Kemah Boardwalk At Night (March 14, 2003) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Everything comes back, in the end, having meaning and value only if I give it meaning and value. Great art exist only because I bring it to life, actualized according to my purpose.
Houston Skyline Viewed From Buffalo Bayou Park (August 26, 2021) — Image by kenne
We are now nearing the final leg of our road trip that began on August 7th. We have been in many states from Arizona to Maine and have taken hundreds of photos, many of which will later appear on this blog with my observations. We are now in Houston, our previous home, before moving to Tucson eleven years ago, visiting family and friends. On Thursday of this week, we had lunch at Birraporetti’s, an upscale and lavish Italian restaurant/Irish bar in the theater/business district for over 30 years. Because of the pandemic and especially the recent virus spike in the Houston area, there were only two other customers in this large eatery/bar. This was not surprising, however very sad.
One of our stops in Texas after leaving Pecos was the the Texas Sandhills State Park. Here are a few images from our brief stay in the park. — Images by kenne
Texas Johnny Brown at Houston’s Shakespeare Pub — Photo-Artistry by kenne (Click on Texas Johnny Brown to see archived blog posting on TJB)
Texas Johnny Brown is a major talent who simmered on the blues scene longer than all the beef stew cooked in the ’40s, the decade when he first began playing and recording. Like pianist Johnny Johnson of St. Louis, Brown is an artist who did not get a chance to record a full album as a leader until he had been in the music business more than half-a-century. Also like Johnson, the results of coming in so late in the game have been a pair of highly acclaimed, prize-winning albums including the righteous Blues Defender. Brown can take plenty of the credit, since he has taken over almost complete control of his ow arranging, production, and mixing, as well as the string bending and blues moaning. He began his career as a sideman for the Duke and Peacock outfits in the ’50s about which discographers make comments such as “… the record keeping at that time was less than desirable.” As a result, some of Brown’s playing on releases by artists such as Lightnin’ Hopkins and Joe Hinton remains uncredited. The guitarist, singer, and songwriter began his professional career as an original member of the great Amos Milburn band known as the Aladdin Chickenshackers. Brown’s picking is killer on early Aladdin recordings by both Milburn, and on Ruth Brown’s first Atlantic sides. Atlantic allowed Brown to make a few recordings of his own in 1949, buoyed by the enthusiasm the label had for Milburn, who played behind his sideman on these sessions along with the rest of the Aladdin Chickenshackers. T-Bone Walker is the dominating force in Brown’s stylistic palette, an influence that was considered something of a driving permit for any guitarist venturing out of Houston during this period. Before finally getting the biggie recording opportunities in the late ’90s, Brown did an ARC session in Houston in the early ’50s that was never released. He also performed regularly with Junior Parker during that decade, remaining based out of Houston. As a songwriter, Brown’s most famous work is “Two Steps from the Blues,” a big hit for Bobby “Blue” Bland, with whom he also toured as a lead guitarist in the ’50s and ’60s. By the ’80s, he was considered only sporadically active on the blues scene, but this turned out to be only a temporary brown-out, so to speak.
I want to dance on your plains, Twirl in the rain, And let the drops fall between my lips Like the crevices of your canyons, Brought to life when you are, Slumber when you do, Live each day as you live, My sweet West Texas.
From the river’s plashy bank, Where the sedge grows green and rank, And the twisted woodbine springs, Upward speeds the morning lark To its silver cloud — and hark! On his way the woodman sings.
On the dim and misty lakes Gloriously the morning breaks, And the eagle’s on his cloud: — Whilst the wind, with sighing, wooes To its arms the chaste cold ooze, And the rustling reeds pipe loud.
Where the embracing ivy holds Close the hoar elm in its folds, In the meadow’s fenny land, And the winding river sweeps Through its shallows and still deeps, — Silent with my rod I stand.
But when sultry suns are high Underneath the oak I lie As it shades the water’s edge, And I mark my line, away In the wheeling eddy, play, Tangling with the river sedge.
When the eye of evening looks On green woods and winding brooks, And the wind sighs o’er the lea, — Woods and streams, — I leave you then, While the shadow in the glen Lengthens by the greenwood tree.