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Cowgirl Strippers & Sorority Chicks Get Closer to God in the Coffee House College BarTHE DEEP SOUTH 17 November 2009 |
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“Fifty bucks apiece, two one-hour sets, acoustic. We can play pretty much whatever we want. You in?”
Griff sat behind me in Abnormal Psych. He had a regular Thursday night gig at a little hot spot near the college but said his stuff was getting stale and he needed a partner with new tunes.
“Lemme think about it,” I told him. I was real active in church at the time and thought it would be considerate to run it past Brad, the youth pastor.
“It’s really just a coffeehouse,” I explained.
“By the college, huh. They sell liquor?
“Yeah. And uh, you know, food. Coffee. And stuff.”
He smiled, just a little. “Do they sell more liquor or coffee?”
“Liquor,” I confessed.
“You know, we sure could use someone to lead the singing down at Grace Place, Brother. If you wanna bless people with your talents…” Brad was a good guy, he was just giving me a hard time. “Sing a little. Feed the hungry.”
I pulled the neck of my tee shirt up over my face and fanned away the heat, trying to think of a good reason not to sing at the soup kitchen. I’d done those sorts of things before and they were almost always a calamity of ungodly proportions.
“The whole hair net thing.” I gestured around my halo of curls.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “So what’s the name of this place?”
“The Coffee House.”
“Original. And they really don’t even sell much coffee.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Brad slapped me on the back and laughed. “It’s cool, Brother J. Just keep your eyes open and go with the right heart.” He slid his arm around my shoulders. “And where ever you are–God’ll use you.”
I gave a somber nod to his heartfelt words.
“Go do your thing, man.” He goosed at my ribs until I giggled and ran away.
The coffee house was a dark, narrow space with low tables and couches around the edges, just down from the frat houses, right between Hairport Beauty Salon and E-Z Money Loans. Our stage was back against the left wall, about six feet up and no bigger than a kitchen table at the top. There was a steep set of stairs with wrought-iron handrails front and center.
“Who the hell built this stage — the Mayans?” Griff would moan. We’d hike our meager gear to the summit and play Otis Redding and Aerosmith. Prince. Pink Floyd. Haggard into the Backstreet Boys. Anything really.
Customers would watch from the couches with their heads pitched back like they were at the planetarium. Between songs they would clap politely and invariably someone would shout out Skynyrd! Once, barmaid Melly Mel yelled Skynryd! and I played a seven minute version of “Tuesday’s Gone” just to shut ‘em up, but sure enough not two songs later some other fool yelled Skynyrd! again. To that we offered a long medley, only not the stuff most folks know. We did “Mr. Banker” and “Curtis Lowe,” “I Need You” and “That Smell.” Nobody yelled Skynyrd! again after that.
One night it was busier than usual and people were actually making a little ruckus for us between songs. A raven-haired beauty of uncertain ethnicity pulled herself up the stairs and tugged at my elbow.
“Hey, hey,” she slurred. She was dressed in a tight black skirt and a low-cut western blouse that strained to contain the amplitude of her curves. A sketchy looking guy waited at the bottom, eyeing her backside as she leaned into me and shouted, “Play ‘Closer ‘by Nine Inch Nails!”
I looked at her, then to her fellow. He grinned like we were sharing an inside joke. The girl braced herself against the rail and stifled a belch. “Whoa,” she said. “I’m a little drunk. Play ‘Closer’, okay?”
“I’ve got like – an acoustic guitar here.” I held it up to prove my point. She pushed herself upright and ran both hands through her hair, leering and swishing her hips around.
“‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails makes every girl want to get naked.” She whispered this in my ear like it was a secret you’d climb a Chinese mountain to hear. The hem of her dress crept slowly up her thigh, her fingers pulling fabric against skin until the tattoo showed. Road Runner.
Two Phi Mus at the table stage left started whooping. “Play it!” said a thin tall blond. “Hells yeah!” the smaller busty blond chimed in.
“If you play it, I’ll do a three piece,” the girl on the stairs sang seductively.
“Three piece?” I said.
The sketchy guy stepped up, a twenty dollar bill between his first two fingers. “Three piece, dude.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sheryl here’s a dancer.”
“‘Closer’! ‘Closer’!” the Phi Mu girls chanted. Sketchy Guy laughed and laid the twenty on top of my guitar case. “Just play it, bro…”
“Okay, do this,” I told Griff.
boomp psst boomp psst boomp psst boomp psst
I nodded as he mimicked my beat box and Stripper Girl began to sway.
“Just dance, no strippin’,” I told her.
“What are you, queer?” she shot back.
“Don’t wanna get in no trouble.” I pointed to the owner, Ms. Becky, over at the bar.
“Get it nek-kid!” Ms. Becky yelled, raising her wine and giving her rear a little shake. I bugged my eyes out and made cutting motions at my neck. Stripper Girl’s fellow nodded at me and then said something into her ear. She nodded back, pushed him away and started a slow corkscrew towards the ground.
I waved the sorority girls on stage. “Help me.” They crawled up, smelling like two-for-one tap beer and junior high perfume.
“Whoo!” Tall Blond croaked into the mic, knocking our guitars with her bony knees. Griff gave me a harsh glare and gestured towards the mic.
boomp psst boomp psst
you make me wanna chase you
Small Blond eyed me from the side and punched my arm hard. “That ain’t the fu*kin’ words!”
A hush fell over the room as Stripper Girl arched back her head and tugged at the snaps of her blouse.
We made our fifty and another forty a piece in tips. Stripper Girl drank too much Kahlua and her fellow had to lead her away by the arm. At the door she broke free, kissed her fingers and held them out to us again and again. I caught her kisses and threw them out over the room. People cheered. Sketchy Guy shook his head and gave me a raised thumb just before he tucked her into the waiting car. Iroc-Z.
In the parking lot Tall Blond watched as Small Blond steadied herself against my shoulder and tried to put on her shoes. “I gotta quit getting drunk every night,” she rasped.
“Shua, me,” Tall agreed, poking a finger into her own chest.
“Girl,” Small told her friend, with the sort of truthful tone that comes to Southern girls when the liquor begins to wane. “We need to start gettin’ our asses back to church. Or somethin’.”
“Heard that,” Tall replied.
“Hey, we should all go,” I said.
Small Blond fluttered her lids and tried to focus around my face. The collar of her t-shirt was wet and the bottom rode up over her belly. She only had one shoe on. “I likes your hair,” she said, reaching out to pet me like a Spaniel. She put her hand over her mouth, made a sudden sour face, then shook it off and smiled. “What your name was again?”
I showed up to Grace Place the next afternoon, strapped on a hair net and emptied most of my tips into the offering box.
“Brother J! Glad you could make it!” Pastor Brad strode over, his bright Christian smile shining like the morning sun. “Where’s your friends? They coming?”
I pointed to the big picture window just past the serving tables. A silver pickup pulled up and parked. Two blonds in sweatpants and ponytails made their way to the door.
When they spotted me the lanky one sashayed her hips while the shorter busty girl batted her lashes and pulled her shirt open til we could see the color of her bra. Black.
“Oh Lordy,” said Pastor Brad.
Everybody laughed.
“Amen brother,” I replied.
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Amen Brother J.
Catching kisses and throwing them to the crowd is the most perfect thing.
I’m blowing you one right now.
Wow you read that quick.
I catch your kiss
& pass it on
kisses on the house
kisses all around
enough love
for all
You know how it is:
‘Fast game’s a good game..’
Zara Potts
is on the
one.
Skynyrd!
Awesome. Man, you showed those greedy bastards!
What do people up north yell for?
Joel!
Bruuuuuuuce!
But we don’t do it often, because we fear it will sound like booing.
Way far north, in New England, we yell J.T.!
Justin Timberlake?
J.T. Money?
J.T. Chavez?
explain.
It would be a crying shame to hide those beautiful curls inside of a hairnet! There must be another way. Perhaps you could be sealed in an acrylic box so sound and oxygen could get in and hair couldn’t get out.
(I want you to know that I had to zoom in to ridiculous proportions to read the title of the pamphlet covering your sweet face. You sure were wordy on your bio, there jmb.)
Wasn’t it worth it though?
Thank you
for calling my
face
sweet
Mama Z
Oooo, what does it say on the cover? I can’t zoom enough on my phone to read it.
Nothing earth-shattering.
“Did Jesus Wear Long Hair?”
I think the fact that
a religious organization
would publish a tract
titled
“Did Jesus Wear Long Hair?”
is pretty earth shattering.
OF COURSE He wore long hair.
Haven’t you seen all the pictures?
Paint me a picture
of Jesus!
I second that request for an original Zion Jesus.
Oh yes, please do.
I could do that. I have an idea.
It will take some organizing and cooperation from jmb.
I’ll be away after Thanksgiving for a month, but could do it when I get back home.
But all you guys have to force jmb to cooperate!
It won’t be easy.
Are you with me?
Nobody puts Blaine in a corner.
You forget who you’re speaking to. Beggin’ and I have our wayz.
It’s true! Don’t mess with us. Or do mess with us. I don’t know.
I was about to trash talk
when I recalled you girls
got me to pose in a dress
Don’t forget Lenora the Destroyer.
In the Four-on-One
TICKLE FIGHT
to
end
ALL TICKLE FIGHTS
I’m scared and giddy
all at once
Yes, Mama Zion.
Please paint us all a Jesus. Red velvet if possible.
What a treat to find you at the top of the list the first day I sign in to check out the new TNB. Your words always transport me to a bygone youth filled with mud-bog trucks, sweet tea, religion and, of course, Skynyrd.
You too?
At Grace Place once I heard that
this is what true religion is:
Feed the hungry
care for the sick
encourage the lonely
and hopeless
I try to remember that.
Thanks for your encouraging words.
Ah, what a great thing to start my day off with. This is great. I love the turnaround at the end.
One question: did you ever go back for a follow-up performance?
Turnarounds are a wonderful thing.
Yeah man, I was back the next week
up on the peak
playing silly tidbits of songs
Any place people are wanting to have some fun
they’re going to ask for crazy songs.
If you know where to look
there’s a You Tube of me
singing some
Two Live Crew
Ah damn. If the filter settings on my work computer didn’t prohibit me from accessing YouTube, I’d be on that like Lindsey Lohan on a fifth of Jack Daniel’s.
Wonderful post, brother. And that one line: “She whispered this in my ear like it was a secret you’d climb a Chinese mountain to hear…” Ah, music to my ears.
Yep. I’d climb many a Chinese mountain to read your words, my friend.
Thanks brother.
Our man himself
Brad Listi helped me edit this
and fix a little bad grammar.
He’s a good & giving guy.
Meet you at Gasherbrum
I’m with Rich – “She whispered this in my ear like it was a secret you’d climb a Chinese mountain to hear.” A perfect sentence that makes me want to climb a Chinese mountain.
And oh, how many gigs like that have I played? Too many to remember. Thanks for taking me back. I can smell the “tap beer and cheap junior high perfume.”
Like Exclamation!
perfume.
Let’s play the next TNB
live gig
only not tell anyone who we are.
We’ll do some
Rick James & Teena Marie
I try as hard as I can not to tell anyone who I am.
Fire and desire, baby. Fire and desire.
So weird. I spend most of my time trying to explain who I am. I think it will be easier when I actually know what I’m talking about.
Me too Ducky.
I tried for the first year or so on TNB
then leaked out a little at a time.
These are good people here
but transparency is so hard.
Here’s the plan: To keep them
off, I’ll be Teena Marie.
Well, I see we have consensus on the coolest line in this piece. Rich and Ducky beat me to it but it sure does jump off the page in a good way.
“goosed at my ribs until I giggled and ran away”
Really? Did you really just say that?
Dude. Pastors tickling boys… not cool, man. He didn’t touch you anywhere else, did he sugar?
You’re thinking Catholicism stereotypes.
This was Charismatic.
Charismatics tend to be a
touchy faith
Lots of goosing, tickling, random hugging
I kinda miss that.
I like random hugs.
Here’s one for you.
Still.
By the Commodores
is a really great song
Oh yeah? Is there a youtube of you covering that song too?
Not anymore.
You forgot swirlies. Lots of swirlies in the charismatic district.
I think Erika was in my youth group.
Yeah, I’m buzzing over the Chinese mountain line, too.
I love your posts, JMB. Always such a great blend of sin and glory. Except that I was kind of hoping by your excerpt that you got a request for “She Bangs” or “I Wanna Sex You Up.”
Tick tock get up stop stop to the heart.
The idea of you having to sing that tickles me senseless.
I almost nixed that line
because I felt like it would take away
from the piece.
When I was a kid
I read this line in a Chandler book
“She had the kind of body that would make a bishop poke a hole in a stained glass window.”
That was very influential for me.
Also my friend
let me tell you
I can do a pretty hot version
of Color Me Badd
That song is awesome.
I heard it the other day blasting
out of a gold Cutlass pulling into Pollo Loco.
I’ll bet you can pull off a smoking Rico Suave.
That’s a great line from Chandler. He was the king of that kind of comparison. After reading The Big Sleep I walked around for days spouting that stuff. Had to force quit that one. Reboot. At some point it gets under your skin like bamboo fingernail torture.
Sorry. It couldn’t be helped.
If I had been at the Coffee House that night, I would have requested an acoustic version of When the Doves Cry. I heard the best version ever at a piano bar on Beale Street once and have since then been looking for its equal. Then again, I requested it at another piano bar (this time in Boulder – on Pearl St.), and someone tipped the guys to stop singing it. You just never know.
Thank you for saying that.
Not to brag but my acoustic version
of When Doves Cry / Little Red Corvette
was pretty alright.
A really good song – is best sparse.
oh my, the lord works in strange and mysterious ways through your prose, brother J…….
That’s a good way to put it.
If you remember that the Lord
is strange and mysterious
it makes spirituality
a little easier.
At least for me.
You know, I genuinely believe that if those sorts of words were what you hear at the top of Chinese mountains, more people might actually climb them. Then again, I’m also a firm believer in transcendence via senses. Or something like that.
Also, I will see that acoustic cover of “Closer” and raise you a Gospel-by-way-of-Maxwell:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcJTnEHP1AM
(Will that link? Do I have to code it? Do you mind copying-and-pasting?)
Ah yes, love it love it.
Especially when he pulls the librarian out of the audience and does the little dirty.
Maxwell “Fortunate” is awesome but this version of Closer makes me
want to see Prince give it a shot.
And I’ve always wanted to hear Trent Reznor
do Darling Nikki.
Did you just say: “does the little dirty?”
oh my goodness. i love how you describe the look the guy gave you. like you guys were sharing an inside joke.
the stripper is right, though. there’s something about that song that gets girls in bars to go nuts. not me, because i am such a classy lady, but other girls.
Yeah but I didn’t get the joke
and I think he was like
“My gal here’s bout to show ya’ll her knockers.”
That sort of smile.
I asked some young ladies if that revelation was true
and it was like “Oh yeah.”
Hey classy lady
you could do your three piece
to Pumps & A Bump
By MC Hammer.
Long as I got a beatbox I can work up anything.
MC Hammer always gets me on the dance floor.
The Hairport. Man I love the south. Can’t wait to get back to Tennessee in June. I would kill for a 7 minute version of “Tuesday’s Gone” in a bar. Down here it’s all jukeboxes and karaoke in bars, and you can imagine what kind of talent that attracts. Have you ever been trapped drinking to Eminem all night, no matter how many bars you try? When I was in school the dirty song was “Ain’t no Fun” by Snoop. Hit the dance floor with that one and bra’s started hitting the wall. And these innocent girls knew every single word, especially the verse about ball licking.
You know the way you said that made me feel really good.
God Bless a good seven minute version of Tuesday’s GOne.
You got to let that song breathe man.
I learned something long ago,
girls are more dirty minded than the fellows
its just that they aren’t so shallow.
I’m no hardcore Skynyrd enthusiast, but I can’t help but point out that Curtis Lowe is actually a kick-ass song. This whole piece made me miss being in a place with a good bar/live music scene. For some reason, southwestern Oklahoma doesn’t really have a “scene” to speak of. You’d think in such a desolate place, they would turn to music for comfort. Nope. Juke-boxes with limited selection and no volume. It’s all they’ve got.
And to answer your question from an earlier comment, at least in Duluth Minnesota (which has an awesome live music scene, good hippie college town that it is) the only drunken screamed request I’ve ever heard was “TANGLED UP IN BLUUUUUE.” Kind of a random song to yell as a request.
Fun piece. I enjoyed it, as usual. Thanks for brightening my day!
Anytime someone says “Play me your favorite Skynryd”
I play Curtis Lowe.
Love that song, that’s good music.
“Closer” as an acoustic number. Ha!
I will now bore you with two request stories. At a bar in Hoboken, the place swarming with meatheads and the gals who love them, the lead dude from the cover band played the intro to “Jessie’s Girl,” as filler, while the other guy tuned up. They hadn’t intended to play it, but once he started — I don’t think he would have left the place alive had he refused. THere was blood in the air. For Rick Springfield.
And once, an acoustic duo from DC who went on to mild fame as Vertical Horizon, responded to the inevitable “Freebird” request…by playing it. That shut them up.
G
Oh man – the party mash-up band I played with
did Jessie’s Girl and that song brought it down everytime.
People love that song.
Women love that song.
Love it.
No shame in Rick Springfield.
I figured the way to deal with “Freebird!”
was to play it, and try to play it well.
My buddy does
Stairway to Freebird.
I love that.
Duuuuuude. I guess I should have intuited it from this piece, but I just clicked your micro-link to hear the song (I’ve not heard much NIN in my life) in the office.
Whoops!
I owe so much of my musical knowledge to you and your wonderful posts filled with the most exquisite cast of characters…
Also, am I dumb for still not knowing what a “three piece” is?
Like an animal Kimberly.
Love you like a Garanimal.
That’s what that fellow wants to do.
A three piece means you take off three pieces of clothes,
usually down to underwear no top.
(I was told)
Stripper Girl did like a one piece.
Do strippers not wear socks? Do socks count as one piece or two?
A garanimal. Now THAT is hilarious.
I *am* very matchy-matchy.
You don’t count the little pieces.
I think it comes from burlesque –
Song one you take off the top
then the bottom
then the bra but keep covered with your arms.
The tease you know.
@jmb
Just how do you know all this stripper stuff, exactly?
My favorite line was, “”I’ve got like – an acoustic guitar here.”
Hahaha. Nice.
And mine: “Griff sat behind me in Abnormal Psych.”
I believe my name is Griff(en) in an alternative universe, while in this one I certainly have an abnormal psych(e).
Highly entertaining piece. Many goodies sprinkled throughout. Pleased to see you on this new turf, courtesy of Pastor Brad.
Amen brother.
I don’t even know how you’d figure out the chords. And at least once a week I realize I should have been in a rock band. Women just go nuts over the guitar. Wow.
True. Women love guitar players. But you’d have been driven nuts by the petty squabbles and passive-aggressive mind games that go with being in a band, so, on the whole, I’d say you dodged a bullet.
Don’t forget drummers. Women like drummers too.
I don’t doubt that, man. However this also sounds like one of those things you have to experience for yourself.
“Nahhhh, you don’t want to sleep with all those scantily-clad women. It’s such an empty lifestyle.”
Haha.
Well, you’d obviously know better than I. But drummers are notoriously weird. They’re also apparently scarce. Here’s my quotidian dialogue with musicians:
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Looking for a drummer.”
What about one-armed drummers, Zara? Same attraction?
Our comments are nesting strangely, as per the usual.
But you’re talking about bands on, like, the Guns ‘n’ Roses level of old. A handjob in a broken-down van would be a lucky break for most of the knuckleheads I know, to be base about it.
Rumor has it drummers are the last to get groupie loving too. Heard that from many band members but nobody could tell me why.
Now, Rob. What good would a one-armed drummer be to me?
I don’t know much about groupies, but I know most drummers are goofballs. There are exceptions, however.
Maybe it’s different down here. In NZ, drummers are usually the best looking boys in the band. Not that I notice these things of course..
If he has only one arm he may be good with his feet?
I am getting some seriously disturbed visions right now! Do you know any one-armed saxophonists?? Ha ha.
The bass player is the last to get poon tang. Unless your band has a horn section, the bass player is picking up the scraps. And one arm drummers are only in demand for Def Leppard cover bands.
I heard all bass players were frigid… or C
Christian or something.
Or worse… Sting.
Somewhere I have a photo of me with Rick Allen, the one-armed drummer for Def Leppard. But for the life of me I can’t find it. The one time I could ever play that card…
Oh come on now… I know Sting got more action than the other two dudes in Police…
True. But he’s such a plonker.
Um, what’s a plonker?
Kind of like a dick!!
‘Only Fools and Horses’ is a good place to start researching the word ‘plonker’.
Didn’t Sting claim that he had sexual relations with his wife for 2 days solid or something? Like he was the first rock star to discover the wonders of cocaine and embellishment. Stuart Copeland was, is, and will always be the most talented member of the Police. We should get the band back together.
Apparently Bob Geldof started the rumour…
Three years later and now I learn
how to spawn comments…..
My only input here is
to say I have played every role in
a band -
Drummer, Bassist, Guitar
Vocals
and cant really say I saw much
stereotype in who was the goofiest
or who the girls loved the most
except that a bit of cute and cocky
goes over well.
Actually, I heard from a reliable source that Andy Summers was the true sex freak in the Police.
OK, my comments are coming out
placed weird
but to Haney’s Griff
comment
I really loved that line of bizarre thought.
Pastor Brad –
I never thought of that.
Listi is sort of our shepard here no?
Don’t you think Griffen is a great name? I do.
Yeah man I do
I think you should go with
Griffen Duke
as your nom de plume.
I’ll call you Griff.
But not Professor Griff
That’s another dude.
It was ridiculous I tell you
and somehow yet it happened.
I was just so ridiculous.
I was like “How are you going to even approach Closer
on an acoustic guitar?”
You’ve done it again. Beep! Beep!
Ah see
that was my favorite part
when she pulled up that skirt
to purposely show her bad girl tat
and it’s frickin’ Road Runner.
You can’t make up stuff like that.
Ah, I needed to read your words today, get that 11:59 perspective on the world.
That, and this has a damn good title.
Hey thanks
for saying that.
Crazy title huh?
I have perspective?
Damn it! I was going to yell out (in comment format): “Play Freebird!”
Before reading the rest of the comments, I thought of this as comedy genius.
Over here, that infamous saying translates as “Play some Chisel!”
That’s why I tried to get
Skynyrd!
in there early and beat ya’ll to the punch.
What’s Chisel?
I get the impression
Simon
that you know that
saying you thought saying Freebird! was comedy genius
is more comedy genius than actually saying Freebird!
Well you know what I mean.
You’re a daft one you.
Cold Chisel are the quintessential Australian band. Most Australians are born with the words to this song inscribed on their genes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmyEv4n8ERI
I likes you hair too! I want to pat it.
Yep, that’s officially the time to go home from the bar. When you’ve lost a shoe.
New Master of the Modern South. That’ll go on your book jacket.
Pony Power
you are my number one friendgirl.
In alternate worlds
we are always
laughing
in some bar parking lot
Put your shoes on, girl.
Even when you’re funny, you break my heart.
Well you know
thank you for saying that.
Little moments
and people trying to find their way.
I’m no apologetic
but I love that notion of God
being the Sort that’s saying
“Let’s find a way to get everybody up here
together at my place. That’d be nice, huh?”
If that’s naive or weak or simplistic
then call me all those things
I’m holding on to that hope.
Great work JMB. When you write I’m always sitting in the room with you and seeing from a different perspective.
You spoil me.
Lovely,
you deserve to be spoiled.
(That’s a good thing right?)
Always a good thing.
WOW! That world scares me, but it’s oh so awesome to laugh at. You capture it in a very real, but hysterically funny way.