Marty Allen, D-Mac, and Rilo Kiley

The following is my column for next week's Arkansas Weekly.

The whiskers are back, and my grandmother is not happy.
“Are you growing a beard?!?” she asked me the other day.
“Umm…I don’t know…”
I had just returned to town after a week and basically threw away my razor during that time.
“Why would you want to grow a BEARD?!?” she asked me. “Why would you want to cover up that beautiful face?!?”
Now, I only mention that because she is my grandmother, after all. Her little Robbie is like a young George Hamilton in her eyes: thin, tan and Hollywood gorgeous. Never mind the fact that I’m the opposite of a young George Hamilton. I look more like a Marty Allen type of guy. (Marty Allen, for those younger than me, was a Vegas comedian. Do a Google Image search on him, and you’ll see what I mean about Allen being the opposite of George Hamilton.)
Back to my grandmother…
“I just think beards are so ugly,” she said.
“I’m probably going to shave it soon,” I said.
“Well, I hope so. Don’t know why you’d want to cover up that beautiful face.”
My little sister saw the whiskers as well that afternoon.
“Are you growing a beard?” she asked in a tone that sounded more like You’re kidding, right? “No,” I said with a sigh, “I’m only taking a break from the razor for a few days.”
“It’s red. That’s weird.”
At this point in the conversation I wanted to say, Well if you would have read my column from a month or so ago, you would have realized that, though I have had silver hair since I shaved my head, my facial whiskers have always been somewhat red. But then, you don’t read my column, do you little sister? Only our mother reads this column along with a few area English teachers who use it as a device to teach students how NOT to write.
Oh, woe is me.

* * *

By now, the Lucero Family Picnic will have come and gone.
Lucero, for those who don’t know, is a nationally known, Memphis-based rock band with an enormous following in this area. They’re extremely talented and also very nice guys.
Steve Thomas, the man behind Batesville Promotions, told me that tickets for the event have been sold to folks from Texas, Arizona, Colorado, Illinois, Missouri, California, Canada – even Rome, Italy (!).
If all goes well, the event will bring the Batesville area lots of tourism cash, will hopefully become an annual event, and will expose a lot of folks to this beautiful area we call home.
I’m hoping that I’ll be able to meet the folks from Rome.
I’ll show ‘em a good time in Batesville…maybe take ‘em to the Moose.

* * *

Everybody knows Darren McFadden, correct?
The Razorback running back and Heisman favorite is the Big Man on Campus up in Fayetteville, and one would think that he would like to keep a low profile.
So, it came as a shock the other day to see D-Mac cruising down Fayetteville’s Joyce Boulevard in his Razorback red Mercury Grand Marquis. The thing is I don’t know what shocked me the most: the D-Mac license plate on the front of the car, or the fact that the Grand Marquis – a grandmother favorite if there ever was one – was mounted on monster truck tires.
Not the huge monster truck tires, but tires big enough to keep the vehicle about four or five feet off the ground.
So, the next time you’re in Fayetteville, be on the lookout for that car. It’s not a senior citizen trying out for the next Monster Truck championship. It’s only D-Mac.

* * *

Now, for all the music folks out there, here’s this week’s playlist from yours truly – songs I’ve been listening to for the past week or two. Download some of these and enjoy…
“Radio Nowhere” – Bruce Springsteen, from his upcoming CD, Magic. It sounds as if Bruce has been listening to some Pearl Jam – and that’s a good thing.
Cold Roses, disc one – Ryan Adams. A two-year-old double album, disc one of Roses would have been more than enough. This single disc would have made the CD the best album by any artist in three or four years. Magnificent musical and lyrical craftsmanship.
“Silver Lining,” “The Moneymaker,” “Under the Blacklight,” and “Give a Little Love,” from Under the Blacklight by Rilo Kiley. I usually approach much-hyped bands with a bit of skepticism, but download these four songs from the California-based band’s latest CD, and you’ll realize the hype is justified.

Go, Bill, Go!

I mean, really, he's not going to kill someone with a friggin' golf cart...

"Radio Nowhere"

I heard the first cut off the new Springsteen CD, Magic, today. It's called "Radio Nowhere," and suffice to say, it completely lives up to the hype that's been steadily building with this album. This song rocks like no other Springsteen song. It sounds like a mix of The Clash, the Foo Fighters, and some other artist I can't place right now. It blows you away with its driving, LOUD guitars, and Springsteen's buried, yet vibrant vocals. It will sound amazing live.

And word is, the entire CD carries that same rocking vibe.

My station, Classic Rock 93 KZLE, will premiere the new Springsteen song during "Little Steven's Underground Garage" on Sunday morning.

October 2 can't come soon enough.

The Mo-Fo-in' Boss Returns October 2.

Look at that: a no shit, serious rocker. I may just camp out at the local record store until its release date -- which happens to be Oct. 2.

"If I could, I'd fold myself away like a card table..."

Something's beating on the wall on the other side
Strange lovers moan each other's names on by-hour sheets for the very first time
One of them's James
The other's some name she changes every time she lies across his bed

But the light of the moon leads the way
Toward the morning and the sun...
The sun's well on the way too soon to know, and...
Oh, oh my God, whatever, etc.

If I could, I'd fold myself away like a card table
A concertina or a Murphy bed, I would
But I wasn't made the way
So you know instead
I'm open all night
And the customers come to stay
And everyone tips but not enough
To knock me over
And I'm so tired
I just worked two shifts

But the light of the moon leads the way
Toward the morning, and the sun...
The sun's well on its way too soon, and
Oh, oh my God...
Oh, oh my God...
Whatever, etc.

Oh My God, Whatever, etc.
Ryan Adams and Brad Pemberton
from Easy Tiger
by Ryan Adams
2007

Silver Hair & Ryan Adams

Just call me Grizzly.

Like Grizzly Adams.

Only a thinner Grizzly Adams who can't grow a beard and has the skin pigmentation similar to Casper the Friendly Ghost.

I'll explain.

I've been roughing it for the past few days. I took the family deep into the Arkansas Ozarks wilderness, specifically a few miles outside of Jasper, near the Buffalo National River.

Actually, my wife and her sister put the trip together. They rented a big cabin in the middle of nowhere and invited various relatives. We all showed up with our cans of bug spray, sun block tubes and coolers packed with all types of eats and drinks.

The plan was to relax, enjoy each other's company, roast some marshmallows, and basically bask in the solitude and beauty of the Arkansas forest.

And I suppose for my wife and her sister, this plan was all fine and dandy except for one tiny problem, and that problem friends and neighbors can all be encapsulated in two words: Ned. Beatty.

You see, Julie and her sister have likely never heard of Ned Beatty. And, I think it's safe to say they've never seen the 1972 film, Deliverance.

I, on the other hand, have seen Deliverance. And a trip into any rural part of the South on a river known for its canoe excursions can always crank up the refrain of "Dueling Banjos" in the head of any person who has seen Deliverance.

I don't need to bore you with the plot: some city guys go floating, run into some hillbillies and before you know it, one of the guys is dead, and another is being chased around in his tighty whities by a demented, dentally-challenged backwoods freak who really loves the sounds of swine squealing in the forest.

And if you haven't guessed by now, the guy frantically running for his life clad only in his Fruit of the Looms is portrayed by the actor Ned Beatty.

So, my vision of an idyllic few days in the country was somewhat clouded by this terrifying, yet classic movie.

Needless to say, I packed nothing but boxers.

***

My Ned Beatty-fueled fears turned out to be completely unfounded, of course.

This place was fantastic -- lots of room, a big kitchen where we could all gather every morning, a large library with an intriguing selection of books, and most importantly, central air conditioning.

Sure, I realize Grizzly Adams never luxuriated in the manufactured cool breeze of air conditioning, but he and that big bear of his would have loved it.

* * *

The recent drought prevented us from a planned float trip on the Buffalo, but we did manage to head to a section called Kyle's Landing, a gorgeous bend in the river with a fairly deep swimming hole for the kids and surrounded by enormous rocky cliffs.

While the adults sat with our chairs in the cool water, the kids frolicked and swam in the shallow river. One member of our crew caught some crawfish with his bare hands (show off), and we decided to use the little crustaceans for some live fishing bait.

Dropping a stick he had found for his impromptu make-believe portrayal of the survivor dude on the Discovery Channel's Man Vs. Wild, my nine-year-old son decided to use the fishing rod and its fresh bait. After a few casts, he came up with a catch.

Since I was in my Grizzly Adams mood, I decided to do some fishing with some of the crawfish. I took the rod, freshly baited, waded out in the middle of the river, and cast my line into some shade-covered water near the bank.

Unfortunately, the line snagged in some brush hanging over the water. I pulled the rod. I jerked the line. I cussed under my breath. Finally, I decided to walk over to the bank and try to pull the line out of the greenery.

It was after the second step when I saw the thick, four-foot snake slither in front of me underneath the clear water.

"OOOOHHH BIG SNAKE! BIG SNAKE! BIIIIIG SNAKE!" I screamed. I snapped the line with one quick pull and sloshed back to the other side of the river in roughly three seconds flat.

I realize now that my reaction would have disappointed Grizzly Adams, but I'm sure the speed in which I ran out of the water would have made Ned Beatty proud.

You can write Rob in care of Arkansas Weekly, or e-mail him at rgmax99@yahoo.com. You can view Rob's blog at http://suburbanvoodoo.blogspot.com.

All Over the Map
by Rob Grace
August 1, 2007



I don't know about you, but seeing poor, cancer-stricken Tammy Faye Messner on CNN's Larry King Live almost two weeks ago was quite the shock. Unrecognizable, bone-thin and struggling for each breath, the former Mrs. Jim Bakker's appearance on the show seemed to be a fulfillment of her one final mission: a mission proclaiming that one can face death with grace, dignity and an unwavering faith.

Knowing that Mrs. Messner sought out King to speak to viewers about her final days and then knowing that the next day she had surrendered to her battle not only gives me goose bumps, but also reveals so much about her spirit and her faith.

Say what you will about her participation in the PTL scandal and televangelism in general, but what I saw on CNN that night was a woman filled with courage and strength practicing one final time what she so fervently preached.

* * *

And onto other things...

A Saturday or two ago (July 21 to be exact), I was in a Mountain Home grocery store skimming the latest issue of The National Enquirer. There were the requisite articles on celebrities who have gained a lot of weight in the past few months, as well as updates on the latest Hollywood marital implosions.

Then there was an article about Merv Griffin's final days. It seems that his son had been with the former talk show host and Hollywood bazillionaire in his last moments before his death from cancer.

The only problem was this: when I read the article on the 21st, Merv Griffin was still alive. Merv may be gone by the time you read these words, but I can tell you without a doubt, that on July 21, 2007, Merv Griffin was still with us on this planet.

Which brings me to this humbling revelation: if you can't trust the tabloids, then by golly, who can you trust?

* * *

I've written before in these pages about Ryan (NOT Bryan) Adams. He's a North Carolina-bred singer-songwriter with a musical output that would shame even the most prolific tunesmiths of our day.

Since 2000, the 32-year-old Adams has officially released nine studio albums. In 2005 alone, he released three impressive CDs, one of those being a double album. (Putting things into perspective, Bob Seger has only released one CD within that time frame.)

And note that I wrote these nine releases were official. I'm not including the seemingly countless amount of bootlegged studio albums from Adams, as well as a recent posting of 18 (!!!) full-length, unreleased albums on his website. (Granted, most of those web-only albums were bunk collected from Adams goofing around in the studio, but still...)

Which brings me to Easy Tiger, the latest album from Ryan Adams.

Tiger is a worthy introduction to this gentleman's musical blessings. Think of a 21st century Gram Parsons scrambled with some Grateful Dead (circa 1970), and you have Ryan Adams.

Adams and his talented band, the Cardinals, recently performed for a sold out crowd at the Germantown Performing Arts Centre in Memphis, delivering a performance that knocked me sideways.

Concentrating on a good portion of Easy Tiger and his three 2005 releases (Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights and 29), the primarily acoustic gig only solidified my opinion of Adams as one of our generation's musical wunderkinds.

So, trust me. Buy or download (legally, of course) a copy of Easy Tiger and introduce yourself to Ryan Adams.

Then after you listen a few times, go ahead and pick up some more of his albums.

They are all gold.

* * *

For a DVD rental this week, try the recently released 1978 film Straight Time with Dustin Hoffman, Theresa Russell and Harry Dean Stanton. If you've never heard of the movie, there's good reason. Hoffman, as producer and star, was so upset with the handling of Straight Time upon its release, he decided to sue the film's studio, Warner Bros.

The actor is mesmerizing as he plays Max Dembo, an ex-con struggling in vain to keep his record clean after he's been released from prison. A smug parole officer and some visits with a strung-out buddy do nothing to help Dembo's troubled assimilation back into society.

With his diminutive physicality and seemingly benign persona in many roles, an actor like Hoffman would be one of the least likely choices to portray a troubled, tense and violent criminal, but Dembo is his finest performance. He's a long way from The Graduate in this one.

Highly recommended stuff.

You can write Rob in care of Arkansas Weekly, or e-mail him at rgmax99@yahoo.com. You can view Rob's blog at http://suburbanvoodoo.blogspot.com.

Be Kind Rewind.

This has the potential to be a) really, really funny, b) really, really cornball, or c) really, really bad -- like...stinky bad.

I hope it's the former.