Good Money After Bad

When I wore a much more youthful appearance and could actually drink whiskey without having to admit myself to an ER, I carried a group of guys fishing every year. Within this group would be my guitar player, David Brashier, who not only plays extremely well but also writes.

During these fishing trips, we would usually sit around in the evening and listen to David play. I might chime in depending on my condition but there were many variables at play during those times and the odds were always a little dicey.

One evening, David would pull a song out of his hat and sing it for all of us around the campfire. The name of the song was "Good Money After Bad" which he wrote back in the 80s. For me, as well as my entire generation, the song resonates the bigger better lifestyle that all of us as a society strive towards whether we can afford it or not.

After the recent financial meltdown and just by chance, I listened to the song again on my iPod and realized that there was a lot more to it than what I had initially thought.

During these tough economic times, there has been much talk about where to place the blame on our current state as a nation. We've all listened to our administration blame the previous administration which is indeed humorous by all accounts.

But that's just one aspect of the big problem. A whopper of an issue is our way of life and the delusions that exist on what we think we deserve. We have to have that car and we have to have that house. And it's not just us. Our leadership included as they jet off to Spain for vacation or book Stevie Wonder for a concert in the living room. Sorry you don't have a job but I've got to get my groove on.

So it is with this reality on what America has become that I've decided to record this song. Since the lyrics were written in the 80s, I rewrote some of it to reflect where we are currently as a society as well as my feelings on our leadership in Washington.

I would simply request that you forward this link to as many people as you can so that they will buy this song and play it loud. Play it for yourself as well as your fellow man as America is in dire straights these days. And only you can save her.

Keep the faith and remember, go listen to some real music.


Purchase the MP3 below:

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/good-money-after-bad-single/id390329049

That Ain't Country

In 2006, friends Andrew Shapter and Joel Rasmussen, decided to make a documentary focused on the homogenization of popular music. I know. Big word that simply means to blend things that might not go together. In this case, they are referring to several things. Corporate America, strategic marketing, formulated music and finally, a pretty face.

For me and the music I’m so fond of, the fingers of big corporate America have managed to keep a safe distance. Which for my tastes translates into weak markets that don’t generate big revenues.

For instance, aside from a lot of other music, I love bluegrass. It’s a complex soulful kind of sound with abundant European influences. And the market for bluegrass music is so small, it remains pure and untainted.

So you’re asking yourself, what’s the big deal with Corporate America getting involved with the music industry? Simply put, when business mixes with art it’s like dogs and cats trying to live together. And too often the dog ends up killing the cat.

A great example of this is the now popular country music. And folks, I’m truly sorry but that ain’t country. If you think it is, you’ve lost your mind and need to immediately purchase some Patsy Cline and listen to “Crazy” because you are. Country music used to be about the MUSIC. Words that represented real life and not that it’s “Five O-Clock Somewhere”. Lyrics that told a story leading its listeners down a path of someone’s life. A life that was lived by a professional guest of real experiences.

So what kind of guy am I talking about if not the new country musician with a real tight t-shirt who does a lot of boating in the Caribbean? I’m talking Charlie Rich country. I’m talking Loretta Lynn and George Jones. These are people that I believe if had existed in today’s country music market would have made it as far as a joint on highway 80. And that’s as far as they would have ever gone.

Pat Green is a great example of this conundrum. At the heart of Pat is a real song writer and not a Justin Timberlake with a cowboy hat on. He’s the real deal and because he is the real deal, he will struggle against what’s marketable.

I know you, the reader, are busy. Which is why I try to keep my articles fairly small. But if you really love music, I would invite you to watch the documentary by Andrew Shapter and Joe Rasmussen. It’s called “Before The Music Dies” and you can watch it for free on Hulu.com.

So get yourself a glass of merlot and flip your laptop open. And don’t forget the earphones so you can drown out the cries for water from the kid’s bedroom. I don’t get that. Why do they get thirsty after you put them to bed?

Peace Out and remember…go listen to some real music!

The below is just a trailer and not the full feature film.

The Quail Hunter - An Endangered Species

Well here it is. Finally, the article that will make the earth move and the mountains shutter. A tradition that has remained at the center of the Holt House universe for over a hundred years and counting is now the topic of my article. And the issue? It may soon vanish with my father’s generation.

For as long as I can remember, I have gone quail hunting. And for as long as my high-school years would carry chores, I was the caretaker for over 6 hunting dogs at any given time. I took care of them, I fed them and I cleaned their pens every Saturday. And for reasons such as these, it will be the end of quail hunting with my generation.

You are speculating that my challenges on continuing this tradition are because of the amount of work that a bird dog entails. Kind of. But it’s not exactly where you need to be after an accurate assessment.

It is important to understand two things when reaching a conclusion on this issue. The first is the condition of my current generation. The second is the amount of time quail hunting consumes. And I’m not talking about pen-raised hunts. I’m talking about finding a lease, inspecting the lease, negotiating the lease, paying for the lease, setting up feeders, training your dogs or sending them to the trainer, working with your dogs, taking care of your dogs, booting your dogs, dog trailers, dog collars, shock collars, snake boots, shot guns and shells, snake venom kits, skunk spray, porcupine quills and wild hog attacks. And that's just for starters.

However, let us examine what has happened to our current generation as it compares to my father’s generation. A generation that hunted almost every weekend of my youth. And that’s not an exaggeration as now that he’s retired, he will hunt over 100 days this year.

A while back in doing some marketing research on my generation and attempting to understand our purchasing habits, I became acquainted with a sociology professor at Southern Methodist University. After much discussion, the reality of who and why I am was quite sobering.

After the great depression, there was a big push with America to never go back to that kind of life. A lot of women were daughters of mothers who had nothing and lived under some pretty difficult conditions. This would lead to a woman who strived for perfection in her household and the want for her children to have everything they needed. These would be the “June Cleaver” years where women dressed up everyday and dad would come home after a tough day at the office and prop his feet up.

When the sixties rolled around, a great number of women became restless with the 50s way of life. Resentment would begin to fester in women as men would generally come home and end their day the moment they hit the door while women continued their work throughout the remaining evening. This would be the years of “mother’s little helpers” and martini lunches. Being married and raising a family became a burden to a lot of women as men were not real involved. Historically, men were never involved. They were hunters then farmers and both of these jobs required long hours. A farmer, like my grandfather, would work from sun up to sun down. He plowed fields with a mule so it wasn’t expected of him to become real involved with raising the children. That was the woman’s job. Fast forward to the 50s and men suddenly had office jobs that would bring them home by five. The idea of the woman raising the children was left over from years past so you begin to see where the winds would begin to change.

During the sixties, women’s lib would evolve and they would become more active in the job force. Suddenly they could work and earn their own money. Given this new independence and the seeds of resentment beginning to sprout and blossom, the divorce rate would begin to rise.

Divorce statistics would continue to escalate on into the 70s and 80s not slowing down until the 90s tearing families apart and leaving a lot of children my age lacking confidence with the whole concept of marriage. This would lead my generation to not only marry later in life but something else. Fathers would now be involved with raising children and in a big way. The efforts now made within the family by the husband are tenfold compared to past generations. And this, good towns folk, will be the contributing factor that will diminish the sacred word known as “time”.

Combine the lack of time along with the enormous responsibility that is required for real quail hunting, the sport is beginning to vanish leaving guys my dad’s age wondering what will happen to something they love so dear. Aside from all the work that goes into quail hunting, it is a beautiful sport. To see a great pointer at work is true excellence. It’s really like nothing you’ve ever seen before as they run and cross the fields smelling for a covey of quail or honoring another point from 50 yards out.

I don’t know what will become of quail hunting. But I hope that the generations that follow will pick up the torch that shines on one of the last great sports.

May a man and his dog always represent something pure and genuine.