AT THE FRINGE - RHINESTONES AND FRINGE, QUEENS OF COUNTRY

 

Singer Toni Finch returned this year with a country music review featuring the songs of Dolly Parton and another female star whom I didn’t know and whose name I can’t remember. (Sorry. I don’t go too far with Country & Western, being more Urban & Eastern. My western roots are that I was born on the West Side of Manhattan.) Lots  of the audience wore cowboy hats and boots, and stood up and cheered.         

STRING BAND

Another act getting ready for Artica in October. This “string band” has a name, which I didn’t write down and don’t member. If someone who sees this knows, let me know and I will edit the post. They played a variety of bluegrass-y and country-ish music, with some humor thrown in. Note the seldom-seen bass guitar.

By the way, I have my late brother-in-law’s banjo, which I can’t possibly play. If anyone would like it, let me know.              

Country Music

Lynn Owsley and fellow musicians performed in a rather small, uncrowded conference room at the hotel where the Steel Guitar Conference took place. It was an intimate setting for them, the audience and, happily, your photographer. The singer had a rich, nuanced baritone. Looks like a sad song from his expression. Country music is full of sad songs.

The smiling man in the red shirt is The Reverend Horton Heat, someone even I know and like. He and his sidemen were playing at the Big Muddy Blues festival that night near the river, belting out their style known as psychobilly. 

The bottom shot is another plaque in the Steel Guitar Hall of Fame. Just really like the name.

TOMORROW: 太鼓. No, I can't read it either but I know it when I hear it.         

Chris Burchett

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I suppose many City Daily photobloggers are always desperate for new material to post. I often go out wandering around the city on weekends, searching for something that catches my eye. That often involves certain favorite spots, like Forest Park. On Sunday afternoon, I was walking around the Grand Basin and heard the sound of music on the wind. I followed the sound and met Chris Burchett.

He was a young man with a guitar, a smile, a cowboy hat and rattlesnake skin boots. And what a musician. I listened to him play for a while, coaxing rhythm and melody from his instrument with lightning-fast fingers (more about which tomorrow). He's played jazz and rock but his thing now is country. Burchett is the first black country rock singer and recording artist to emerge from St. Louis. Go to his web site and listen to some of his stuff.

He said I could call him Cowboy.

Today's post on Downtown St. Louis 365 argues that bad architecture knows no boundaries.