The Real Deal


Sal Valentino

If it’s real you can touch it, hear it, see it. If it’s real it’s like a bird in your hand. If it’s real you can find it on a fretboard, maybe. If it’s real it’s a comfort, if it’s real it’s something you can depend on. If it’s real you can bet your bottom dollar, if it’s real you can bet your life on it, if it’s real you can marry the damn girl. If it’s real you can do it again in real time.

If it’s real you can ask your songwriting friends to show up in the mountains of New Mexico. In Texas everything is big, in New Mexico they don’t talk about big, because things are so big you can’t see that far.

If it’s real you trust it like a tuned up guitar. If it’s real you always come back for more. If it’s real you might even applaud so they play another song. If it’s real you might do it all year long, but not much in the summer. If it’s real you might just hang stage curtains and play music for a decade where you park your car.

If it’s real you’ll have to rent the chairs, every time. If it’s real you’ll have to put on your gloves and stack the chairs you put out. If it’s real you’ll have to take them back, every time. If it’s real the writer stays in the guest room. If it’s real they’re playing tomorrow night in Taos, or Albuquerque, or Los Alamos.

If it’s real there is no sound check, if it’s real there are great lights. If it’s real there’s not another seat in the house. If it’s real everybody brings food.

If it’s real all the money goes to the musicians, real money, and you don’t charge for the room. If it’s real it’s worth being the best gig in the state of New Mexico. Somebody’s gotta do it. How come when you say that, it sounds like you’re talking to me?

If it’s real you gotta sell their merch. The real writers, the real authors, the real players, the real people that would appreciate them, sounds like a dream. Good gig is just a good gig. If it’s real you have to make room for all the parked cars, if it’s real it won’t snow the night of your show (The only cancelled show: Peter Case…too much snow).

If it’s real enough people will show up, if it’s real you sweat enough people will show up, every time. If it’s real your act won’t break a string, if it’s real you’ll have to do the first set after putting out the ice, and the chips, and the free beer, if it’s real that won’t matter. If it’s real you’ll probably trade tunes later.

If it’s real that won’t stop you, if it’s real you can do it your own way. If it’s real it might just be gooder’n hell. If it’s real it might just be how it has always been done, simple, ingenious. No smoke, no mirrors. Just the music, and the road. The Real Deal, 2003-2013. Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Don & Victoria Armstrong
The Banded Geckos


Eric Brace & Peter Cooper

Bill Browder
Scott Cadenasso


Dana Cooper

Layton DePenning


Jerry Faires


Steven Fromholz & Tommy Elskes


Butch Hancock

Bill & Bonnie Hearne


Michael Hearne


Sarah Hickman

David Moerbe


Geoff Muldaur & Bob Neuwirth

David Olney


Mark Olson & Ingunn Ringvold


Chuck Pyle


Sam Richardson

Donald Rubenstein


Shake Russell


Keith Sykes

Eric Taylor


Trout Fishing In America


Sal Valentino


Ben Zeller

If it’s real you can also put on a Writers in the Round and read from books, recollections and cowboy poetry, and you can take the Real Deal to Hyde Park Theatre, in Austin, before all was said and done: Geoff Muldaur, Bob Neuwirth, and I got real on stage together, and Austin’s Denim and I did an encore date after that. Oh, yeah. Got real if you want it.

STEP IN TO TOMORROW

“Funny what’ll happen to you
when all you’re trying to do
is sing the right notes
and get the chords right.”

“Phoenix” is my first album. Geoff Muldaur and Steven Bruton play guitars, John Cale plays piano, Bill Rich plays bass, and Victoria Williams and Lyle Lovett sing. Bob Neuwirth is the Producer. It’s a helluva first album for anyone. But I’ve told you that story. We move to the Texas Hill Country, reviews come, gigs appear, and I play my tunes in Europe, the US, and Texas, all over the radio. There’s a border collie named Katy on a long lead in the side yard next to the house. Tennis ball dog.

Business as usual over the next few years, driving miles and miles of dear
old Texas, then on the way to Nashville, Tenn. When we get to that Country & Western town, we pull into the shaded gravel drive of a cabin on the 100 Highway, ten miles outta town. It’s a charmer in a hollow in the deep woods that drape over the little place like a huge green, leafy umbrella. In the summer it’s cool in the shade. Where the sun shines it’s hot and humid. We rent it from a good fellow named Hooter. He says a rental house is a road manager’s retirement fund. He road managed the Everly Brothers for thirty years. Pleasure doing business with him.

The cabin has a window in the bedroom that used to be tricked out like a counter in order to sell beer to the drivers passing by. Rumor has it they were growing a little smoke up in those hills, and might have passed some across that ledge too. We’re there for a couple of years before we change the license plates from Texas to Tennessee. Don’t ask.

I put out two albums and a book while we’re in that cabin. Robin Eaton produces “Texas Plates” for Paladin/Warner Bros. It’s an ingenious CD with a compliment of Nashville’s finest: Al Perkins is on this recording. Maura O’Connell and Kami Lyle do the harmonies this time. Pat Berguson, Pat Buchanan, Chris Carmichael, Dave Jacques, Brad Jones, Ross Rice, Aly Sujo, and Eli Shaw is E-bow and Engineer. Robin Eaton with bass, the percussionist Mickey Grimm, and I take that show to SXSW…Mickey brings the plastic trash can from the hotel on stage: he likes the sound.

The book is the first edition of “One Man’s Music,” self-published, and funded by Wayne and Lisa Lawrence. The story of my accident and recovery, I begin it in Berkeley, write 30 pages, and say I’m done. It grows in Texas, and I write 212 pages in 180 days: the goal is a page a day. Sometimes I get six pages, sometimes I get none.

One day the phone rings and Vince Pawless, whom I’ve not met in person yet, says “Let’s make a guitar.” We do, but that’s another story. The day the V2 is finished, I pick it up in Texas, walk it across the street, and sit down and play a house concert: the recording, done famously by David Byboth, is “Live in Texas.”

That cowboy town soon fills the rear view mirror and we take the border collie, a little button-eyed dog, and three cats to Santa Fe, NM. That’s a lotta animals on a motel bed. We drive back out of the forest in the hollow and into the mountains of the West where you can see for days. In good time I record an album, “Recado,” with Cam King as Producer and guitar player, in my garage. He brings the board, mics, the whole kit and kerfluffle in the backseat of his car. Cam is brilliant, and better off the cuff than most with fair warning and a rehearsal. He can also build a pyramid with a yardstick.

Cam ingeniously hangs bedding sheets around the three car space to create sound barriers in the now tent-like setting, and we record the album like we are in complete silence on top of a mountain…in a large residential area. There’s a basketball court in the driveway next-door . He takes the tapes back to Texas and adds Bill Browder, Freddie Krc, Tammy Rogers, and Michael Woody. The cover for “Recado” is a Peter Hurd watercolor, painted and handed to my father-in-law in 1945.

Then my pal, publicist, and literary agent, Kevin Avery gets my now two books published by University Of North Texas Press. Karen DeVinney and the University’s President suggest “One Man’s Music” and “SixtyEight TwentyEight,” be edited together into one book. (“SixtyEight TwentyEight” is a series of essays/blogs I’ve been running on my website, “Out Here on the Edge of the Desert,” along with a podcast, a decade before there were podcasts: LiveMusic’sCool/InLiveMusicSchool, with friend Jim Alderman on toy piano and plastic swimming pool: there’s something about those percussionists…nobody more free than the drummer). The two books together make the definitive volume of “One Man’s Music.” and I record CD of the same name, of the songs mentioned in the book, with Ned Albright as Producer and piano player. Gardner Knight is our Engineer. I turn the book into a one-man play — you guessed it, with the same name. Ghost Ranch Films makes a DVD of a live show, recording songs that had gotten lost between my accident and Phoenix: “New Lamps for Old.”

After a trip to New York, I write a longish collection of prose poems called “Empire Of Storms,” and a song called “Ojo.” Bob Neuwirth, Dave Soldier, and Patrick Derivaz record me in an abandoned bank on Wall Street for three…but that’s the story that’s in the telling these days.

From Phoenix to Ojo.

“Funny what’ll happen to you
when all you’re trying to do
is sing the right notes
and get the chords right.”

[I’ll be in deep voodoo with management if I don’t at least mention that these are all for sale at the vincebell.com store]

GET MY DRIFT

The words in this Improv series are like the notes musicians play in musical improv. They are not about my summer vacation, they are not organized, necessarily. They are not in a straight line, they are not apologetic, they are not literary, neccessarily. They are not for the wealthy, or political, though they might be one and the same. They are not for the supposed righteous, they are not for those that think they are righteous. They are not the only way to say anything, they are not, neccessarily.

And you best believe the good fellow that wrote these words probably has a story to tell. Still, the words don’t have to say what you want to hear, they just are what they are. They are welcome to be what they will be. I’ve been writing them for years, but it seems like I could have a good time just putting the pieces together. These pieces move fast, they don’t suffer a lot of pause. They talk about everything at once. They are not terribly thematic individually, but varied in topic, and subject. What subject? You’ll figure it out.

You’ll understand as much, or little as you will. You’ll tell your friend, “Can you believe he said that?” But so much for the negative. Sometimes the words fall on you like rain, or blow around like leaves in the street, or gather like clouds in the sky, or move like a line of ants on the ground, or simmer in a pot like beans in a restaurant, or huddle like the ladies on a team, or assemble like children on a playground, or cluster like a bunch of flowers, or group like a crowd of well wishers, or hang out like a hoard of hippies burning it down, or round up like a herd of cattle, or swarm like a hive of bees, or grate like the sands between your toes, or ascend like balloons at a festival, or not.

They don’t have to make sense in a literal way like the manual for your cellphone, or the pamphlet on venereal disease. They are not required to be readable. They are not necessary to understand the story line. They just are using the tools and techniques I have taught myself to inflict maximum interest on an audience of my choosing. Sounds preconceived. That may be actionable, and certainly entertaining. Good.

They are suggestive, they are emotive, they don’t have to have a thing to do with what the front row is talking about over what you say. They are free to be whatever they want, whatever you want. The audience is a very big part of Improv, so I guess their conversation is part of the show.

New perspectives, a new pair of shoes, a novel idea whose time has come. Sometimes the words come in backwards, or upside down, like gibberish, like garbage. Like something not together, like something confused. But read between the lines. But hear them for what they say. The hints are everywhere, the hints are off the cuff, the hints are on the back of a box of cereal, the hints are hints because they have something to hide, maybe a surprise in every box.

But you’ll figure it out, sooner, or later. Sometimes they come in on top of one another, sometimes they don’t come in at all. Like water that won’t be constrained, or constricted, the words can’t be held for long before the embankment that pretends to hold them springs a leak. Rest assured, when the dam is long forgotten the words, like the water, will still be there. But you get my drift.

Pardon, but do you have…

Photo Credit: Jay Hamburger

Pardon, but do you have……the time?

Do you, really, know what time it is? Do you wear a watch to tell the time? Or do you tell time with your cellphone? Or do you mark the time on the sundial in the square, or is it the changing of the season?

It’s time to leave. It’s time to go home. It’s party time. It’s time to get some work done. It’s time to quit complaining. It’s time to get moving. It’s time to rest. It’s time to relax. It’s time to go away. Vacation time. Work time. Down time. Slow time. Go time. Half time. Full time. Four-four time. Three-four time. Cut time. No time. Summertime. Timeless. Some other time. Split time. Good time. On time. No time for you. No time for this shit. No time. Spend time. Some time. Borrow time, but pay it back. My time. Your time. Our time together. It’ll take more time, what’s a few more minutes? It’ll happen in it’s own good time. Dream time. Big time. Short time. Stop time. Mountain time zone. Central time zone. Pacific time zone. Eastern time zone. Any place, anywhere, anytime. Once upon a time. Give me some time. Did you think it wouldn’t take some time? Not enough time. It’s time to go. The time on the wall clock. It’s time for dinner. It’s time to play some tunes. It’s time to feed the parakeet. It’s time to go see who is stealing the newspaper from the doormat. It’s time to give that so&so a piece of your mind. Being with you is timeless. Diamonds are timeless.

Timelessness. The time with you has seemed like a breath of air, time was we had more piece of mind before theses lines were drawn that have become our face, time went slower when I was shorter, time goes ticking by, but who has the time to notice, how much time has passed, how much time is left, every time I look at my watch I smile, every time I look at you I smile, time is an ally, time is short, time is long, who knows where the time goes? is it time? time flys, time drags on and on, what time is this flight? If I just had more time, one more time, in time, out of time, golden time, dark times, time is like a fruit fly, as time goes by, it goes too slow till it goes too fast. every time, most time, less time, good time, only time, out of time, stop time, rig time, less time, any time, stand time, face time, one time, just give me a little time, time goes by, the world goes as the time goes, one time, a little time, time for you, time for me, time for the tiller man, time for you, time for me, time for someone else, the time before you go, the time before you arrive, the time before the guests arrive, don’t mess with time, don’t waste time, lose time, buy time, rent time, sometimes, next time, only time, one time, spent time, arrive on time, no time, all the time, worth your time, not worth your time, done time, save time, time at the center of the planet, over time, quitting time, work time, break time, old time, same time, under time, time is just a way to keep everything from happening at the same time, time on earth, time on Mars, time on the water, time on land, time in the air, time before Trump, time after Trump, time after time, time and again, time doesn’t matter, time won’t make a difference, time won’t help, time you won’t notice, time you won’t care about, time on the court, time in the pool, time on the baseball field, time on the links, time on the field, time behind the plate, time in the joint, time behind bars, time in jail, time in solitary confinement, time in a plane, time in a car, time on a bicycle, time on skates, time on the slopes, time on a stage, time in a dressing room, time in the dentist chair, time in a doctor’s office, time in a department store, time will heal you, time to forget, time until tomorrow, time until it’s over, time doesn’t matter, time is irreversible, time bomb, timed out, time zone, time is a fluid, time is an ether, time on the highway, time on the backstreets, time goes by when you’re not paying attention, time warp, time dilution, the time stops here, time machine, time is inconvenient, the time is correct, time never stops, time never waits, time goes by, all the time, in the time it takes to blink an eye, in the time it takes to tie your shoe, in the time it takes to sail across the ocean, in the time it takes to fly a plane to Europe, in the time, with the time, stopping time, any time.

Give me time, a moment of your time please, no more time, only time will heal the wound, only time will bring you ’round, time is the magic, time is the grease, time is the lubricant, time heals all, time will make it right, time on a train, time on a bus, time in a cab, the time stops here, you don’t have the time, it won’t take any time, it doesn’t take much time, everything is twenty minutes away, only time will tell, time and again, I’ll fix it when I have the time, make time, give your time away, charge for your time, do you give change? only time, one time offer, time in the loony bin, time on the lam, time in a truck, time in an automobile, time on the force, time in the band, time goes fast, time goes slow, time goes in circles, time goes straight as an arrow, timeline, march of time, sprint of time, gait of time, well of time, want of time, stopping time right where you want it…

…we’ll make time.