with the last one standing getting his way. Ronnie Van Zant was not a big man, but he was a force to be reckoned with. He drove his band hard and took them to unbelievable heights.

Of course, it took me a long time to notice or care.

Lynyrd Skynyrd's plane crashed into a southern Mississippi swamp in October 1977, about a month before the American release of the Sex Pistols' first album, "Never Mind the Bollocks." By the time I entered high school the following year, my taste was running more toward the Clash and Elvis Costello than anything remotely "Southern rock," and so it was for the next couple of decades or so. I rediscovered Lynyrd Skynyrd in my mid-30s, a time when all I listened to was old country and soul records. Hearing Skynyrd in the context of Merle Haggard, Hank Williams and Loretta Lynn, I was awestruck by how well they compared, especially the songwriting.

My rediscovery of this music followed an 18-year period of trying to avoid it. I grew up in a town where no one was being ironic when they yelled for your band to play "Free Bird" -- and they often beat the shit out of you if you didn't. I was fired once for refusing to play "Sweet Home Alabama," a song that mentions my dad in its fourth verse. "In Muscle Shoals they've got the Swampers" refers to my father's years in the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section playing on R&B records in the '60s. Lynyrd Skynyrd did their very first recording sessions in the same studio as my father. I grew up hearing their music and hearing stories about them -- tall tales of wild men who drank hard and fought harder, a band of mythological dimensions, except they were "from around here." They returned to my dad's studio, shortly before the plane crash that ended their incredible run, to prepare those old demos for what was to be their next release. The album in question, finally released after the accident, was called "Skynyrd's First and Last."

Jimmy Johnson, who'd recorded Wilson Pickett and the Rolling Stones among others before co-producing "Skynyrd's First and Last," said that he never saw a band come as prepared and rehearsed as Lynyrd Skynyrd. Though their parts were meticulously planned, they were played with fierce abandon. Ronnie's wasn't a blessed voice, but he worked it until he became quite a forceful, soulful singer. Best of all, the songs were beautifully simple in structure and wording, yet solid as a rock in their construction and effect.

1977 found the band moving forward and getting stronger than ever before. The Southern-rock movement was waning, and Ronnie seemed to be positioning the band to be viewed more as an American rock and roll band to distinguish Skynyrd from the explosion of punk ignited by the U.K.'s Sex Pistols. Their live 1976 album, "One More from the Road," had been a multiplatinum seller, and the new one, "Street Survivors," was their strongest yet. On the personal front, with a new daughter to think about, Ronnie seemed to be cleaning up his act from the drinking, drugging and fighting that had been his legend. The plane crashed less than a week into the new tour, killing Van Zant, new guitarist Steve Gaines, his sister (and back-up singer) Cassie and their long-time road manager. The surviving members were torn apart by critical injuries as well as the loss of their driving force.

The story after that is something time and good manners will keep me from addressing here. The world has changed from those Jimmy Carter days, and Skynyrd's legacy has become clouded by death, tragedy and folklore. The mythology has at times threatened to overshadow the band's music, which is a real shame.

I began writing "Southern Rock Opera" nearly 11 years ago, shortly after rediscovering Lynyrd Skynyrd. In doing so, I'm afraid I helped highlight their mythology. As a writer, you can't ask for better story elements than Skynyrd's brilliant rise and tragic fall. My original idea was to write "Southern Rock Opera" as a screenplay, but alas, the thought of a Hollywood version of this story seemed worse than a nightmare (Leonardo DiCaprio as Ronnie? AGGGGH!). In approaching the story in song, I hoped to at least give equal time to the music and its many political implications. By addressing the contradictions that exist in their music and the phenomenon it spawned, I hoped that perhaps people like me would be able to better appreciate the vast differences between what the songs say and how they've been interpreted through the years by both their fans and detractors.

I applaud the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for finally doing the right thing and inducting Lynyrd Skynyrd into its ranks. Better late than never, I guess.

Patterson Hood is a songwriter and musician. His band, the Drive-By Truckers, have released six albums of acclaimed rock and roll, including "Southern Rock Opera," "Decoration Day" and "The Dirty South." Their seventh LP, "A Blessing and a Curse," comes out April 18. Hood also has a fine solo record, "Killers and Stars."
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

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Kudzu Guillotine
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Kudzu Guillotine »

Old publicity shots posted by Joe Swank on FB.

Image
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Jenn
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Jenn »

Kudzu Guillotine wrote:Old publicity shots posted by Joe Swank on FB.

Image


I recently found about 50 copies of this promo shot in my hope chest. I don't know how they got in there mixed in with all the Duran Duran shit, but I spared them from getting set out for the recycle man like everything else. If anybody wants one, feel free to hit me up. It'll cost you a self-addressed & stamped envelope.

-Jenn
どれだけ涙を流せば
貴方を忘れられるだろう
Just tell me my life
何処まで歩いてみても
涙で明日が見えない

alquina
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by alquina »

Thank you so much for sharing, Jenn! I also wanted to thank you Smitty for starting this thread, It's fantastic!

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by DiamondDave »

Here's the oldest pics I have....9-19-03 Continental Club Houston.

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"If I'm not smiling, I'm just thinking...."

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by dbtfan4life »

those are awesome pictures!!

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Zip City »

2003? Looks like 1987. And are we sure they're not playing a VFW hall?
And I knew when I woke up Rock N Roll would be here forever

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by DiamondDave »

Zip City wrote:2003? Looks like 1987. And are we sure they're not playing a VFW hall?



:lol:

Yeah that place was tiny, but fun.....I went backstage after the show & got a poster signed.....Cooley got pissed about something just before signing the poster below, someone said something to him, and ticked him off..he then threw a bottle or glass against the wall and told everyone to "get the fuck out!" Me & my buddy thought he was yelling that at everybody, but Patterson stopped us, and said wait..he seemed pretty amused by it, as did Jason...who ever it was that pissed Cooley off was removed, and shortly there after a very cordial and pleasant Mike Cooley signed my poster and offered me a drink.

Image
"If I'm not smiling, I'm just thinking...."

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Rocky »

Dave that poster is cool as shit. Is that Brad's signature in the upper right corner?
By the time you drop them I'll be gone
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by DiamondDave »

Rocky wrote:Dave that poster is cool as shit. Is that Brad's signature in the upper right corner?


Thanks....it was a promo poster we used in the record stores for "Decoration Day".
Upper right is Earl Hicks.....Brad might be upper left, but I don't remember.
Patterson is the big mess in the middle and Cooley is right above the Decoration Day album cover.
"If I'm not smiling, I'm just thinking...."

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by dbtfan4life »

kick ass poster and loved reading the backstory!! that might be Jason's signature in the top left

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by DiamondDave »

dbtfan4life wrote:kick ass poster and loved reading the backstory!! that might be Jason's signature in the top left


Yep!
Compared it to the signature I got from Isbell earlier this year...
"If I'm not smiling, I'm just thinking...."

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Kudzu Guillotine
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Kudzu Guillotine »

From the Nuçi's Space website.

2001
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Early Drive-By Truckers Benefit: DBT kicks off a benefit concert that would become an annual event for Nuçi’s Space. As their notoriety increased, DBT would
eventually move the location of these shows to the 40 Watt club downtown. The 2001 lineup included Rob Malone on guitar and Earl Hicks on bass.


2002
Image
Drive-By Truckers perform their album "Southern Rock Opera" all the way through for the first time - on our stage!

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zoid
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by zoid »

Cool.. That's Pat's Ibanez lawsuit Les Paul. I'm pretty sure that is in the Rock hall of fame now.


Quick edit to the post. Here's the RR HOF picture.

https://goo.gl/photos/smc5HME2gfgEiNk5A

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by OldCloverdale »

zoid wrote:Adam's House Cat first gig...
Image
Was this at a Pike fraternity house? If so, which one: UNA, Auburn, other? If not, why is Patterson wearing the ΠΚΑ shirt?
Last edited by OldCloverdale on Tue Sep 06, 2016 2:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Kudzu Guillotine
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Kudzu Guillotine »

14 years ago today at Pine Hill Farm in Durham, NC. This was the second of two acoustic house concerts the Truckers performed there. They would later go on to inspire The Dirt Underneath tours.

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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by Zip City »

Did someone hit Terry Gordy with a steel chair over there on the left?
And I knew when I woke up Rock N Roll would be here forever

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whatwouldcooleydo?
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Re: Vintage DBT

Post by whatwouldcooleydo? »

Zip City wrote:Did someone hit Terry Gordy with a steel chair over there on the left?
nicely done :lol: :lol: :lol:
Son, this ain't a dream no more, it's the real thing

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potatoeater
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Vintage DBT

Post by potatoeater »

There is probably a similar thread somewhere here but I am going to be lazy and start one anyway instead of searching. I got to diggin' around on the Wayback Machine tonight and wanted to share a few things I run across.

I am sure others here know of some treasure that can only be found on the machine. I invite those persons to please share the links with us.

*www.drivebytruckers.com will from here on be referred to as DBT.com
*www.ninebullets.org will from here on be referred to as 9B
For those who don't know, 9B would go on to become threedimesdown.com some time around April 2010

DBT.com Pictures Page August 2002
Image
Recording Pizza Deliverance at the Redneck Ramada (Patterson & DJ's house in Athens)

DBT.com Reviews & Stories September 2000

DBT.com Lyrics Page August 2002

9B Home Page December 2004

9B Message Board December 2004

9B Home Page 2006

oneofthesedays.org June 2006
I wish this site was still going.

pattersonhood.com 2005
A nice write-up about Killers & Stars from Patterson and a pre-mix version of Granddaddy that still works! If you keep digging through the pattersonhood.com snap shots you will find some really cool stuff. Very much worth the time!
I'd like to say I'm sorry, I'd like to say I'm sorry, I'd like to say I'm sorry...BUT I AIN'T SORRY!

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Kudzu Guillotine
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Re: Treasure From The Wayback Machine

Post by Kudzu Guillotine »

potatoeater wrote:There is probably a similar thread somewhere here but I am going to be lazy and start one anyway instead of searching.
There is, it's called Vintage DBT and was started by Smitty. Perhaps a mod will be kind enough to merge this post with that thread.

Also worth a mention is the dbts Yahoo Group started by Jenn in April of 1999. I was still relatively new to the Truckers at the time but found it through the Guitartown list on Yahoo Groups as there was a good number of folks that belonged to both groups. Prior to 9 Bullets and Three Dimes Down there was also a Truckers board on EZ-Boards (or something like that) which was short lived. I'm guessing this was in the early to mid-00's.

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potatoeater
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Re: Treasure From The Wayback Machine

Post by potatoeater »

Damn. I remember seeing that thread before. I should have searched. So yes, if a mod could move my original post there I would be grateful.
I'd like to say I'm sorry, I'd like to say I'm sorry, I'd like to say I'm sorry...BUT I AIN'T SORRY!

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