Three Bands. Two Stick. One Night.
Saturday, May 19. Be There.
Tiger High:
Tiger High is a tight-knit group of musicians all born and raised in the music mecca of Memphis, Tenn. The group is composed of songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Jake Vest (Jack Oblivian, The Trashed Romeos), drummer Greg Roberson (Reigning Sound, Arthur Lee’s Love, The Trashed Romeos, Jack Oblivian, Compulsive Gamblers) and two of Vest’s longtime musical partners, brother Toby Vest and Greg Faison. The band co-writes and records their material at High/Low Recording, a studio owned and operated by band member Toby Vest. The studio serves as the band’s home base of operation as well as the home of their wrecking crew style production team.
The band is led by drummer Roberson. Roberson who has acquired an impressive resume as the original drummer for Reigning Sound, featured on their LPs Break Up Break Down, Time Bomb High School, Too Much Guitar, and Home For Orphans. In 2005 Roberson joined Rich Retard (The Retards & Lost Sounds) and Jack Oblivian (Compulsive Gamblers) in the Knaughty Knights to release one EP on Jay Retard’s Shattered Records label. In late 2005, Roberson was approached by sixties psychedelic icon Arthur Lee to put together a new version of LOVE based out of Roberson and Lee’s hometown of Memphis. Roberson worked with Lee & Love until Lee’s untimely death in late 2006. Roberson also logged time as a member of Jack & Greg Oblivian’s Compulsive Gamblers and with Jack Oblivian’s Tennessee Tearjerkers.
Booyah! Dad:
Bo
oyah! Dad was born in the back of a duplex in Little Rock, Ark. They came out as two large fellas and a regular-sized one who were ready to make the world shake it. One could describe Booyah! Dad as a musical cross breed. Imagine if Z.Z. Top and the Talking Heads combined forces, or in the words of Rick Barton (Formerly of Dropkick Murphys), “You guys are like a psychedelic B.T.O.” gracing the stage, and exhorting all to “Party.” That is what will make you say, BOOYAH! DAD.
Foul Play Cabaret (Burlesque):
Birthed from magic and imagination, Foul Play Cabaret has been capturing the hearts of many with their diverse and sultry shows, proving that the only thing hotter than the water in Hot Springs, Arkansas is the women. Ruby Lead, the head mistress, is living proof that big things come in small packages. Her petite frame specializes in bumps and grinds that are guaranteed to wow your mind and send chills down your spine.
Doris Night, Queen Of the Peepshow, has a vast array of ostrich feather fans that twirl faster than her pasties. The trance she induces with her elegant arsenal can only be broken with body she is hiding behind them.
Violet D’Vine, a vivacious vixen, is the embodiment of sexuality. Her well-oiled hips pump out high-volume screams and her wine-colored lips blow kisses that are sensual enough to bring a Viking to his knees.
Ms. Julia James, belly dancer extraordinaire, has isolated body shakes and rolls that humble the oceans. As waves crash against the shore unapologetically, she will crash into your heart leaving you drenched and gasping for air.
Fannie Flamingo, long-legged and foul-mouthed, you never know what’s going to happen when she is on stage. She combines humor, heart, and harlot with a little dash of surprise that keeps you entertained in more ways than one.
Mickey O’Nail, a man of few words, can silence a room at the drop of a nail. What this man does to his body is only comparable to the vaudevillian days of old; if you have a weak stomach I suggest you get front row seats to watch this one! Vincent Vagabond, the silver tongued master of ceremonies is a quick-witted riot. His charm on stage between acts is so effortless and endearing you might want to remove all of your own clothing, but please, leave this to the professionals of The Foul Play Cabaret.
Walking to work, I’ve often diverted my route to veer through the 
The list of food items vendors are allowed to sell is extensive: produce, plants, meat, milk, eggs, honey, cheese, shelled peas and beans, nuts, condiments, preserves, jellies, jams, baked items, cut firewood, and more. (But there is a “no crafts” stipulation.) Don’t worry: Mississippi and MTFM regulations make sure consumers are safe – foodstuffs must be processed in approved facilities, and MTFM representatives visit vendors’ farms before they’re allowed to sell.
I am a lucky lady.
I remember realizing in high school that I was lucky to be a member of a (fairly) functional and harmonious family, with an older (only slightly bullying) sister, and a mother and father who were not only still married, but still in love and happy.
There’s a deleted scene in Pulp Fiction when Mia Wallace, interviewing Vincent Vega with a Hi-8 camera, says “There are two kinds of people in the world: Beatles people, and Elvis people.”
Until the last few years, I’d have chosen the Fab Four every time. I’ve since decided it’s un-American, and worse, un-Mississippian, to not appreciate Elvis Presley’s impact on popular music as we know it. The man is a legend. His tunes and his memory must live on, lest we forget what rock n’ roll is all about and from whence it came.
(Will read some of my notes ahead of time, and he started the interview off with…)
Big E: “I call Frank the hardest-working drummer in the music business. But you know he is…he’s a trip, too.”
Big E: “I most liked Elvis probably in the 70s. His voice recorded better, and he was a better singer than in the 50s. In the 50s he had the excitement and the energy. And then in the 70s he mellowed down and got more vocally inclined.”
Big E: “Tyler’s probably been with us about two years now.”
Big E: “No, never have.”
RL: “And finally, have any of you ever eaten a peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich?” (reportedly Elvis’ favorite)
“Paul is dead.”
The following week Nature Humphries, Stacey Pillault, and I decided to take a trip of our own to Holly Springs. Nature had never been, and Stacey was tired of watching the sides collapse on her baby pool and decided to ride with us instead of refilling it once again. We hit Betty Davis BBQ on the way, because I firmly believe Graceland Too is best experienced in a somewhat altered state.
Paul McLeod and his hot, dusty, electric blue tribute to Elvis feel like they came straight out of the Southern Gothic school of writing. When he opened the door to greet us his steel gray hair was slicked back and he was wearing wrinkled slacks, black Velcro orthopedic shoes, and a short-sleeved button-up shirt that was unbuttoned almost to his belly button. He speaks quickly and with a nasally drawl that makes it almost impossible to understand much of what he says, and then there are the times when you understand him and wish you hadn’t. I asked him right before the tour began who started the rumor that he’d died. He said, “I don’t know, but it’s the third time it’s happened. Last time I didn’t get to the front door fast enough and the police cut it down with a chainsaw.”
Every room in the 159-year-old house is stacked to the ceiling with Elvis-related memorabilia and other collections Paul has amassed over the years, including several thousand issues of TV Guide. A broken bust of Elvis with one eye missing peers out from behind a stack of artificial Christmas trees on a stairwell so packed with things it can no longer be used.
He has pictures hanging everywhere of his son, whom he named Elvis Aron Presley McLeod, dressed and posing like Elvis. He was especially proud of a large poster board covered with pictures of himself dressed as David Carradine, Rocky Balboa, James Dean, and Fidel Castro, among others. At one point he screamed “YO!!” at me and snapped his fingers in my face to direct my attention to a picture of himself when he was in his twenties.
“I was hung like a racehorse!” he yelled and then giggled a high pitched giggle for several seconds before moving onto to something else. McLeod is rather Forest Gumpian, claiming to have been present for a wide range of famous historical events, including the assassinations of both Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. He also takes credit for a range of less widely publicized deaths, including “cutting Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer up with an axe” and “killing Smokey and the Bandit with a hammer.”
He also throws out a variety of numbers, some downright unbelievable, most conflicting with a number previously mentioned. At one point he said his biggest tour group was 235 people, and a few minutes later said a group of “230,000 Chinese tourists” had descended on Holly Springs to see Graceland Too a few years ago. Trunks that line one wall hold “31,000 VHS tapes” cataloguing Elvis appearances on television, and even include moments when the host of a show was just wearing an Elvis t-shirt. Right before we left he told us his stereo system was comprised of “20,000 speakers” (but really appeared to be a boom box hooked up to a few old wall speakers) before turning “Jailhouse Rock” on at full blast. He hollered “Stand back! I don’t want to get you pregnant!” and then stuck one leg out and did his best Elvis hip shaking dance moves.
