Went wayward and visited one art museum, floating through an exhibit on Tibetan modern art, plus some favorites like Remington's painting "Shotgun Hospitality" — three Indians in blankets, one white settler, all holding rifles. Knowing how to hold rifles.
Bookstore, cafe, walked around. I took photographs.
Got back to Brattleboro before 8 and went to catch Carson in a band opening for a country swing sort of ensemble from North Carolina we were drawn to: Woody Pines.
The lead singer looked and acted quite a bit like Buddy Holly. It wasn't just the glasses, there was a genuine storyteller's demeanor and appeal to all parts of his playing — a cross blend of country-swing, traditional (fine Hank Williams cover) and their own material. Three guys on gorgeous stand-up bass, mandolin, guitars, hearty kazoo, and nicely torqued neck harp playing.
Many young women showed up, slinky and sisterly, dancing with each other on the dance floor. A sure sign things were heating up.
Sweetheart and I watched like two cats curled up, heads swaying. We bought the band's CD because it was the right thing to do. They said thank you, we did too.
Drove home with a moon as big as our house.
Go see Woody Pines if they hit your town. They've got a great story about having their van breakdown 30 miles south of Memphis on Highway 61. Last seen, they were carrying all their instruments with them down the highway.
FUNNY THINGS: while on stage, between songs, the friendly mandolin player for Woody Pines asked down to the dance floor, "Whatever happened to Howard Dean?" Referring to Vermont's former governor who some feel went off the deep-end while running for President. For some reason none of the young people at the concert had any of idea what the musician was asking. He waited and smiled and then asked, "You do know who Howard Dean is. Right?" No reply.
WOODY PINES has a lead singer by the name of "Woody Pines" who looks, somewhat sounds, and has all the get-up-and-go of Buddy Holly. Uncanny. I told him so later. He said, "Oh, yeah, the glasses", touching them for a moment and seeming a little rattled by my observation. I said, "No, not just that; it's your sound." He's young and turned away from me back to the young. Bob Dylan once wrote about seeing Buddy Holly when Dylan was a squirt, unknown, and he stood up front right at the stage edge near his hero's feet. He claims Holly looked straight down at him. It was as if he were bequeathed by the heart of rock 'n' roll. Watching Woody Pines I felt like I was seeing their great grandchild.