Zydeco!

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MEMPHIS! I love this place so much--and this time it's not snowing (though I still brought inappropriate shoes with no option for safer wear)! We got into town and checked into our West Memphis, Arkansas, Days Inn hotel (a real classy place) and then went straight to Beale Street. After finding parking and an ATM, I was in dire straits to get some catfish in me so, naturally, we headed a few blocks down to Alfred's. The catfish was amazing, and I got to see the Same Ol' 2 Step Band w/Lil' Guyland for a half hour or so. Although the band isn't the most energetic, there was the same little kid playing the squeeze box, which I'm impressed by. Maybe I'm just uneducated, but a six? seven? year old kid playing an accordion THAT well just floors me. Also got to see a bit of D-Will play (albeit on TV) since the game was on the television at the club.

After eating we headed over to King's Palace Cafe to hear Thomas "Big Hat" Fields & His Foot Stompin' Zydeco Band. King's Palace has a bit more of an atmosphere as far as the actual establishment, and Big Hat had a LOT more interaction with the crowd. Definitely gave it a down-home, small club, intimate feel. Plus it was hilarious. The drummer, the Kickin' Chicken, had a great sticker on his drum kit, about which many conversations were formulated around (pictures below).

Big Hat finished up, and we made our way a few doors down to Rum Boogie, perhaps my favorite place on Beale. As soon as we got there, the band took a break, so we were given the opportunity to play some pool (I won!), look at the signed guitars (Dave has one there!), and order some drinks. Once the band came back on, Little Malcolm & the House Rockers the place lit up again. Gooooooooooooooood band. I couldn't figure out who Little Malcolm was though; the guy next to me suggested it was the large man on stage left. Maybe.

Little Malcolm played for an enjoyable hour (time flies), and we went across the street to Silky O'Sullivan's, the only place with an "official" band still playing. And by "official" I mean a hodge-podge of all players of the bands playing in the festival... including the drummer from KP! By this time (1 AM), the majority of the patrons were both three sheets to the wind (much to our amusement) and part of the younger crowd either checking out Beale Street on a Friday night, or a casual follower like myself. I didn't go to Silky's last year; from what I hear it predominantly is a younger bar (which would make sense seeing the various college flags hung intermixed with the Irish flag, including, to my dismay, Indiana and Michigan) and be it the late hour or the fact that no other place had zydeco - there were a lot of people there. Very fun.

SATURDAY:
Rain, rain, rain... at least it wasn't snowing à la last year. Regardless, we had a good time. After hitting up the ever-classy Denny's for a early afternoon breakfast, we made our way over to the infamous A. Schwab's dry goods store. That place is ridiculous. While the store slogan, "If you can't find it at A. Schwab's, you don't need it!," wasn't exactly entirely true, the things we did find were definitely items most stores would not carry; for example, the store sells legitimate size 60 pants... I fit into one leg, and Keith fit into the other, with room to spare between the two of us. It was crazy. As was the hat selection. In fact, most of our time in the store was spent trying on the different hats the store had in an aisle. It was great.

After A. Schwab's, we made our way back to the Peabody where we had seen the ducks in the fountain earlier (we missed their trot down from their penthouse, but they were still swimming in their pool). Since there wasn't much we could do thanks to the rain, we ended up hanging out in the Peabody lounge playing cards until the ducks went back up at 5. I love the Peabody ducks...

Eventually, we ended up killing some time at Rum Boogie listening to a blues guitarist until the zydeco started. But first, before the festival began again, we had to have our ribs. Oh man. We went to Blues City Cafe for some racks. I could have eaten 39298423023 of them. So, so good. I never knew I'd enjoy barbeque that much, for as a picky of an eater I am. But, that's just the credit of Memphis barbeque. Again... so, so good.

Since it was just across the street, we started off the cajun music festivities at B.B. King's, where we got to have some great drinks, hear some great music thanks to Keith Frank, and see some great patrons (see Mr. Huge Belt Buckle Wrangler Man). After B.B. King's, we made a stop at the car to deposit some of our acquisitions of the day, and then went back to Beale--Pig on Beale to be exact. At Pig, we had some "Big Ass Beer" and got to hear a couple of acoustic guitarists play for a while. We also got reprimanded by the waitress for playing cards. Apparently, that's illegal. Seems as though Tennessee is just a place where I like to flirt with the law (see: being threatened by cops at Vanderbilt for using a "fake" ID).

After Pig, we were hungry again so we went back to Rum Boogie for some chicken. Sharp and I had the wings, Keith had chicken on a stick. Very, very good. I love the food in Memphis: catfish, ribs, and wings... and a lot of Jack Daniels. Not a bad deal. Little Malcolm was playing again at RBC, and it was quite enjoyable as it was the previous night. They're a real energetic group. Once we finished eating, we decided to perhaps give another club a try, as much as we loved Rum. We momentarily went into Blue's Hall, but since it was packed, and Rum had a bit better atmosphere, we ended up right back there until the band finished at 1:30 or so. We got to see another appearance of Miss Mojo (this time with a visible tattoo on her chest, which I have to say was the size of a large dog). Miss Mojo was also at Silky O'Sullivan's, where we went after Rum, just as we did Friday night. Silky's again proved to be nothing less than hilarious, especially since we got to see some of the same people from the night before (read: the best tag-team ever, silky pants, and a plethora of drunks shamelessly displaying their inebriation). Sharp orderd a diver, which was very strange; good, but strange. My taste buds couldn't settle on what kind of alcohol it was: beer, wine, or liquor. Roy Zydeco was there again, minus my drummer friend, and failed to disappoint, especially when they busted out a jazzy rendition of Jambalaya. It was sad when the band finally packed up at 2:30.

We ended up staying at Silky's for a bit more, thanks to the antics of Mr. Silky Pants and the fact that no one lectured us for playing cards. That, and the diver still had to be finished. We tried our best, but failed to finish it. Next time, next year. As always, it was sad to leave Memphis. I had a great, great time.

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