I spent much of my last afternoon cultivating a sunburn while walking the streets of St. Louis, stopping first at the Soulard Market, which wasn't as breathtakingly cool as the Twangfest Guide to St. Louis made it out to be but was still a good time. And I had my first taste of beignets for breakfast. And I declare them good. Then again, anything that involves dough and frying is gonna be just fine with me.
After an hour or so at the Soulard Market, I set out for Cherokee Antique Row. That's right. I went on an antiquing expedition. When I start having sex with guys, it's gonna surprise absolutely no one. In any case, I was hoping to find a cool Western shirt or two. I finally did, but up in the Delmar Loop, not in the Cherokee District. There looked to be a cool store with lots of antique radios on Cherokee, but the owner seemed content to stay inside and keep the front gate locked. Interesting business strategy. I also nearly ended up buying an old movie drive-in speaker at one of the shop(pe)s, until I realized that would be really stupid. Yes, sometimes I come to realizations like that. Rarely, but it does happen.
On the way back to the hotel, I figured I oughta at least take a quick gander at the Anheuser-Busch Factory. So, I took a 10-minute stroll through the gift shop and the displays in the visitor center and that was enough for me. For the record, if you're looking to buy something that says "Anheuser-Busch Factory" in the gift shop, you'll have your choice of about 5 things out of 500. They seem more content to just sell generic Budweiser gifts. So if you want something that actually commemorates something other than your pedestrian taste in alcohol, tough. But you can get a pint glass with the Budweiser logo on it. Wow!
Speaking of beer (wicked segway!), Mic Harrison and Scott Miller's "Cold Beer Hello" duet on the last night of Twangfest was probably my favorite Twangfest moment. The two were members of the V-Roys, who put out three really good CDs (two studio, one live) on Steve Earle's E-Squared label before calling it quits. I'd only had the chance to see them once before they quit (at Maxwell's, opening up for Los Straitjackets), so I'd always wanted to catch one of Miller and Harrison's occasional shows together, during which they do their own sets and then do one or two songs together at night's end. And Twangfest X finally gave me that opportunity.
Mic Harrison opened the evening, backed by the High Score. It was also the first time I'd seen Harrison leading his own band (he was in Superdrag for awhile after the V-Roys), and I was impressed with the power of both Harrison and the High Score. They did one V-Roys song ("Over the Mountain") and one song off Scott Miller's new CD ("The Only Road") as part of their set (without Scott) and were by far the best opening band of any night of Twangfest. They surely sounded better than the band that followed them, Lucero, whose lead singer, to be fair, seemed to have been overserved.
Scott Miller and the Commonwealth followed Lucero and kicked their usual ass. The fact that I've planned two of the three solo vacations I've taken in my life around Scott Miler and the Commonwealth shows should tell you what I think about him. At turns self-deprecating and a touch cocky, Miller's one of the more engaging lead singers I've seen. And the Commonwealth, anchored by drummer Shawn McWilliams and with a new guitarist since I'd seen them last, are the perfect backing band—not upstaging the lead singer but not laying back and being spectators either. Go see them when they come to your town. They have the coveted Sigman Seal of Rock Approval.
The main set ended with the "Cold Beer Hello" duet, which in true V-Roys style, had the drummer and guitarist switching instruments and Miller admonishing Harrison for drinking something other than a cold beer while singing the song. Harrison also joined in on the last encore, singing a song the two wrote together, "Earthly Pleasures." Maybe seeing the two V-Roys lead singers on stage together means nothing to you, but seeing and hearing them do those two songs together was one of the musical highlights of the year for me.
BR549 headlined the last night, and since I had a 7 a.m. flight in the morning and had seen BR549 three times already this year, I was not sticking around to see Twangfest's conclusion (which apparently ended with the Blueberry Hill sound guy pulling the plug on the band at 1 a.m., which apparently is closing time). One of the event's organizers tried to convince me to come to the afterparty at the airport hotel, but I explained the situation (hotel—and luggage—is downtown...I have to be up at 5:30...no, I'm not going back to the hotel to get my luggage so I can go to the airport hotel, stay up all night and watch everybody get drunk, and stumble over to the airport at 6:30) and expressed my regrets. But to be honest, I don't really have regrets about that. I'm not an afterparty kind of guy. I'm rarely a beforeparty guy, sometimes a party guy, but almost never an afterparty guy. It's not that I'm antisocial, but, OK, it's because I'm antisocial. Sorry, world. Don't take it personally.
***
Somehow, after a brief struggle to get my suitcase closed, I made it out of the hotel right on schedule Sunday morning and expertly deflected an offer of a $20 car ride to the airport from a hotel employee. Why pay that when the train ride costs, like, $3? They tried to convince me that the train might not be running at that time of day on a Sunday. C'mon, people. I'm no public transportation amateur here. I know the schedule, creeps. And, sure enough, the train picked me up downtown and I was at the airport about 45 minutes later.
After weather reports had been threatening them all weekend, thunderstorms finally arrived Saturday night and lingered into Sunday morning, delaying my flight a half-hour but not causing too much of a problem. Quite honestly, on about three hours' sleep, the plane could've been aflame and pelted with giant boulders for three hours and it wouldn't have affected me all that much. I was running on the fumes of fumes.
But it was worth it. I got to see and experience a new city, checked out a new stadium, bowled a game at the Bowling Hall of Fame, nearly touched a penguin, almost inadvertently slandered the St. Louis homosexual community, earned a real good sunburn, and saw some of my favorite bands of all time. Not too bad. Thanks, St. Louis. Maybe I'll see you again someday.
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