Return of the native

Ghosts out on the highway
Voices on the wind
Telling me we may never pass this way again
Voices on the highway, angels beckoning
Like a long lost friend

MILWAUKEE -- I said goodbye to Bradenton Friday but was too conflicted to mention it at the time. The Florida Suncoast was my home for more than 10 years and I'm sure I'll miss it more than I realize today.

If you've been following this blog you noticed I was headed somewhere. Up through the Panhandle, cutting north through Alabama ... must be making another journey back to Wisconsin?

Right you are. Those of you who know me were either aware of this move or could have predicted my destination. What nobody could have known -- even me, as it turns out --is what a lonely drive it has been.

It's never easy leaving behind friends and familiar surroundings. The longer you live in a place, if it's a good place, the harder it can be to leave. And that's certainly true about Bradenton. But you know something? It's been in my rear view mirrow for almost four days now, and the objects are no longer larger than they appear. That's a good sign.

Fare-thee-well, I'm bound to roam
This ain't never been my home

I have a hunch Steve Earle misses Nashville more than he lets on in "Goodbye Guitar Town.'' Maybe not. He certainly has transitioned nicely into NYC. A town does tend to have its way with you over time, and that can rub you either right or wrong. But Nashville, even with its warts, is a terrific place.

So is Milwaukee. My old tromping grounds, and now my new home. The only traffic jam of my three-day, 1,500-mile trip came yesterday afternoon, on my way through the city, and it was a beautiful thing. It was the crowd leaving Miller Park after a Brewers game. Damn it's good to be home.

I had this John Prine song in my head the whole trip up:

I'm gonna get on that old turnpike and I'm gonna ride
I'm gonna leave this town 'til you decide
Which one you want the most those Opry stars or me
Milwaukee here I come from Nashville, Tennessee

It wasn't easy to blow through Nashville without stopping, but I was a man on a mission. And now that I'm here in Milwaukee, who knows? The rain has stopped and the winds have subsided. There's got to be a break in the clouds somewhere, a place where a ray of light shines through and points the way to Indian summer.

I think I just saw it, and a good thing. I start my new job tomorrow.

Hank Williams lived here for a spell

 GEORGIANA, Ala. --Nothin' ever happened 'round my hometown
And I ain't the kind to just hang around
But I heard someone callin' my name one day
And I followed that voice down the lost highway

Earlier today I found myself on the Lost Highway, a designated 50-mile stretch of I-65 that cuts through the pine country of central Alabama. Hank Williams grew up in Georgiana, and signs pointed me to his childhood home at 127 Rose Street. The white woodframe house, just a block from the railroad tracks, now serves as a modest museum to the father of contemporary country music.

They sell T-shirts, caps, books, magnets, photos -- even copies of Hank's death certificate. They also sell belt buckles, but someone had obsconded with the last three earlier in the day. I've never purchased a belt buckle before, but now I wanted one in the worst way.

Hank's mother bought him his first guitar for $3.50 when he was 8 years old, and Rufus "Tee-Tot'' Payne, a local street musician, taught him how to play it. A few years later the family moved to Greenville, and then later to Montgomery.

If you ever find yourself going down the Lost Highway it would be worth taking a detour to Hank's old home. A good spirit resides there today.

The night the Shiz hit the fan

PENSACOLA BEACH -- Zach and I were polishing off our second beers and considering our options, which are numerous on Friday nights on the boardwalk at the beach.

We were sitting at the horseshoe bar in Bamboo Willie's, too far from the stage to be paying much attention to the band. Except: The guitar player from a distance bore a queasy resemblance to David Caruso. At least he wasn't wearing sunglasses.

We were ready to leave when Joceyln stepped up to the mic and stopped us in our tracks with a steamy version of "Smooth Operator.'' We ordered another round and found a table close to the stage.

Jocelyn followed with the best -- only? -- female cover I've ever heard of Marvin Gaye's "What's Goin' On'', followed by Edie Brickell's quirky "What I am.'' You need versatile pipes to pull off songs like that, and she has 'em.

And then the Shiz hit the fan. There are cover bands, and there are bands that play covers. The first group, they're a dime a dozen. You can find 'em at any club or lounge on any night of the week. They're a hybird of karaoke and Guitar Hero. There's no harm, really, as long as long as they don't dial up the sound.

The Shiz, we soon discovered, are a band that plays covers. Which is to say, they play 'em like they own 'em. They're so good and tight you don't care if they have original material. We thought Steve Miller was on stage, and then Steely Dan. Who has the nerve to windmill a bass, ala Pete Townshend of the Who? Jonathan Grooms of the Shiz does, while busting up the place with "Baba O'Riley.''

Add the seamless Strat guitar of Jerry Dawson, the apocalyptic drums of Doug Stiers and you have a power rock trio that sounded like they'd been playing together since they were babies.

And be very happy if Joceyln shows up.

He's still got game

How cool is this? You can go to Bruce Springsteen's website and check out the set lists from his current tour -- presumably scrawled by the Boss himself.

This set list is from the Sept. 12 concert at Ford Ampitheatre in Tampa. He opened his 20-song set with "Bandlands'' and closed with "Born to Run'', then returned for a six-song encore, finally ending the sweat-drenched night with "Thunder Road'' -- one more than planned.

I didn't make that concert and probably will miss this tour altogether, with regrets. The ageless rocker -- he turned 60 yesterday -- is currently resting up for five shows at Giants Stadium and four in Philly spaced over three weeks, which might well provide the concert highlights of the year.

I saw my first Springsteen concert at the Lakeland Civic Center in the late Seventies, and most recently caught him at the Times Forum in Tampa. We might have bitten off more than we could chew that Sunday, attending a Packers-Bucs game at Raymond James Stadium and then grabbing a cab downtown to see the Boss.

On paper that may sound like a dream entertainment package. But we questioned the wisdom of doing both after watching the Packers wilt in the fourth quarter under the torrid Florida sun, then showing up shellshocked for our nosebleed seats at the Forum.

There's no such thing as a bad Springsteen concert -- the Boss always delivers. So, upon reflection we can only blame ourselves. And Brett Favre.

There is a brothel in Crescent City...

It's one of those traditional songs that just about everybody has covered. Leadbelly, Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan -- even Nina Simone and Dolly Parton have recorded it. And, thanks to the wonders of YouTube, you can listen to practically every version.

But when you think of "House of the Rising Sun'' you probably think of the Animals. Click here and hear for yourself. This version rocketed to the top of the Billboard chart in September of 1964.

It was the first song by a British Invasion band NOT written by Lennon-McCartney to reach No. 1. The Beatles, truly impressed by a song they must have known but hadn't covered, even sent a telegram of congratulations to Eric Burdon and Company.

The intro guitar hook may be one of the most recognized in rock history. Add Burdon's angry vocals and the distinctive Vox organ work of Alan Price and you have the ingredients for a classic.

Picker alert: If you're just tinkering around with a guitar this is a perfect song to learn. It's a simple chord progression of Am, C, D, F, Am, C, E. Then Am, C, D, F, Am, E, Am, E. To pick it, just pluck the base string of each chord and go up and down the ladder.(For Am and C, it's A-D-G-B-G-D, for D and F it's D-G-B-E-B-G, and for E it's E-A-D-G-D-A). You're sure to impress your friends with this one!!!

The Animals' neat trick was to change the lyrics and make it a song about gambling instead of whoreing, which probably helped them avoid hassles with the FCC. (Kids, I know this is hard to believe, but you just couldn't publish anything you wanted to back in 1964. There were actually censors standing by waiting to flag your naughty messages.)

The song had been on the Animals' touring playlist long before they decided to record it, which may explain how they nailed it in one studio take. It's another splendid example -- and there are many -- of a UK band doing a brilliant yet respectful interpretation of American blues.

Give it up to Dickey Lee

Dickey Lee, my man. You made it to 73!

When you were producing those "death discs'' back in the early Sixties we figured you must have had, well, a death wish.

Two of your biggest hits were "Patches'' and "Laurie (Strange Things Happen).'' Some radio stations even banned them because of their dark messages. "Patches'' was about a poor girl your parents wouldn't let you marry, a sweet girl who tragically drowned, and you ended the song with:

Patches oh what can I do
I swear I'll always love you
It may not be right But I'll join you tonight
Patches I'm coming to you

And "Laurie'', well, that was really spooky. You met her at a dance, kissed her goodnight and gave her your sweater because she was cold. Then you found out from her father that she had been dead for a year!

We loved those tragic songs you wrote and performed. We even liked "I Saw Linda Yesterday'' although that may have had something to do with the girl down the street who made our hearts go "up down like a merry-go-round.''

But we were so enthralled with your tunes of teen angst that we didn't realize you wrote one of greatest country songs of all time. In fact, we can't remember a song that was No. 1 for three different artists.

"She Thinks I Still Care'' is the song, and nobody did it better than George Jones. But Anne Murray made it her first chart-topper (although she changed it to "He''), and Elvis also scored a No. 1 with it, even though it was a flip side to "Moody Blue.''

If you count all three -- and why not? -- you've had eight No. 1 songs. Pretty impressive for a guy who chilled us with:

A strange force drew me to the graveyard
I stood in the cold
I saw the shadows gleam
And then I saw my sweater
Lying there upon her grave

Strange things really do happen in this world.

One that slipped between the cracks

I read somewhere that Jim Carroll was such a good schoolboy basketball player that he could hold his own against the likes of New York City phenom Dean "the Dream'' Meminger. That good?

Maybe I should have watched "The Basketball Diaries.'' My problem is that when the movie came out in 1995 I quickly learned that Leonardo DiCaprio didn't have the game to play the role of Carroll. And there's nothing worse than watching a movie referencing sports that can't provide some semblance of realism on the court or playing field.

The movie, of course, was about more than a young white basketball player with game. It was about the kid's frightening descent into heroin addiction and the ugly, toxic world he finds himself in before finally escaping. In other words, it's the story of Jim Carroll, who beat the long street odds of the big city and became an acclaimed poet and writer, punk rock star and NYC cult figure.

When Carroll died last week of a heart attack at age 60, Patti Smith was among those sharing memories and eulogies of her longtime friend. Which prompted me to track down the movie soundtrack (now how hard is that these days?) There are some excellent cuts, including "Catholic Boy'' and "People Who Died'' by Carroll's band, and "Riders on the Storm'' by the Doors. Still...

Have you seen "The Basketball Diaries''? Reviews generally pan the film while applauding DiCaprio's performance. He was only 20 at the time, and already an Academy Award nominee for his first role in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?'' Given what he's done since, do you think maybe he is our best actor today?

It seems like the perfect time to go back and watch it. Or maybe I'll just close my eyes, turn on the soundtrack and imagine Jim Carroll, the flashy white kid with game, blowing past the great Dean Meminger for an easy basket.