Gram’s Place, Tampa, Florida, 23 January
2010--Gram’s Place is named in honor of the
late Gram Parsons, the legendary Central
Florida dude who introduced Southern
California and thereby the world, to
Country Rock. I didn’t know him, but am one
degree of separation several times over. I
don’t know Kevin Bacon either.
I had a conversation with Jim Roger McGuinn
back a few years in which Jim Roger
acknowledged Southern Cal’s immense musical
debt to Central Florida. Lotsa album
picker credits of that era feature these
guys from St Pete, Tampa, Ocala, Cypress
Gardens, Gainesville, Clearwater,
Auburndale and cetera. To name some will
omit others equally deserving, but Parsons,
Leadon, Petty, Corneal, Roberts, Stafford,
Lobo. Fred Neil even. It’s a big- ass list.
Anyhow, Gram’s Place also has a presence
maintained in honor of its founder, the
late Mark Holland, by his brother Bruce.
Ronny Elliott had told me GP is "about as
close to the old Beaux Arts as you’re
gonna get”, and he’s right. It is sublime
here.
Such that after a harrowing three days of
miscommunications, missed connections,
miscalls, my "just not doin it right",
transmission problems and a fender bender
wherein I was for the first time in my
long distinguished driving career the perp,
Robert and I found ourselves playin Friday
night here to 17 people. (Let me pause and
tell you we made big money.)
From all over the world they come-
Netherlands, New York, Port Charlotte,
Tokyo, to this true hostel (in America!) for
the music, the hostel's rooms named after
genre: Robert and I shared the Blues Room.
Robert Scott is a national treasure- all
along this trip people beenmtelling me how
great I is, but I know Robert gwine be
there wid dat root just when I need it, so
I can take my little touch-and-go flights
on the guitar. He makes it possible for me
to shine. It is an honor to be along on
the road with him. Tasty, tasty bass.
Anyway we played until we couldn’t do it
anymore, joined at the final finale by my
high school/Beaux Arts friend Llyn French,
nee Horner.
They were tearing up the furniture (if
tearing up the furniture means accidentally
knocking off a chair cushion while
dancing).
We had a great time and now the next day
I'm sitting up here in the crow's nest at
peace smokin and drinkin and writin.
If you're ever in Tampa, low on cash but
high on livin, stop here. Google Gram's
Place, Tampa.
The sun is setting low. I gotta go to
Sarasota and play for some nice folks
there...
