Wifey and I attended the Jamey Johnson concert last night at the Deadwood Mountain Grand. We both loved it.
I'm not very good at writing reviews but do it anyway.
Johnson didn't talk much, just played music nonstop for almost two hours, and there's nothing wrong with that. Preferable in most cases.
A couple songs in, after "High Cost of Living," he said: "First time in Deadwood. Didn't know there'd be so many of ya." Long pause, then: "What if we suck?"
He has such a deep, rich voice, it's incredible. The sound mix was perfect, as we were able to hear all his words over a large band. Between back-up vocalists, the guitars, two drummers and a trio of instrumentalists, there must've been a dozen of them.
He tossed in a tribute medley to George Jones and two songs and a shout-out to Tom Petty. He also brought his dad on stage for a song (bottom photo).
You can usually tell when a band is having fun and feeding off the crowd (they were) and at one point while the crowd was singing along to "In Color" the lights were turned on so Johnson could see how large the crowd was. It was packed. He smiled and turned to his guitar player with a grin. They dimmed the lights and cranked it up again.
My 20-year-old texted to ask how the concert was. I told him and added: "He speaks to me." The kid "lol"d to that, but Johnson does and the concert turned this fan into an even bigger fan.
Best 25 bucks I ever spent.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
I got out of order on John Sandford’s “Prey” novels, but as the great Willie Nelson sings: “There’s nothing I can do about it now.” Except to read the books.
I've survived every situation“Field of Prey” is #24 in the series and I really enjoyed it. One of the things that draws me to the novels is the setting. Most are set in southern Minnesota, which I know pretty well. So it’s fun when Lucas Davenport ventures into Owatonna or Mankato, with several mentions of South Dakota. This one takes place in the Red Wing area on the Wisconsin border.
Knowing when to freeze and when to run
And regret is just a memory written on my brow
And there's nothing I can do about it now.
On the night of the fifth of July, in Red Wing, Minnesota, a boy smelled death in a cornfield off an abandoned farm. When the county deputy took a look, he found a body stuffed in a cistern. Then another. And another. By the time Lucas Davenport was called in, it was fifteen and counting, the victims killed over just as many summers, regular as clockwork. How could this happen in a town so small without anyone noticing? And with the latest victim only two weeks dead, Davenport knows the killer is still at work, still close by. Most likely someone the folks of Red Wing see every day. Won t they be surprised.Amazonians like it, giving a 4.6 of 5. Goodreaders at 4.2. I need to loosen up my system because all I seem to do is hand out 6 and 7s lately on my 10-point system. But I won’t start today: 7+.