Knocking on our back door

If anybody could write a song about New York City it was Harry Nilsson. He was born right there in Brooklyn in 1941. Frank Sinatra, he could SING about it, but he was born across the river in Hoboken. A Jersey boy.

Nilsson's song, which had to be written by someone who lived and breathed the air of NYC, is one that can really get stuck in your head if you spend any time walking these streets.

I guess the Lord must be in New York City...

Walking along West 72nd Street past the Dakota, where Nilsson's good friend John Lennon was shot to death. Crossing the street into Central Park, where memories and reminders of Lennon are everywhere: the Imagine tiles, and Strawberry Fields -- where the sanctity is so well preserved you can't bring a guitar here to strum it. Some people surely would. Following the path that leads to Tavern on the Green, only to remember that, sadly, it is now shuttered. Walking the streets of New York City, thirsty and thinking...

Because Nilsson wasn't into commercialism -- and certainly because his early commercial success allowed him to choose his musical path -- he veered off into directions that weren't easy to follow. Which is why he is probably remembered more for his early success than anything he did later. He did become a big anti-gun activist after Lennon's death, but how many people remember that?

No, it was this song rolling around in my head and a couple of others like "Everybody's Talkin'" and "Without You" that define Nilsson the artist, who died way too young in 1994 at age 52. He could've been a contender, and I guess maybe he was...

I say goodbye to all my sorrows
And by tomorrow I'll be on my way
I guess the lord must be in New York City

I'm so tired of getting nowhere
Seein' my prayers going unanswered
I guess the lord must be in New York City

Well here I am Lord
Knocking on your back door
Ain't it wonderful to be
Where I've always wanted to be
For the first time I'll be free
In New York City

The words of a Prophet

How many defining events do we miss because we refuse to get our tired old asses out the door?

Answer: too many!

You can excuse a lot of that delinquency, but there is no excuse -- outside of no tickets available -- for missing a music show. If you're thinking about going, just go. Don't worry about the traffic, the parking, the money or your fragile state of mind. Live music can save you, especially the music you know you need to hear live. But only if you show up.

Here's how easy it was for a country boy visiting NYC to get to a club Friday night in Brooklyn to see a fabulous band: Take the 1 Train downtown to 72nd Street, transfer to the A train (or was it the B?) and enjoy the 30-minute subway ride to Bergen Street. Get off there, walk a block down Bergen, hang a left on Fifth Avenue and walk five more blocks through a funky Brooklyn retail district. And there, on your left, is the Southpaw, one of the city's premiere rock music venues.

If a country boy can pull this off, you can do it anywhere. Now here's your opportunity to test the theory: Chuck Prophet is on tour in support of his fabulous new CD "Let Freedom Ring." Go see the band, even if you have to change trains. The clip above is the opener from a Manchester Academy show last fall and is a pretty good taste of what you'll enjoy. He opened with "Sonny Liston's Blues" again last night at the Southpaw and proceeded to put the pedal to the metal.

Here are the remaining dates on Prophet's American tour (after which he's off to Norway, Spain, Germany, the UK and other worldly venues):

March 6, Iota Club & Cafe, Arlington, VA
March 7, Sellersville Theatre, Sellersville, PA
March 9, Grey Eagle, Ashville, NC
March 10, The Handlebar, Greenville, SC
March 11, The Star Bar, Atlanta, GA
March 12, Will's Pub, Orlando, FL
March 13, Skipper's Smokehouse, Tampa, FL
March 14, Jack Rabbits, Jacksonville, FL
March 16, Magnolia Cafe, St. Francisville, LA
March 17, Under the Volcano, Houston, TX
March 19, Momo's, Austin, TX
March 20, Jovita's, Austin, TX
March 20, Yard Dog Gallery, Austin, TX
April 2, Soiled Dove, Denver, CO
April 3, Main Street Station, Breckenridge, CO

There. We've done everything outside of purchasing your tickets for you. Go see a show.

It was too late for the theatre

So this guy walks into a bar in New York City.

He's wearing a Packers jacket, so the bartender asks: "Are you from Wisconsin?"

The guy nods. "You?"

"My girlfriend is from Little Chute."

That's not a joke. That's a small world. Even here on the Upper West Side, where you can see the Hudson River from your 11th floor hotel window and get the best Buffalo wings in the city just across the street at Blondie's. Or so claims the bartender.

(Question: Can you believe a guy who says his girlfriend is from Little Chute? Answer: Only if it sounds like he's bragging.)

One thing the bartender doesn't need to brag about is the sound system at Blondie's. The town that never sleeps doesn't get that reputation turning down the sound in the wee hours. No sir...

I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel
There's a voice in my head that drives my heel
It's my baby callin', says I need you here
And it's half past four and I'm shifting gear

"Radar Love" was ahead of its time. Or maybe it just set hard rock's wheels into overdrive. The other day we mentioned Van Halen's metal classic "Jump," which came out in 1984. This one was pulsing over the FM airwaves 11 years earlier, compliments of Golden Earring. Who ever thought the Dutch could rock like this?

It blew through Blondie's last night like a red-lining Chevelle Super Sport on jet fuel. For the safety of patrons they should install seat belts on the bar stools here.

NYC rocks. Wait'll we get to the live stuff...

A little more bass, please

Here are rock's best bass players, snipped from the list of the Top 100 at http://digitaldreamdoor.nutsie.com

1. James Jamerson, Funk Brothers, session player
2. John Entwistle, The Who
3. Larry Graham, Sly & The Family Stone
4. Chris Squire, Yes
5. Jack Bruce, Cream
6. Tony Levin, King Crimson, session player
7. Geddy Lee, Rush
8. Paul McCartney, The Beatles
9. Louis Johnson, Brothers Johnson, session man
10. Anthony Jackson, session man

Observations: We think it's wonderful that somebody actually knows the names of 100 rock bass players. They don't get nearly the attention and respect they deserve. We certainly hope no fights broke out over these rankings.

Growing up in my small hometown there was a pretty decent local band, The Loney Ones, that was trying to get gigs at bars and venues in surrounding cities. They were in La Crosse, I believe, for an audition and their bass player couldn't make it. (He might have been working on the farm.) So they asked a younger kid from town to stand in. Now this kid didn't know a bass guitar from a broomstick. They said don't worry, we'll have the amp on zero. Just get up there and fake it. And he faked it pretty good, because they got the gig.

Moral of the story? You, too, can be a rock 'n' roll bass player. Just make sure the sound is turned down.

Oh, and happy birthday to Chris Squire, who turns 62 today. We went through our Yes phase, a blissful period during which every other band's output sounded inferior by comparision. So we're certain we appreciated his contributions at much higher decibel levels; unfortunately we can't remember any details.

Bass players, they get little respect.

The day I fell for Van Halen

There used to be a bar called Ole's in Maiden Rock, near Lake Pepin. I'm not sure it's still there. Probably is, and I'll find out one day soon. They had the best -- the only -- buffalo burgers at the time. And the juke box was always hopping. It was one of those places you just couldn't drive past. Had to stop.

And so there I was one summer afternoon, striking up a conversation over a beer with Pam the bartender. We got to talking and the conversation turned to Maiden Rock and how it got its name. It was a story Pam had obviously told before.

"There was this Indian maiden, and she was up on that cliff over there," Pam said, nodding toward the bluffs of the Mississippi River. "And there was a young buck with her, and he was wanting to have his way with her, if you know I mean."

I nodded affirmatively. This was easy so far.

"Well, being a young maiden and all -- she was very young, not even 16 at the time -- she wasn't going to have any of that," Pam continued. "Listen, there is honor among maidens. I know, I used to be one, but I didn't last as long as her!" Pam let out a big laugh.

"So anyway, she kept backing away from him, and as she kept walking back she got closer and closer to the edge of the cliff."

I remember taking a gulp of my tap beer at that very moment.

"There she was, right on the precipice, you know? It was either gonna be his way or the highway."

Pam paused and took a hit from her cigarette.

"Well, they didn't name the highway after her," I said. "So they did it right there on the rock?"

"No!" exclaimed Pam. "She was a maiden -- pure as the driven snow. Maidens didn't do that shit!"

"So it was the highway?" I asked.

"Right in front there, right where you parked," Pam said, pointing through the picture window at my truck. "Of course there wasn't a highway coming through here at the time. She had been up there on that rock for quite awhile, looking at that hungry buck, then looking over the edge of the cliff, trying to decide. That girl was in deep shit! And finally the buck, who was clearly frustrated that he wasn't having his way, finally he said: 'Go ahead and jump you dumb bitch!' And she did! That poor maiden girl jumped!"

And I swear to you this happened next. The juke box, which had been silent while Pam was telling her story, suddenly came to life. At first I didn't even notice the rolling synthesizer sound blaring through the speakers. I began to listen about the time a voice -- a scream, really -- yelled a familiar phrase.

"Go ahead and jump!"

It was David Lee Roth. Van Halen. "Jump."

I looked over at Pam, who was smiling back at me.

POSTSCRIPT: Even if you have no time for heavy metal acts like Van Halen you have to concede that "Jump" was a monster hit, one of those songs capable of defining a musical era. It turned out to be the group's only No. 1 single, and it was parked there on this day in the Orwellian year of 1984.

(Almost) saved by a twangy guitar

At least the music rocked.

Did you watch the New Old Jay Leno last night? I was watching, curious as the rest of you who tuned in. (It doesn't take nearly the commitment or staying power living on Central Time.) And it provided the best evidence yet to support the Sanctuary's belief that the music -- at least if it's good -- needs to come out sooner. Last night it could've saved the show. Well, maybe not save it ...

Jay needs to learn how to shred a script the way Brad Paisley shreds a guitar. He had two weeks to write his own jokes and skits, or at least decide which ones are funny and stick with those. And maybe they should start stocking some booze and mixers in the NBC Commissary. Not even Jamie Foxx could get that limp crowd going.

It took Paisley's final flourish on "American Saturday Night" to really get the audience going, and by then the show was over. Man that guy can play. I'm pretty sure he broke at least one string during his sizzling finale.

What do you think? Give Paisley the monologue and let his Telecaster do the talking? I'd watch that every night.

Never met a ballad he couldn't nail

We're stuck in a warm country current and it's taking us away...

I miss Don Williams. What made me think of him was reading that his song "Lord I Hope This Day is Good" (later covered by Lee Ann Womack) was roosting pretty on this date back in 1981.

Mentioning him today won't hardly cause a ripple, even though he is a new member of the Country Music Hall of Fame. The truth is, Williams was such a low-key performer that lots of folks never noticed him when he was turning out hits without the hell-raising bluster of Waylon Jennings or Merle Haggard. And he did a pretty good job of that, scoring an impressive 17 No. 1s during his career. All but four of his 46 charted songs made the top 10.

Two years before Eric Clapton recorded "Tulsa Time" Williams had a No. 1 tune with the song, which was written by his guitarist Danny Flowers. The others you'd have a chance of remembering even if you didn't hop that country train are "If I Needed You," a sweet duet with Emmylou Harris, "I Believe in You" and "Good Ole Boys Like Me." That last one, written by tunesmith Bob McDill, is one of our favorites at the Sanctuary.

Williams, who was known as the Gentle Giant, essentially retired in 2006. You can still buy CDs, DVDS, coffee mugs and fridge magnets at his website, and for nothing you can read our thought of the day:

Lord I hope this day is good
I'm feelin' empty and misunderstood
I should be thankful Lord, I know I should
But Lord I hope this day is good