Terri Hendrix

Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art (Companion book to CD) 2nd Edition Now Available

2011-09-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Cry Till You Laugh — The Part That Ain’t Art

The 2nd Edition Released October 11th, 2011

208 Pages Paperback Book

Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain’t Art - Book

About:

As a trailblazing independent artist who lives by the motto “Own Your Own Universe,” Terri Hendrix has spent two decades juggling both her art (making music out of life) and everything that goes into maintaining a “DIY” music career (what she calls “The Part That Ain’t Art.”) So it’s only fitting that the award-winning singer-songwriter’s first book is two books in one: part companion piece to her latest album, Cry Till You Laugh, with lyrics, photos and essays linked to the songs on the record, and part how-to guide for going-your-own way in the music business. The essays dance from “cry” to “laugh” and back again, touching candidly on everything from hilarious road stories and stage-fright jitters to poignant matters of the heart and her life-long battle with epilepsy. It may sound like a crazy mix, but as any fan of Terri Hendrix’s music can attest to, that’s Terri … to a “T.”

The book has been warmly received by both fans and critics alike, with Michael Corcoran of the Austin American Statesman calling it "equal parts spiritual and practical, honest, funny, useful, revelatory and moving." Once she sold out of the first-edition run of 1,000 copies (within a mere six months after the book's release), Hendrix dove back into the original manuscript, revising and updating much of the "Part That Ain't Art" section (gleaned from her two decades of firsthand experience running her own label, plus years of leading music and songwriting workshops around the country) and also adding a handful of brand new essays. She plans to release the expanded and refined second edition just in time for her participation in the Texas Author Day festivities.

Here is a taste of what's in the book ...

Excerpt from "Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art"

2011-04-21T22:05:00.000-07:00

Take me places.

We were touring through the Midwest. One of the perks with our gig that night was that it came with free lodging. Normally, we won’t stay anywhere but a hotel. When you’re on the road, you need your own place to stretch out and hole up in privacy without worrying about being in the company of strangers. But this “lodging” was a free stay at a hoity-toity bed and breakfast in town. From the moment we pulled up into the driveway and I saw the multi-level, lavishly landscaped Victorian home, though, I regretted my decision to stay there. Something about the place just didn’t seem right. Little did I know just how dead-on my gut feeling was.

Having seen our rent car pull up in her drive, the proprietor — who looked like she’d just stepped out of a Vogue magazine — met us at the curb, waved her arms frantically and squawked, “Park DOWN the hill! Park DOWN the hill! This space is for paying guests!” I looked at Lloyd, shaking my head in disbelief. We had tons of gear in our car! Could we not simply load out, and then park the car down the hill? But Lloyd, being a gentleman, backed out with a wave of compliance and did as told. Thirty minutes later, after we hauled our gear from the car back up the hill and to the porch of the B&B, we both heaved sighs of relief. We were finally going to be able to shower and get ready for that night’s show. Lloyd was just about ready to ring the doorbell when the door flew open. It was the proprietor again, standing at the entryway and pointing at our feet. “TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF!”

Okay, now this was going to far. I don’t often let “my girls” out in public, and I’d be damned if I was gonna let this perfectly coifed middle-aged prom queen see my gnarly size 10’s, which were in need of both a pedicure and some Athlete’s Foot powder. But before I could protest, Lloyd was slipping off his boots with a “Will do,” and a “Beautiful place you have here.” I took my shoes off, winced when our hostess raised a plucked eyebrow at my bare flippers (I’d forgotten socks), and waited patiently as she then spread out a sheet on the floor of the lobby — to set our gear on! “We JUST had this WHITE carpeting installed,” she explained. “It’s a DREAM come TRUE. Doesn’t it just make the wallpaper POP?” She looked at me, as if waiting for me to agree with her. She’d have blown a bobby-pin had she known that not but a few weeks prior I’d ripped the wallpaper off the walls and the white carpeting off the floor in my living room, choosing to just deal with bare walls and bald concrete until I could afford to redo the room. The wallpaper was hideous and the white carpet the previous owners had installed didn’t fit my lifestyle or my mutts. Talk about impractical!

“Nice,” I lied, shaking my head in approval. Nice.

Paying guests stayed on the lower levels. Complimentary guests, or “freebies,” as we were called, stayed seven flights up, in the loft. We complimented her on the newly refurbished living room, and shoeless, padded our way up the stairs. I looked back, and over the oiled wooden banister saw that her husband had joined her. He was as put together as his wife, and looked as if he’d coordinated his outfit to match hers. He felt me looking at him, met my gaze, scowled, and continued talking with his wife while pointing at the white carpet and the sheet with our instruments on it.

That night at the gig, the couple from the B&B showed up. Within a few minutes, I realized they weren’t there to support us, but to tout the fact that they were one of the sponsors for the concert series because they provided free rooms for the musicians. Taking note, at the start of the show, I sincerely thanked them for letting us stay at their lovely home. I was about half way through my first set when the two “freebies” (they were on the guest list), sitting front-row and center, both held up slips of papers with the name of their B&B on it. They wanted me to acknowledge them again, before we took a break for intermission. Nice.

I chatted amicably with them during intermission, but was more than a little relieved when I saw them scoot out the door before we began our second set. After the show, Lloyd and I were flat worn out from the events of the day. We’d shuttled our gear up and down that hill so many times that we were beyond exhausted. Once we dutifully removed our shoes and placed our instruments carefully back on the sheet, we decided to relax our aching muscles by taking the proprietor up on the wine she had left on the wooden bar in the living room. I suppose it was her effort to be hospitable — even to the “freebies.” Not wanting to disturb them, as they were both engrossed in a TV show, we didn’t greet them. They were sprawled out on their white sofa with their backs to us, and hadn’t heard us come in. It was the perfect opportunity for me to sneak a couple of glasses of wine. Sure, she had said we could have some! But I still felt uncomfortable — like she’d bite my hand if she had an excuse and I just wanted to stay out of her way. Lloyd bent over the rail of the stairs with his index finger touching his lips and gave me the “Shh,” sign. I guessed he didn’t want them to know we were back yet, either.

He looked ridiculous standing there in socks. I stifled a giggle as I crept toward the wine and was relieved to find that it had already been opened. I wouldn’t have a corkscrew to wrestle with, or a “pop” they might here hear. I quietly poured two small glasses, placed the bottle exactly back where I’d found it, and turned toward Lloyd to retreat back up the seven flights of stairs to my “room” — which was really just a shoebox with lace curtains. Lloyd’s was on the eighth floor; he was pretty sure his room was actually the attic.

I’m not sure how it happened, as there were no obstacles between the staircase and me. But I tripped. Somehow, I managed to keep hold of both glasses — while the contents of each flew out and landed in red splatters on the white carpet. I looked up at Lloyd. He was pale-faced and mortified. In perfect, comic synchronicity, our heads snapped towards the TV room; remarkably, our hosts hadn’t heard a thing! I softly walked to Lloyd and handed him the glasses. He shook his head in disbelief and snuck up the stairs, leaving me to fend for myself! I realized that if I crawled on my belly to my backpack, they wouldn’t be able to see me. I had a towel in there I could use to clean this up! Yep, the commemorative towel given to me by my friends Steve and Johnnie from WGN in Chicago that boasted, “In with the goat — out with the curse,” celebrating the Cubs and their victories in 2005.

The B&B couple continued to watch TV, their arms draped lovingly around one another … in matching sweaters? No, surely not. I shook my head and, not 10 feet behind them, went back to the crisis at hand — clawing at the carpet with my goat towel like an unleashed hellhound. Luckily, they had treated their carpet with some type of stain-guard. So with effort, and more than a few prayers, most of the wine came right out. Most of it.

The next morning, we crept downstairs and loaded out of their home before they awoke, while it was still dark outside. I left a thank-you note and some CDs on their spotless marble countertops. Once outside, I noticed that besides us “freebies,” they had no guests. Zilch. But that hadn’t stopped the owners from placing a large clay pot in the parking space next to theirs. Flowers were spilling over the sides of the pot, and in the middle of the colorful bouquet was what looked like a freshly painted sign that read, “GUEST PARKING ONLY AT ALL TIMES.”

Nice, I thought. Lloyd must not have noticed the sign, because he was a gentleman through and through and had he seen it, I was certain he wouldn’t have pulled our rental right up to the base of that clay pot. We loaded up in haste, and as we disappeared around the corner I could swear I saw the hostess burst out of the house with arms waving.

Nice.

By Terri Hendrix

THM Music (C) (P) 2010

"Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art"

Compassion for the Curmudgeon

2011-03-09T00:28:00.000-08:00

"When any of us are told
That there are too many people in the arts
And that the internet has overloaded us
And leveled the playing field
I always remind gloomy doomsayers
That there are never too many sunsets
And that there is never enough beauty
So we must all stay creative."

— David Amran

His lonely
Is only
A blank space
In the hallway
On the wallway
Between the hanging
Of paintings
Of lonely
That ain't lonely
At all...
Well...the Art Mob's out tonight
Yeah...the Art Mob's out tonight
Ahhh...you better look good
Yeah...you better act right
'Cause,
The Art Mob's out tonight
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!

— Terry Allen "Art Mob"

I'm a music fan and an ardent record buyer. I buy more music than I should and more than I can probably afford. I find that it keeps me inspired. I get lots of music for free. I have boxes of free CDs given to me by other artists out there on the road. Between independent music and the music I buy that reaches my radar for one reason or another, I stay pretty satisfied as a whole with my music library. I do have to invest in it. it takes time, research, and money for me to stay in the loop of what's happening musically. I have every single record Levon Helm has released. He's knocking it out of the park in his 70's! He has a career spanning decades for a reason. He plays in tune. He plays in time.

I find the history of American music just as fascinating as those that write about it. Only if, of course, they have listened to the music and delved into the entire catalogues of the music and artists they intend on writing about.

On this end, I just like music. From those making millions to those surviving off a tip jar. If it's in tune and in time, I'll find it and buy it. Terry Allen's "Salivation," was never on the pop charts. Yet, his influence on up and coming artists borders on the surreal. The same can be said about Richard Buckner. I have bought every single one of Lady GaGa's records. I like to stay in the loop. Whenever someone questions my musical taste on an artist, I always ask if they are truly familiar with the music I like, that they find questionable. More often than not, they don't know one song by the artist they "don't get." The worst would be folks I know who get their music for free and never buy music or invest in their own music library.

I danced and kissed the moon to ABBA on New Year's Eve even though their song "Chiquitita" makes me laugh - and not in a good way. I have no shame when it comes to buying music. I am only ashamed I maxed out my Visa on it.

American Idol is what it is. At least folks are learning what "in tune" means. I think gatekeepers in the music industry are fans in "suits." They like what makes the register ring. Personally, I prefer the old fashioned way of making a living doing music. But I still like American Idol.

Bands like Civil Wars, who are rising up the charts organically through word of mouth, are refreshing. Same can be said with Mumford and Sons.

Will the Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" (in rotation on my ipod right next to Snooky Pryor) be around in a decade? I doubt it. But god-willing my "Lovely lady lumps" will be — at a record store near you. In search of something or someone new to blow me away. It's out there. Always.

Terri Hendrix

Fruitcake or Coffee?

2011-03-06T12:55:00.000-08:00

Confession: I did not run the half marathon today (March 6th, 2011). I got in late from my gig last night. I woke up at 5:00 in the morning and did my stretches. I thought about how hard I trained for this half marathon. I even ate fruit AND ran in the snow (two things I dislike as much as lima beans).

I thought about my intentions, the Epilepsy Foundation, last weekend and my goofy eyeball, and my gigs in AZ this week. I did the smart thing. I went back to bed. I shoot for the moon. Sometimes I miss. But the sky sure is pretty when I'm flying.

Thanks for your support. If you are a stranger reading this, don't stay a stranger. Come see me play.
Kind Regards, Terri Hendrix

March GoatNotes

2011-03-02T15:34:00.001-08:00

"Thought allied fearlessly to purpose becomes creative force."
- James Allen from "As You Think"

As the gun goes off and 2011 rounds the corner into Spring, I'm reminded of my days running track in high school. I vividly recall the acrid scent of those track meets - a heady mix of sweat, Gatorade and a little bit of Icy Hot. Before the mile relay (my event), I would stand with my teammates at the side of the field, my heart pounding in my chest as I extended one leg, dipped my nose towards my kneecap, and streeetched one arm to touch my toes. Fear and dread would poke the corners of my confidence, digging in like the cleats on the soles of my track shoes. I kept to myself as my teammates joked amongst themselves. "Will I be the one to drop the baton?" I would ask myself nervously, shuffling from foot to foot in warm-up-anxiety mode. "If I do, I'll die. I'll surely die!" Wiping my sweating palms on blue polyester bloomers, I'd size up the competition on the other teams out of the corner of my eyes and pray profusely: "God ... God ... God ... help me."

Always, every race, the same fear, the same prayer. And rituals? Whew! Did I ever have superstitious rituals to insure victory. Prior to race day, I'd eat one apple (one and only one - I hate fruit.), and I'd load up on carbs with a spaghetti dinner at Mrs. Martz's across the street (only she could make the pre-race-day meal). And on race day, I'd always wear my lucky socks: white, with fluffy blue balls on the back - to match my bloomers.

Before those big meets, I would also scratch in ink (real tiny) on my desk the acronym "NTMO," which stood for "next time meet over." I know what you're thinking: "Huh?" See, for me, the goal was to return from the track meet and look at that desk with pride on the race I had run. If I let fear ruin my game, then when I reached my desk come Monday morning, I had that "NTMO" to face with disappointment in myself. Odd, it's true, but "NTMO" helped me get through that time in my life when I was 120 pounds of awkward girl on shaky, knobby knees with pimpled skin and braces - a time in my life when, even though I didn't appreciate it then, I was fortunate to only have races to worry about. Well, races and passing geometry.

Aside from youth, though, not much has changed since those days. True, I'm not as limber as I once was - my joints creak even thinking about my old warm-up stretches; but I still use Icy Hot (more these days than back then), and I'm still with teammates on a field. Sure, the teams and jerseys have changed over the years - which is good, because you could not pay me to wear those bloomers they made us run in - but I'm still in the race. And I still enter each year (or race) with superstition and prayer. At the starting line, I make a point of eating at least one black-eyed pea, which I hate about as much as I hate fruit. And, just as I did in my youth, I try to down at least one apple on gig day (I'll eat an apple, but NEVER kiwi - anything green that has hair long enough to shave, I ain't eatin'). And I set goals (like ... eat more fruit). But the truly bizarre thing is that, all these years after my high-school track days, I still find myself writing "NTMO." I've grown out of scratching it on desks, but sure enough, before big shows, there I am scratching it out on a notepad in my music room.

It's funny how those quirky things can stay with you, even when you're supposedly "all grown up." But then again, what's "grown up" mean, anyway? Most folks I know that are "all grown up" have let the light go out in their soul. They have settled for existence.

I want there to be more to my life than just mere existence. It bothers me when I find myself glued to the Weather Channel or stuck in an autopilot loop of just flying and landing and driving from gig to gig and setting up and tearing down my equipment.

No matter what I do, where I go, or whatever trials this year might have in store for me, I want to remember my ability to laugh. I want to savor the moments that are worth remembering by jotting them down in my spiral-bound notebook. I want joy. And hope. And inspiration. And above all, a sense of purpose. Even if that sense of purpose is defined by coming home to my latest scribbled "NTMO" and knowing in my heart that I ran - and played - my best.

(C)(P) Terri Hendrix
Essay is from my book, "Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art" available in my store.

March Dates

2011-03-02T15:31:00.001-08:00

March 2011All shows will be W/Lloyd Maines

Sat. 3/5/11 @ 7:00 PM
Marble Falls, TX
Sana Vida
507 Hwy 1431 East
830-693-6000
sanavida.info

Sun. 3/6/11
San Marcos, TX
Moe's Better Half Marathon
Running Half Marathon
Info on the OYOU: wiloryrecords.com
Last October, I began training for a half marathon. I'll run Moe's Better Half Marathon on March 6th, 2011. Throughout the month of March, I'll be running and raising awareness for the Epilepsy Foundation of Central and South Texas.

Thur. 3/10/11 @ 7:30
Cave Creek, AZ
Cave Creek Coffee Company
6033 East cave Creek Road
480-488-0603

Fri. 3/11/11
Workshop at Roberto - Venn School of Luthiery
Cottonwood, AZ

Fri. 3/11/11 @ 7:30 PM
Cottonwood, AZ Old Town Center for the Arts
W/Special Guest Dan Engler
633 N. 5th Street
928-634-0940
oldtowncenter.org

Sat. 3/12/11
Workshop 2:00 - 3:30 PM "The Part That Ain't Art"
Tucson, AZ
Plaza Palominio
520-319-9966

Showtime: 7:30 PM
Tucson, AZ
Plaza Palominio
Suite 147
(Southeast corner of Swan & Ft. Lowell
2970 North Swan Road
520-319-9966 Information for workshop and show
rhythmandroots.org

Wed. 3/16/11 @ 4:00 PM
Austin, TX
G&S Lounge
2420 South 1st Street
SXSW Festivities
Third Coast Magazine Party

Fri. 3/18/11 @ 2:20 PM
Austin, TX
Maggie Mae's
Gibson Guitar Showcase
SXSW Festivities

Fri. 3/18/11 @ 7:30 PM
Austin, TX
St. Vincent de Paul
1327 S. Congress (in parking lot)
Lone Star Music Stage
SXSW Festivities
lonestarmusic.com

Sat. 3/19/11 @ 7:00 PM
San Marcos, TX
Price Seniors Center
Greater San Marcos Area Seniors Association
222 W. San Antonio Street
This is a benefit for the Price Seniors Center. Performance is to be held in the historic 1910 room with desserts, meet and greet, and a book signing held during intermission. Cash wine bar! Advance tickets and information:
Buy 1 = $20
Buy 2 = $30
Come help support this historic center.
512-392-2900
priceseniorscenter.org
Purchase tickets right here and get a free "Cry Till You Laugh" CD with your ticket! (Click link below)

Fri. 3/25/11 @ 9:00 PM
Galveston, TX
Old Quarter
Please bring supplies for local animal shelter.
Food, leashes, and old towels are needed.
W/Special guest Marina Rocks
413 20th Street
409-795-7777

Sat. 3/26/11
Purple Day
http://www.purpleday.org

Sun. 3/27/11 @ 7:30 PM
The Woodlands, TX
Dosey Doe
W/Band
Montgomery County Women's Center Benefit
25911 Interstate 45
281-367-3774
http://www.doseydoe.com

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Terri-Hendrix--March-2011-Tour-Dates-and-GoatNotes.html?soid=1101187148161&aid=3NOfkeAUShs

2011-03-02T15:30:00.000-08:00

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Terri-Hendrix--March-2011-Tour-Dates-and-GoatNotes.html?soid=1101187148161&aid=3NOfkeAUShs

February 2011 "The Love Boat Versus Lip Rot"

2011-02-09T16:31:00.000-08:00

Greetings from San Marcos, Texas

Greetings fellow Aquarians and Amigos!

Given that February is the month of love, I feel I must address the fact that I don't write too many love songs. I suppose one reason, is that I'm not exactly the romantic type. If potential suitors were to crawl up after me on a vine, I'd mace them. I suppose I learned these survival techniques from my mom. When I was a kid, she'd say stuff like, "If you get kissed, your lips will rot." She'd follow this warning with, "Danger, danger everyone's a stranger - run!" As a kid, I lived in fear of catching "something" or someone catching me. Sex Education did not make my fears subside one bit. If anything, I now had pictures to accompany what could potentially happen to me if I kissed anyone.

I was too young to realize that my mom was trying to protect me from the dangers young girls can find themselves. I was so clueless, that I'd even wonder why the lips didn't rot off the faces of my favorite TV stars. They got lots of kisses. Especially on the series, "The Love Boat." I'd perch in front of our black and white television and catch every episode and kiss I could. Our old TV sported rabbit ears and a channel dial as big as a dinner plate. It had a booty on it that rivaled J.Lo's. This was of course, before flat screens, cable, DVDs, or a remote control.

Back then, it seemed like every time I'd catch an episode of "The Love Boat," it would coincide with the exact day that my braces were tightened. My mouth would hurt so bad that my eyes would water. To ease the pain, I'd sit there, with an icepack stuck to my face and silently curse the captain of "The Love Boat." I was envious that he was so well versed on all things love. He was wise. And I felt like a dumb-dumb.

Life grew even more interesting for me, after my orthodontist introduced my "Brace-Face" to headgear. He beamed and quacked, "No one will notice at school." I'm not sure what planet he was on. I guess my mother was happy, because me wearing headgear would definitely prevent me from being kissed, and thus contracting lip rot.

Had I not been so mortified at the thought of wearing headgear to school, I would have had fun with my situation. I'd have stuck magnets on its rim and hung charms around my mouth. I was too young to see the humor in it and too selfish to thank my parents for fixing my teeth. Age can wait. Wisdom can hurry. It took too long for me to be thankful.

Years passed, and my stubborn teeth refused to conform. My orthodontist remained undaunted and my trips to his office continued well into high school. Finally, not even braces, headgear, or fear would stop me from puckering up my lips and kissing the kid with the sandy brown hair. I puckered and puckered and puckered. When I was assured no germs would meet my tongue, we kissed. It should come as no surprise to you, that the kid with the sandy brown hair told everyone at school about our first kiss. I think the exact words were, "She kisses like a fish." I wish I would have made fun of those bullies and that kid with the sandy brown hair. I would have jabbed my finger in their chests and yelled, "Fish Kisser!" Because they'd obviously all had experience kissing fish. You can't run from bullies. They have lip rot. You have to square your jaw, and run at bullies and squirt their lips with truth, piss, and vinegar. These days, I suppose you also have to pray they don't have a gun.

When I was young, I was so busy running away or chasing after unrequited love, that I didn't see I was surrounded by true unconditional love. I've been unable to write a song about that type of love. The love that accepts you for who you are - where you are. The love that lets you be yourself - unedited. Warts and all. The love that makes you reach beyond yourself and be a little less selfish and a little more giving. A love that's compassionate. A love that listens. A love that lives each day to the fullest and expects you to do the same. A love that won't settle for doldrums and depression. A love that does not want to swallow you, hover around like a mosquito, or pull you under the waves. A love that strengthens. A love that has its own life. A love that knows not of jealousy - only of trust. A love without lies. A love without cages, fences, walls, or borders. A love that embraces faith. A love that sees God. Loves God. But does not fear God or speak for God. A love that does not judge, exile, kill, draw blood, or throw stones.

Perhaps I don't write love songs, because the music has already been written. It perches in my heart and sings its own tune and dances to its own drum. I love to live. I live to love.

My mom said, "Always be who you are. Then you don't have to worry about remembering who it was you pretended to be." She had it right. Perhaps she was a little "off" with her motherly advise in my youth, but for the most part, she had it right. There is such a thing as lip rot. It's the opposite of love. It's hate. And when I see it, I do run from it. A bully is usually just insecure and harmless. But folks who hate, they are a worrisome lot. I don't run because I'm scared of hate. I run because haters usually can't be reasoned with at all. Regardless, Cupid's got my back.

Happy Valentine's Day!
Terri Hendrix

(C)(P) THM Music February 2011

Dates are shows with Lloyd Maines.

Sat. 2/1/11
Street Date Release: Book (Companion to "Cry Till You Laugh" CD)
"Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art"
Available at my store and Amazon.com
Book signings will be posted shortly.

Sat. 2/5/11 @ 8:00
Port Aransas, TX
Third Coast Music Theater
502 East Avenue G
361-749-4294
http://www.thirdcoastmusic.biz

We'll return to annual Austin and Houston shows Valentines 2012. This came up, and it conflicted with the annual dates. Thanks for understanding.

Fri. 2/11/11
Abilene, TX
Hardin Simmons University
Distinguished Alumni Awards Banquet
2200 Hickory
325-670-1000

Sat. 2/12/11 @ 7:15
Lubbock, TX
Rockin' Box 33 Concerts
SOLD OUT

Fri. 2/25/11 @ 8:00 PM
Dallas, TX
AllGood Cafe
2934 Main Street
214-742-5362

Sat. 2/26/11 @ 8:00 PM
La Grange, TX
The Bugle Boy
1051 North Jefferson Street (Hwy 77)
979-968-9944
http://www.thebugleboy.org

January AZ dates were rescheduled to this March 10th, 11th, and 12th. Please come see us.

Big Broadcast: You Want Music?!

2010-12-03T13:08:00.000-08:00

Big Broadcast: You Want Music?!

Terri Hendrix: "1000 Times" (from "Cry Till You Laugh")

2010-12-02T10:39:00.000-08:00

Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art (Companion book to CD)

2010-11-17T11:17:00.000-08:00

Wind Me Up 2010

2010-11-17T11:11:00.000-08:00

Wind Me Up
Written September 2004
Adapted November 2010

“And all’s I left was a sleepyhead,
One-light town by the bay
I stuck out my thumb when I was done
Listening to what that town had to say
Gossip, nothin’ but gossip

Wind, wind, wind me up
Watch, watch, watch me go
Wind, wind, wind me up
Watch, watch, watch me go
Wind me up and watch me go
Baby, I’m gone.”
— “Wind Me Up” (Terri Hendrix and Al Barlow) from Wilory Farm

With the turn of the leaves and the toll of the school bell, fall has arrived. Hearing the yellow bus squeal to a stop in my neighborhood, I’m reminded of my own days as a passenger to and from school. And the thing I remember most, was that I just ... wanted ... to ... fit ... in. As a grown woman, I’ve discovered that standing apart from the crowd and doing your own thing can often be very rewarding — or at the very least, satisfying. But the little-school-girl-me wanted no part of that. I ached for acceptance. And I firmly believed I knew exactly what it was that separated me from that “in crowd” I so wanted to belong to: my mother. It was all my mother’s fault, if for no other reason than that she insisted on picking out our clothes for school. Needless to say, this pummeled my independent heart. (Yes, the same independent heart that wanted so badly to wear “normal” clothes just like all the cool kids so I could fit in and not stand out.) But none of that mattered, because my mother dressed us, and that was it!  

Every morning, we’d stand as rigid as the ironing board we used to starch our pants, and my mom would meet us at the front door at 0600 hours (military time). Only upon passing her inspection were we permitted to go out into the chilly dark to wait for the school bus.

One afternoon, during math, I grew increasingly frustrated as I struggled with the restricting collar of my shirt. I called it my “itchy doily” shirt because it resembled a napkin, curled up like a cone, and it irritated the bottom of my neck. For the mathematically challenged, sitting through addition (FOM) was hard enough. As I scratched my neck raw, an idea bloomed. I came to the realization that I couldn’t wear what wasn’t there. I was  gonna have to take action!

So ... one evening after supper, I took out the trash. And with it, a paper sack filled with undesirable items from my closet. In the shadow of the trees, I jumped the fence into the ally that ran parallel to our backyard. With my heart pounding in my throat, I raced to the spot I’d picked out the day prior. Being scared of the dark, I hastily tossed the neon green “high waters,” every item I owned that was polyester, and of course the “itchy doily” into the hole I’d dug. Lastly, I ripped up and buried my sister’s bright blue, polka-dotted dress. I didn’t do this for her. I did it because that bright blue dress with polka dots the size of fifty-cent pieces was soon to be my hand-me-down. I shuddered in glee as I covered it up with dirt. Completing my task, I sprinted back home, cleared the fence, and whistled my way back into the house. Slinking into the room I shared with my sister, I curled up on my pillows and slyly looked at her as she arched her eyebrows in one of her “oh, you’re going be in so much trouble” looks.

Sure enough, accusations flew the next morning when my mom discovered most of my wardrobe missing. She threw her hands in the air in disgust and put me on instant dress restriction. That was a fate worse than death! With head down, I boarded the bus that day in what I called my “Buttercrust Dress,” due to the fact that it was red-checkered and looked like a tablecloth. It had been spared burial because I’d forgotten to sort through my laundry basket. Walking down the aisle, I forced a smile through my braces. I quickly took my seat, and squashed my lunch bag with my egg-salad sandwich in it to my lap, because I thought it reeked like farts. I then dutifully saluted my mother through the bus window. And on I ventured down the road to yet another day of sixth grade.

If I cared what people thought of me now as much as I cared in the sixth grade, I’d be unemployable. For sure, I would have never stepped foot onstage. As a performer, it’s my job to do my best to please those that come to see me play, but I just can’t worry about what their impression is of me when they leave — because it’s not my business. Sometimes I fall on my face, and I look like a fool. But at least I try — regardless of the outcome. It took me eons to be able to muster up the gumption to “just do it.” Yes, eons — and I still wrestle with second-guessing myself and occasional stage fright.

Recently, I performed at a fundraiser for children with specials needs at Floore’s Country Store in Helotes, Texas. As children ran about with ice cream drizzling from their chins, folks participated in the silent auction and mingled at picnic tables while fanning themselves. In the blistering sun, the audience hung with us, and heat aside, many handi-capable kids even joined us onstage to sing along to “Wind Me Up.” Choreographed on the fly, little hands and big hands twirled in the air together, making a winding motion to the lyrics.

I have a quote on my wall that reads, “Happiness is when you get really good at being yourself.” And those kids that day were happy. Physical limitations were cast aside. Special needs were buried. Wheelchairs became invisible. These kids were blissfully unaware of any need for acceptance. They simply didn’t care. Completely comfortable in their own skin, they laughed, sang and danced, all for the sake of the song — and for the fun of it.

In memory of Eric Stuart Obermann, September 20, 1981 – August 10, 2010

“Despite his deteriorating physical condition, Eric became an active advocate for ALS patients, helping to raise awareness and funding to help pay for services for patients and research for a cure. He participated in over 10 “Walk to Defeat ALS” events across Alabama, and journeyed to Washington, D.C., every May to meet with his Congressmen and provide ALS awareness at ALS Advocacy Day. In 2005, he testified before a U.S. Senate subcommittee hearing on ALS. His work with ALS inspired hundreds of ALS patients, caregivers and supporters across the United States. He received a commendation from the Governor of Alabama for his efforts in raising awareness of ALS, and also received honors from the ALS Association for his advocacy work in Montgomery and Washington, D.C.

Donations to the ALS Association of Alabama or the Eric S. Obermann Foundation, a charitable fund that provides college scholarships, may be sent to PO Box 2888, Huntsville, AL 35804.”
— Obituary (All Saints Church, Alabama)

Terri Hendrix
All rights reserved
(C)(P) THM Music 2010

The Art of Removing Wallpaper (Written in 2004) (Adapted 2010)

2010-11-11T20:40:00.000-08:00

The Art of Removing Wallpaper
April 2004

“Bad politicians are sent to Washington by good people who don’t vote.”
— William E. Simon

“If you have been voting for politicians who promise to give you goodies at someone else’s expense, then you have no right to complain when they take your money and give it to someone else, including themselves.”
— Thomas Sowell

“I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.”
— Susan B. Anthony

“Mind is the master power that molds and makes
And we are Mind, and evermore we take
The tool of thought, and shaping what we will,
Bring forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills.
We think in secret, and it comes to pass
Our world is but our looking glass.”
— James Allen

Last April, right after settling into a new home, I began a new journal: “The Art of Removing Wallpaper.” I called it that because the house I bought was a monument to bad wallpaper. We’re talking football helmets, flowers, hearts, loops, squares and polka-dots, not to mention the prints with various wild animals. The past tenants had even attempted to wallpaper the light fixtures. While undergoing the painstaking task of removing the eyesore, I listened to a lot of radio and television. With the upcoming presidential election, I realized that most of what I heard was wallpaper, too. And, for the most part, I found it just as ugly as the border of ducks flying into the miss-matched field of brown-checkered print that adorned my walls. Sometimes, when I grew bored or frustrated, I turned everything off and just listened to the scraping sound my tools made against the wall.

As I removed the wallpaper and thought about what I’d been hearing on the news, reading in the paper, and researching online, I came to the conclusion that the deregulation of the media had made it virtually impossible to get to the truth. Adding to my uneasiness, national headlines and bylines all had a similar look and feel. Almost like that of a record release. I’d seen propaganda for breaking a new artist before — where both the press and the entire team behind the artist seemed in perfect synchronicity. Regardless of where one might stand politically, the message we were all receiving was coming from the deep pockets of a unified corporate machine.

The more I thought about it, the more I needed a few answers — if only for myself — on who owned what news source. As I slowly but surely reconstructed my home décor, I researched all the different media outlets and the companies that backed them via advertising dollars. Being the perpetual optimist, I was surprised to admit that what I discovered flat-out sucked lemons. It didn’t seem democratic to me that a few consolidated giants outright owned, and therefore controlled, every media channel — from billboards to my own Internet connection. I simply wasn’t gonna be able to take most of what I read in the newspaper or heard on TV, regarding the state of our nation, at face value anymore.

Arriving at my perception of the truth regarding our current “whirled” events was difficult. I had just about gotten a grip on my feelings when, en-route to Florida, I looked up and noticed two televisions, side by side, at the airport. On the left screen was the war coverage, with all its gory facts running underneath the picture. And on the right screen were cheerleaders leaping gleefully into the air after their college basketball team scored yet another point. I bobbed my head in disbelief back and forth between the two visuals, occasionally rubbing my eyes to check if I was indeed watching soldiers in the heat of battle right next to a sporting event. The image left me feeling ... all muddied up again.

Last week, I got a call from a friend who has a son who’s, yes, fighting this war. He’s young. Still has baby fat on his cheeks. Smells like aftershave even though his facial hair’s peach fuzz. My friend used to think that sons and daughters who joined the service and survived drill sergeants and basic training really didn’t have to worry so much about the defending-your-country part of the deal. Her boy, out of options for a career choice, signed his name on the dotted line for the medical benefits and college tuition. But when he enlisted, his forms clearly stated just what his deployment might entail. So today, he’s in Iraq — a small, brave soldier.

It seems like just yesterday when her boy used to collect tips for me on Saturday afternoons at Gruene Hall as I banged out Fleetwood Mac and John Prine tunes. Oh, those were the hottest months of the summer, when the air was too hot to breathe and merely looking at the sidewalk tanned our faces. They were simpler days, when my only concern was the sweat beading above my hairline, trickling down my forehead, and carrying mascara into my eyeballs and making them burn. This kid would sit by his mom, and when I’d motion to him, he’d mingle with the audience with my tip jar in tow. His pudgy cheeks turned red with the heat and later excitement as the glass jar filled up with dollars. He’d make a few tips for himself, run across the street to the General Store, and use his earnings on homemade peanut-butter fudge that he’d share with me after my show. Season after season, as those afternoons dwindled into memories, I watched as my friend’s boy turned into a pimply faced high-school senior, then a backwards-hat-wearin’, Robert-Earl-Keen-worshipin’ college kid, and later, father to a 15-month-old baby. The last time I saw him, I raked my hands across his burred haircut, pinched his cheeks, and declared, “You’re all grown up now!” At the time, it felt like a lie because his face still looked like that of the lil’ kid I so fondly remembered. Today, I’m thinking that he is indeed ... all grown up now.

As I diligently continued to remove wallpaper (off the walls and in my life), for all the ugly parts I occasionally uncovered, I uncovered a lot of beauty, too. And the ugly parts, well, I knew I’d get through it, over it, and around it … someway. Perhaps with a little luck — and spackling paste.

For some — I’m not just thinking of the Irish — clover represents good luck. For others, it’s nothing but a weed. You can’t kill clover. It’s a gardener’s nemesis. I have a neighbor who wages an endless battle with the clover invading her beautiful garden. And yet, during our recent unreasonably cold (for Texas!) February, my yard turned into a brown and yellow wasteland — except for one cheerfully green patch of defiant clover. I grew to enjoy my clover as much as my neighbor loathed hers. For my neighbor, clover was a demon. For me, it was a little green patch of hope on a mud pit. Sometimes difference is the only thing two folks have in common.

Opinions swing widely on the topic of just how much regulation there should be in our government. It seems these days that opposition is weeded out and only those that hang with the “wallpaper” are heard. I hear their voices loud and clear, but they don’t speak for me. My friend’s kid, along with all the other young men and women his age out there on that battlefield — they speak for me. They defend both my independence and my freedom. But as much I honor their brave service, I flat don’t think they should have to risk paying the ultimate sacrifice for what so many Americans feel is a dubious cause at best. And though my hands feel tied, I feel I have to stand up for them and beg that someone in the mainstream news media separate themselves from the “yeasayers,” rise from behind their news desk and use their national pulpit to scream — loud enough for the entire world to hear — this “four-letter” sentence: “This war is wrong.”

I had a blowout with my mom and dad about the war in Iraq over Easter weekend. I said the four-letter sentence and my dad spun around and called me a “communist.” Whenever I disagree with my father on anything, I’m called a communist. If I say, “Hey Dad, don’t grill the steaks when the fire’s that hot, you’ll burn ’em,” I’ll hear a grunt, followed by, “communist.” My dad’s a smart man, too … even though he thinks Fox is the only real news channel and CNN is, you guessed it, communist — right along with AARP and Reader’s Digest.

It’s my hope — no, my belief — that my voice, even if found offensive to some, will never be stymied as long as this country’s called America. You’ll find me right on the edge of the middle, removing the wallpaper so I can see both sides of the story. I don’t have time to be apathetic. I’ll write about my beliefs and I’ll sing them no matter how many potential fans I might lose in the process. For in my heart, I’m a folk singer, centered on the belief that in the end, the human spirit, like clover, will triumph and be heard — in spite of the deregulation of the media.

This version is what I wish I would’ve written back in 2004 but didn’t. I sent out a watered-down version instead. I suppose I was too scared to speak the truth — at least how it appeared to me. I wrote “Monopoly,” and a few other political songs, and shut up and sang. I’m not chicken anymore. I can just hear my father when I tell him my thoughts about this most recent election and how the voice of the people will never get heard as long as elections are won and lost by lobbyists, underhanded special interest groups, corporate conglomerates and the advertisers who back them, and those with the deepest pockets. Here’s the “Grunt.” Then the baffled look like, “How can you be my kid?” And then most certainly, “Communist.”

No, Dad. “American.”

The Art of Removing Wallpaper (By Terri Hendrix) THM All rights reserved 2010

Catching the Bus - Wrote this some time back

2010-10-13T01:44:00.000-07:00

It was a huge honor to play the 42nd Annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the grounds of the National Mall in Washington, D.C. In addition to spotlighting NASA and the country of Bhuthan, the program that year also featured a celebration of the culture of Texas - in particular our food, wine and music. As a self-professed music nerd, I own pretty much every Smithsonian Folkways recording that's ever been released, so I was in hog-heaven to be part of their annual event. I gotta say, though, that when I think back on it, it was hard work!

The tents were not set up correctly, so they didn't vent properly to allow air to circulate. As a result, it was sweltering on that stage - so bad in fact, that my pick guard on my Gibson had melted and lifted up! But regardless of the heat, we played several times a day - every day. I was so pooped, that by day's end, I'd have to practically drag myself to the main meeting place to catch the bus.

Catching the bus.

This was turning out to be an adventure. We shared the bus with anyone having to do anything with the festival, and were all staying at the same hotel - so it was always crowded! We'd form a single-file line, and bake in the afternoon heat as we waited for our ride. We'd wait. And wait. And wait. More than just a little envious of the lucky souls who'd made it in line earlier than us, as they filled bus after bus. While waiting in line, I'd fantasize about the cold AC blasting back in my hotel room. I'd think about anything but the waterproof mascara running down my cheeks and the sweat stains that trailed from the pits of my arms to my waist.

One afternoon, while eagerly anticipating the bus, I struck up a conversation with the legendary bluesman, Texas Johnny Brown, and his band. I marveled at this man's stamina! At his age, he'd performed not only in the heat, but also in a long-sleeved, purple polyester suit! But he did look spent, frail, and weary. He was clutching a small silver suitcase in his hands. He looked up at me and shot me a crooked road-weary smile. This old man needs some rest - he's flat tuckered out, I thought, shaking my head in worry.

It wouldn't be long, I reassured myself, because finally, we were first in line! I marveled at our luck, glancing back at the line that now trailed to the end of the block where the Bhutanese were gathered. I studied them in polite curiosity. Mostly practicing Buddhism and Hinduism, the people of Bhutan were - according to my fact sheet in my festival program - a peaceful people. Many of the men were bald and looked like monks. Both men and women wore robe-like garments that wrapped around their bodies, came to the knee or lower, and fastened at the waist with a cloth belt. Most wore colorful woven shawls and sandals made of rope that tied around their ankles. "The Bhutanese are sweet and shy people," we had been told. "Honor their customs and try to respect a culture that's very different than ours." Watching them chatting amongst themselves, I had to admit that, though they certainly looked different, they did indeed seem at peace - and totally oblivious to the oppressive heat pounding down and baking them into the sidewalk.

I was just about ready to try and snap some photos of the Bhutanese when I heard the roar of a bus. Our bus! Finally! I picked up my guitars in anticipation and watched Texas Johnny Brown's band ready their gear, too. But then I noticed that just where the actual bus stop was had suddenly become very confusing to the driver. This was due to the fact that the Bhutanese had miraculously managed to make the line - the one that we were at the front of - "flip" in their favor, by all turning around in the opposite direction. It didn't help that they were leaping up and down in the air in their sandal-clad feet pointing for the driver to STOP. To make matters worse, a volunteer from the festival rushed to their defense towing a "Bus Stop" sign with her. She plopped it down. The bus stopped. The Bhutanese loaded up. And the bus took off. And we were just flat stunned! It had all happened so fast, that we'd had no time to blink, much less object!

I looked at Texas Johnny Guitar Brown. I looked over at Lloyd. They each looked mad. "Uh-Oh," I thought. In a matter of minutes, a whole new tribe of Bhutanese gathered at the end of the block, joining those that had not made the last pick up. I watched them carefully, and waited. After another 40 minutes or so, melting in the heat (praying that my Gibson would live through the day), I heard the next bus approaching. Our bus! I said to myself, teeth clenched - seething.

In a sea of maroon Bhutanese smocks, an old legendary bluesman in a bright purple polyester suit is gonna stick out. And he did. We all jumped, howled, and pointed to where the REAL sign was for the bus stop. The Bhutanese jumped up and down too, trying to force the bus driver to look their way and see their own "sign." We watched with a sinking heart as the bus slowed and rolled to a stop where the Bhutanese were standing. Then, all of a sudden the bus lurched forward and pulled up to our corner! We shouted out with glee - until it kept right on rolling, past us and to the corner farthest from where any of us were standing. We heard a cry, and next, we heard the shuffle of at least fifty Bhutanese running toward the bus. Our bus!

But we had the lead! Texas Johnny Brown drew his suitcase to his chest and elbows out (ready to knock someone over if need be), sprinted toward that bus. To my amazement, that ol' cat was a flash of purple. I couldn't keep up, lost sight of him, and was soon engulfed in a swarm of Bhutanese.

I don't care where you come from, but there's a universal translation to body language. And I could just tell that the Bhutanese were fully aware that what they were doing was wrong! They shouted in glee, egging one another on, and seemed more than willing to trample us to get their way! So, with an instrument in each hand, I simulated the "chicken-dance" I'd done every year at Wursfest, in New Braunfels, Texas, and flapped the Bhutanese out of my way. I'm telling you, they were tough!

When I finally managed to squeeze onto the bus, I did so with at least four Bhutanese piling in at the same time, all of us practically spilling onto the lap of the driver - who was clueless to our plight. Lloyd shot through the door next, reaching the end zone with arms extended and instruments tucked to his sides. With relief, I saw that Texas Johnny Brown had made the bus, too. His silver suitcase once again clutched to his chest. He lifted a bony hand and gently smoothed down the jacket lapels on his purple suit. And the look on his face?

Priceless.

THM Music 2010

Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key: Discovering Woody Guthrie

2010-09-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

Rock the Goat
Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key: Discovering Woody Guthrie

“I lived in a place called Okfuskee
And I had a little girl in a holler tree
I said, ‘Little girl, it’s plain to see
Ain’t nobody that can sing like me
Ain’t nobody that can sing like me.’”
— “Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key” (Lyrics by Woody Guthrie)

Several years ago, I was invited to participate in a production, hosted by Jimmy Lafave, called “Ribbon of Highway, Endless Skyway,” which featured the music and writing of Woody Guthrie. A handful of other artists were involved, and it was an honor to have been asked to join them. I was to do both “Car Car” and “Pastures of Plenty,” and I quickly set about learning not only my two assigned songs, but also studying up to better familiarize myself with Woody Guthrie in general.

I knew I had some serious catching up to do. Although I had long since determined I was a “folk singer,” I had always brushed off Woody Guthrie’s music. As sacrilegious as this is to admit, I’d find my eyeballs glued to the ceiling when any song of his other than “This Land Is Your Land” would come up on my Smithsonian Folkways recordings. I just didn’t get it.

… “She said, ‘It’s hard for me to see
How one little boy got so ugly.’
Yes my little girly that might be
But there ain’t nobody that can sing like me
Way over yonder in the minor key
There ain’t nobody that can sing like me.”

I picked through my music library, listened to his songs, and still, much to my dismay, couldn’t get what the hype was about. I felt guilty just thinking this, as though I’d committed a folk-crime, so I kept it to myself. But deep down, I knew I was missing something that I needed to grasp, not only for the sake of the Woody tribute I’d committed myself to playing, but for my own art as well. Many of my peers claimed their writing improved after sinking their teeth into his catalogue.

My saving grace came by way of the purchase of a CD called Folkways: The Original Vision, with songs by Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly. I’ll never forget the day I popped the CD in my car stereo and drove around San Marcos running errands. The song “Car Car” came on, and I about lost it. I’d heard this song before, but this time, it really hit home. Here was this folk icon, doing what voice instructors these days call “lip flutters,” by way of a kids tune. I’m pretty sure when Woody wrote this song for his grandkids, he was unaware that making engine sounds with your lips was a vital part of warming up your voice before a show.

Wrapping up my to-do list, I sat in my car with the CD playing and my AC on high, reluctant to return home because the air conditioning unit in my house had quit again. The blast of cool air felt good on my skin. I opened up the CD and took the liner notes out of the jewel case just as Will Geer kicked into a spoken word piece Woody had written about songwriting:

“I hate a song that makes you think that you’re not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you’re just born to lose, bound to lose, no good to nobody, no good for nothin’, ‘cause you’re either too old or too young or too fat or too slim or too ugly or too this or too that … ” By the time Geer got to the part where Woody writes, “I am out to fight those kinds of songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood,” I was pumping my fist in the air and yelling “Yeah!” The words touched my soul because I felt the same way he did about songwriting — but had been able to put my own feelings to words. He nailed my convictions and did so with huevos. There was no mealy mouthed, lily-livered, yellow-bellied flip-flopping in the muse of Woody Guthrie, and I found that immensely gratifying.

When I finally returned home, I spun every recording with his name on it in my music library. It didn’t take me long to discover why he’d been labeled a socialist by some and a “Dust Bowl Troubadour” by others: because Woody spoke the truth and backed it up with music and essays about his experiences during the Great Depression. With the slogan “This Machine Kills Fascists” displayed like a neon sign on his guitar, he’d come to challenge government and corporate greed while championing civil rights. That night, after listening to his music and researching all I could about Woody Guthrie online, I practiced my two songs with a child-like excitement I’d not had in years when diving into new material.

… “We walked down by the Buckeye Creek
To see the frog eat the goggle-eye bee
To hear the west wind whistle to the east
Oh my little girly will you let me see
Way over yonder where the wind blows free
Nobody can see in our holler tree
And there ain’t nobody that can sing like me
Way over yonder in the minor key ...”

The more I listened, watched, read and marinated in all things Woody Guthrie, the more I realized he was anything but a saint. But it didn’t alter my opinion of him one bit. I was booked for another presentation of the “Ribbon of Highway” show, then another, and each time I heard the resounding voice of songwriter Bob Childers (who sadly passed away in 2008) recite excerpts of Guthrie’s essays, I became a little more emotionally attached to Woody Guthrie. One only had to study his work to comprehend he was a deep soul — and dark too. It’s rumored he wrote the song “Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key” about his mother, who suffered and died in a mental institution from Huntington’s disease — a disorder in which certain nerve cells in the brain waste away, or degenerate.

“Her mama cut a switch from a cherry tree
And laid it on the she and me
It stung lots worse than a hive of bees
But there ain’t nobody that can sing like me
Ain’t nobody that can sing like me.”

Huntington’s disease can be passed down through families, and on Oct. 3, 1967, Woodrow Wilson Guthrie would die from complications of the same sickness that claimed his mother.

Whenever people sing songs with conviction, be they political (“Pastures of Plenty”), deeply personal (“Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key”) or even just for kicks (“Car Car”) they’re in fact, in some small way, paying tribute to musicians like Woody Guthrie by being true to their muse. Every July, right around Woody’s birthday, folks come from far and wide to celebrate his legacy at the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival. Held in his hometown of Okemah, Oklahoma, the free festival lasts an entire weekend, with the music often spilling off the stage and into the parking lot for after hour jams with folks like the legendary David Amran and Terry “Buffalo” Ware.

“Now I have walked a long, long ways
And I still look back to my Tanglewood days
I’ve led lots of girls since then to stray
Saying ain’t nobody that can sing like me
Way over yonder in the minor key
Ain’t nobody that can sing like me.”

On Friday, July 16, 98 years (and two days) after Guthrie’s birth and almost 43 years since his passing, I stepped onto the Pastures of Plenty Stage at the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival, and sang “Pastures of Plenty.” During my performance, a lightning storm gathered off in the distance as the crowd fanned their faces in the sweltering heat. But I knew why perfectly sensible people left the comfort of their homes to dig their lawn chairs into the red dirt and tough it out in a crowd this size — with a heat advisory in effect.

We’d gathered here to pull the essence of all that was Woody Guthrie out of the past and into the moment. In celebrating Woody’s birthday party — with an electric storm, to boot, more than likely from the soles of Woody’s feet up in heaven as we danced around his “Atom Fire” — we were able to fill a little bit of the void his passing left with music … at least for the weekend.

I was back home, in San Marcos, by the time the festival concluded. I can almost tell you the time the final note was played, for I was on my porch swing with my mutts gathered round my feet, staring up at the moon — when I heard the echo.
Sing, Woody, sing. I hear the echo of your voice. You haunt me.

“Way over yonder in the minor key
Ain’t nobody that can sing like me.”

*****

Contribute toward the fight against a disease for which there is no cure:
Oklahoma Chapter
Huntington’s Disease Society of America
37 NE 63rd
Oklahoma City, OK 73105
Website: www.okhdsa.com

THM Music
All rights Reserved
2010

Inspiring Story: Bike enthusiast lives strong (By Carol Anderson)

2010-07-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

Bike enthusiast lives strong

By Carol Anderson
special to the Arizona Daily Star
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 10.18.2009
advertisement

I'm wearing one of those goofy yellow rubber bracelets today. I don't wear it all the time. There are a lot of reasons to wear one but some days I simply want to show my support for Lance Armstrong.
It's not just his amazing winning record; it's not his impressive athletic superiority; it's not that he is currently the most famous American cycle racer and cancer survivor.
Nope. I admire Lance for his message, not his muscle.
Once upon a time I used to ride a bicycle a lot. I have always owned a bike. In my youth the doctors encouraged exercise as a way to recover from polio, so I rode a sturdy three-speed from elementary through high school years.
Later, during the 10 years I chose to live without a car, my 12-speed was the only way to get anywhere I couldn't walk, bus or hitch. Bicycling to work, for pleasure and for exercise, kept me vigorously healthy and strong. There were also a half-dozen longer excursion trips totaling several thousand miles. 100 miles ? the infamous "century" ride ? in a single day? I rode it once. Just once. We did not have support vans to carry our water, food, sleeping bags or panniers; those we carried on our bikes. I'm not bragging here: I was so exhausted that day that I learned to set more realistic road goals. Sixty miles a day was way more fun.
Traveling by bicycle is the most thrilling of all my life adventures (so far). I spent one long summer riding the West Coast highway from Los Angeles to Portland before turning inland and riding east along the Columbia River. We camped along the way, ate farm stand fruits and vegetables, enjoyed regional festivals, and once spent a whole leisurely day in Oregon watching a lumberjack competition and eating smoked salmon.
Another trip took us from Tucson to Telluride and back on a tandem bicycle. I remember every aching mile of Eagle Pass in Colorado.
So when I watch TV coverage of professional cycle racers crossing the Pyrenees or the Alps, speeding uphill, I can only marvel at the training, the strength and the hard desire to win that drives these elite cyclists. I would have stopped and had a picnic lunch with the locals.
My rubber bracelet says "Livestrong," which has become the well-known rallying cry from Armstrong. His message is a fierce call to action for cancer research as well as an authentic, supportive vision of hope for cancer patients and survivors, and for the people who love them.
The message is especially important and inspirational for me these days. My mom, brother, father-in-law and several dear friends died of cancers. No one I know can say that they have not been affected in some way by cancer. Too many friends are currently engaged in the battle with this disease. And while my overall health is generally good, I now struggle with post-polio syndrome.
I don't ride daily anymore because of fatigue, but that did not stop me from buying a new "hybrid" bicycle. Long road trips are no longer an option either, but spinning around my neighborhood is still a thrill. There is wind in my helmet, knobby tires on the pavement, and the warmth of the little yellow bracelet encircling my wrist reminding me that I, too, can live strong every day.
Carol Anderson, a counselor for Pima Health System Community Services and a 30-year Tucson resident, enjoys walking in the desert, local food and music, bicycle riding, and writing the occasional essay. She has hosted a weekly radio program on KXCI Community radio for 24 years. We welcome submissions for this column of personal essays. Submit original pieces up to 1,000 words along with a short biography of the writer and contact information to Maria Parham at mparham@azstarnet.com. Please put Life in Print in the subject line. Selected essays will be published in ?Vamos!

From this date forward

2010-06-22T21:07:00.000-07:00

Hola there! I am currently posting on Facebook and Twitter. Please visit my website and click on the Facebook icon.

If you'd like to catch up on reviews or news about my new record please click "News" on my homepage.

Many thanks for your support,
Terri Hendrix

5/20/10 Update on Pre-Orders and Territown

2010-05-21T02:42:00.000-07:00

Greetings and Happy Mother’s Day!

Be you a Mom, Aunt, Sister, Friend, Teacher, you name it … all you ladies, I salute you. Be sure to use your “key” (the link below) to get your free gift this month … and feel free to share your gift with your friends!

GoatNotes It Shall Be

A few months ago, I encouraged you folks via “GoatNotes” to sign up for a new group called “Territown.” My wish was to create a separate list for you frequent flyers where special deals would be offered on my shows or new music. To get a “key” to this new group, I asked that you email back and tell me where you first heard my music.

My goal was twofold: I wanted to do something special for the people who have been supportive of my career over the years, and I wanted to get a better sense of who was on my email list. You see, I don’t miss the postage bills I accrued in the heyday of my original (paper) mailing list (not to mention the thought of the geological footprint it left), but I do miss having a face to go with every name — or having names, period. It’s hard to get a sense of the person with whom you are communicating when you only know them as “popml@theirserver.com.”

Upon reading the messages many of you sent me (to get that “key” into “Territown”), I was both touched and inspired. I want you to know that I kept every single one of your emails and photos.

After my team here at Wilory went about compiling the “new” list, we then sent out an email to “Territown” announcing that I have a new record and book, both called “Cry Till You Laugh,” coming out June 22. We told everyone who got the email that if they wanted to pre-order and get a “special price” for “Territown” members, all they needed to do was fill in the code words “Happy Feet” on their order form.

Well … almost immediately upon sending out that email, the calls started coming in for last minute additions to the “new” list. One of my favorites was the little girl who called and left this message on our answering machine: “My Mom’s on the Goat list but you need to add US to the NEW list.” She then whispered “happy feet” into the receiver, and followed that by shouting, “Our email is J underscore ... hyphen at ...,” until her message concluded with “dot com” and a chorus of giggles.

It didn’t take me long to realize that I can’t have a “membership” list. It’s not going to work for most of you or, frankly, me, because the majority of you switched to my new list anyway. So, my newsletter will remain “GoatNotes.” It will be much easier to manage and frankly more “me” than a “town.” In case you’re wondering where your “key” is, if you received this, you already have it. As a matter of fact, I have my first gift for you this month in honor of “Mother’s Day.” To pick it up, click the link in this email that says “Key.” It’s a gift you can share with friends as many times as you’d like.

The Purpose of Pre – Orders

All pre-orders will ship AFTER May 25th and BEFORE June 12th!

If you already pre-ordered (“Happy Feet”), we credited you back the $5.00 discount. The credit should be on your credit card statement now. Since last week, we adjusted things so that the $5.00 discount is already reflected by the prices listed in my store when you check out.

The purpose of pre-ordering will help launch the release of my record and book. In doing so, you’ll get both ahead of the release date, and at a discount. As I’ve said before, you are my major-label record deal.

SOLD OUT
Package Deal:
New CD, Book, Community Coffee Sample Pack, and “CTYL 2010” Limited Edition T-Shirt for $30 (plus a small shipping and handling fee of $2 U.S. and $6 Outside U.S.).

There are other pre-ordering options though! Just take a peek!

Cry Till You Laugh
June 22, 2010

This summer, I’ll release a brand new album called “Cry Till You Laugh” on my record label, Wilory Records. We began the project last September. It was originally going to be a jazz record, called (please don’t laugh) “Territown.” There’s no telling how many hours I spent researching the songs I’d cover as well as write, only to find out that the idea of doing an entire record in just one style was not in the cards for me this year. In the end, I let the songs fall in the genre of their own choosing. I love storytelling, politics and songs with a message, and have long since realized, at my soul’s core, that I’m a folk singer. But when I dream, I’m a jazz singer with a big band backing me up. On the days I kick back, I’m in boots, worn-out jeans or overalls, and I play the type of music some call “Americana.” These are the styles you’ll find on my new record. For many of you, this is nothing new, as every record I’ve ever done has hopped around stylistically.

What is different about this recording is that I felt I was able to apply most of the seasoning I’ve learned from years of playing music in the studio while tape was rolling. It also helped that I had some time off last year. I used it to work on my music and reach new directions artistically. I studied Charlie Musselwhite, Norton Buffalo and Mad Cat Ruth, and then applied what I learned from them when I played harp on my record. I used different styles of singing and playing on this record as well, from scatting on “Take Me Places” and “New Orleans,” to the style in which I sang on “Sometimes” and “The Berlin Wall.” I tried new instrumentation, too, writing quite a few of these songs with alternative tunings on my 12 string and hammering out new chord progressions on my keyboard, which is my latest instrument to learn. We also used more harmonies than we have in the past to create a wall of emotion musically. Finally, the songs were chosen or written to come across like a mix CD with a mood, a cohesive vibe, and a positive message.

In addition to the new album, I’ll simultaneously release a book of essays — also called “Cry Till You Laugh.” Some of the essays will be brand new and exclusive to this release, and others will be gathered from the “GoatNotes” and journal entries that I’ve shared via my mailing list and website, but all of them will tie into the songs and themes on my new album — with topics covering the music business, health, family, perseverance, road stories and finding a sense of purpose. My book will also be filled with song lyrics (both new and old), quotes, photos and artwork.

About the Songs & Book

1. Wail Theory (Poems by Dorothy Parker, Arr. Terri Hendrix)
It was fellow Texan songwriter Adam Carroll that loaned me my first Dorothy Parker book. When I first read Dorothy Parker’s “Wail,” the words sung to me. Her piece “Theory” sung to me as well. It then seemed only natural that I merge her two poems with harmonica and call it “Wail Theory.”

2. Slow Down (Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines)
I had this half-time chord progression, used in the chorus, for years. I worked out the kinks in this song during sound checks at the Cactus Cafe in Austin, Texas. I brought Lloyd in to help me wrap up these lyrics as I was making an easy subject matter too hard to comprehend.

3. Automatic (Jon Michael Sumler)
It was almost 20 years ago that I ended up with a cassette of one of my all-time favorite songs, “Automatic” by Mike Sumler. I knew, without a doubt, that “Cry Till You Laugh” was the album “Automatic” would fit best on. Somehow, after all these years, I ended up with the original demo of it, and after contacting Mike, found out that no other copy could readily be found. So with shaky hands, I played my cassette version of his tune one last time with it warbling in and out so I could capture it on my iPhone. Sighing with relief that I “had it,” I then ventured into the studio (the very next day) and transferred his song from my iPhone to my project’s hard drive. Shortly after, we played through it a few times as a band and recorded it. I had lived that song for so many years, the rough vocal I recorded that day in the studio ended up being my final take.

In the book, I turned this song into a chapter on what comes “automatic” when you make music your livelihood. This includes things like travel, learning an instrument, writing, maintaining health, and summoning the courage to play in front of an audience.

4. Hand Me Down Blues (Terri Hendrix)
Moods, just like weights, have a gravitational pull. It’s so easy to roll downhill with the force. Some days are an uphill climb. But when things happen in life that I can’t get over or climb, I try to tunnel through instead.

I took the lyric from this song, “Some things you don’t get over, you just get through,” and created a chapter called “Wail Theory” with essays about life’s proverbial “lemons” and “lemonade” and finding a way to learn from both.

5. Roll On (Terri Hendrix)
After playing the Ann Arbor Folk Festival, Lloyd and I were stuck on an interstate in Michigan during a white out. A native Texan, I’d never experienced anything quite like it. As the hours ticked by, we waited it out on the interstate, with the engine off, in the cold, to conserve gas. We had our eyes wide open, but were unable to see anything but white blinding snow pummeling us on I 94.

I based a chapter in my book on this song, along with “Come Tomorrow.” The subject matter embodies perseverance, Mother Nature, and organic gardening and its symbolic relation to living a full life.

6. Einstein’s Brain (Terri Hendrix)
A smile has and always will be my ally. This is one of the reasons why Mickey Mantle’s smile is mentioned in this song. My brain broke when I was about 7 years old. As I get older, it breaks more often. Laughter has proven to be the best medicine. It’s far cheaper and with fewer side effects than pharmaceuticals. Also, unlike health insurance, “laughter” can’t drop you. It picks you up.

In the book, this chapter is all about keeping the Mickey Mantle smile and facing adversity with humor. On my end, I was officially diagnosed with Epilepsy in 1991, but my medical records date back to 1989 and even further back to my childhood. Unfortunately, last year, history repeated itself and I found myself confronting the same issues I had during the recording and release of “The Art of Removing Wallpaper.” This experience has humbled me, and in opening up about my plight, I’ve encountered people with far greater obstacles than my own. They have in turn challenged me to rise above the trivial, scramble up from self-pity, and rather than stare at my feet with a scowl on my face, reach towards the sun: Zippity do da.

7. You Belong In New Orleans (Ike Eichenberg)
Ike wrote this artful piece about all the things that make me like New Orleans. It nails the significance of New Orleans as one of the have-to-go-to places to experience the melting pot of American music at its finest.

8. Sometimes (Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines)
We had just landed and boarded a bus and were in transit to pick up our rent car when this melody popped in my head. I can’t remember which state we were in as when I wrote this; it seemed we were on the road all the time and the trips were running together like tears. I kept the lyrics simple about the grace that people have to love you in spite of your faults.

9. The Berlin Wall (Terri Hendrix)
Musically, this was written like one of the many choral pieces I learned when I was studying opera. I had a nightmare, woke up, and charted what I’d dreamt to music. Lyrically, it’s both a metaphor and, literally, about the Berlin Wall, as wherever you laid your head to sleep the night before it was built was, for the most part, where you remained. It’s written from the perspective that wherever there is fear, there’s a wall. And birds, like hope, can make it over the top of the razor wire.

I’m an avid researcher of the deregulation of the media. I’ve written songs about this topic in the past and included their lyrics along with further thoughts on this subject, religion, fear, and love.

10. Hand Me Down Blues Reprise (Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines)
Sometimes life happens all at once. For me, music is the soundtrack that keeps life consistent in spite of its inevitable ups and downs. It takes time to sort out matters of the heart. Lloyd came up with the melodic dulcimer part that worked perfect with the music I had written. We merged the two together and with the harmonies to create this reprise.

11. 1000 Times (Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines)
I don’t leave the house without my recorder. Lloyd came up with this melody during sound check before a show held in an historic church in Arkansas. The stage was wooden, so when I later played back the guitar part of his that I’d recorded, the “kick drum” was there, too, courtesy of his foot. I wrote to this, took it to him, and we then recorded the song. Lyrically as well as within the writings in my book, my wish was to capture the loved ones I think of and for one reason or another, don’t always call as often as I should.

12. Hula Mary (Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines)
We did a show in the Virgin Islands, and aside from Lloyd feeding the iguanas French fries, which you are not supposed to do, we had much in common with the people that we met. One in particular, Hula Mary, ventures into the Blue Moon, a favorite pub and restaurant of the locals, with hula hoop in hand to while away her evenings. I found her unique expression of joyful freedom invigorating. Every town has a local with an independent spirit that makes them shine from within more than most. I took the opportunity to write about these “Freethinkers” and how they light the path for the rest of us.

13. Come Tomorrow (Terri Hendrix)
If you’ve ever taken a free fall into the dark, then you know it’s not a choice place to take up residence. I’ve landed there a few times Once I surfaced, I decided that I didn’t believe in the catchall phrase “forgiveness.” There are some things I think are unforgivable. But I don’t believe in wallowing in the muck, either. I’ll always try to lay down and then move on … come tomorrow.

14. Whatachoice (Terri Hendrix)
As I said, I don’t leave home without my recorder. Because of this, I have a collection of nuggets I’ve picked up on the road from across the country. On this particular night, I started recording because I liked how chipper the guy on the intercom at the drive through menu was, but what I caught instead was Lloyd trying to order for me. I got my way (and my cinnamon roll), but best of all, I got a snippet that has made me and my friends laugh so often over the years, I thought I’d share it with you.

A longtime motto of my label has been “Own Your Own Universe.” I suppose it’s because every time someone tells me “No,” I find a way to do it anyway. Those I work with feel the same way I do about their own work, so we make a good team. I made the “Whatachoice” chapter in the book about the triumphs and pitfalls of running my own label — think of it as a “crash course” in DIY.

15. Take Me Places (Ike Eichenberg, Amy Hall, Ike Eichenberg Music BMI)
The scatting on “New Orleans” and “Take Me Places” took me well over a month to learn correctly. We’d been doing these songs live for years, and they had each made it onto live albums, but we’d never really broken them down and studied them properly in order to master their complicated parts and really do them justice. Musically, these songs surpassed my expectations. I truly feel we went somewhere with this recording that we had never gone before. Just like the stages my music has taken me that I write about in my book.

Links:
Terri Site:
http://www.terrihendrix.com/
CTYL:
http://www.goestores.com/catalog.aspx?Merchant=wiloryrecords&DeptID=268710
Specials: http://www.goestores.com/catalog.aspx?Merchant=wiloryrecords&DeptID=268790
Dates:
http://www.terrihendrix.com/tour.html
Video & Soundbites:
http://www.wiloryrecords.com
Track Credits:
http://www.wiloryrecords.com

3/30/10 We are updating the website

2010-03-30T19:47:00.000-07:00

This is the place where I'll post fun stuff. Warm Regards, Terri

Happening right now ...

2010-02-03T19:22:00.000-08:00

Hello 2010 and Happy Valentines Month!
This month, I'm reminded of a favorite quote by Erma Bombeck, "Did you know that exercise is a dirty word? Every time I hear it, I wash my mouth out with chocolate." Also makes me think of a lyric by the great Billy Joe Shaver, "Love, is so sweet ... makes me dance when I walk down the street."

Dates

Tue. Feb. 2nd
This happened already, and it was an honor play this. I admire the Center for Texas Music History (based in San Marcos, my hometown). They care about Texas Music (UT could use some lessons), and people like Rod (Founder of the Kerrville Folk Festival) and the historical significance of Texas Music on American Music!
Rod Kennedy's 80th B-Day Celebration
For the Center for Texas Music History
Paramount Theater, Austin, TX,

Sat. Feb. 6th
Third Coast Music - Port Aransas, TX
502 East Ave. G
Doors open at 7:00
Show starts at 8:00
BYOB and appetizers served during intermission
Get Tix: 361-749-4294
www.thirdcoastmusic.biz

Wed. Feb. 10th
KUT
Eklektikos, Studio 1A
3 - 4 songs (listen live)
11:00 am
www.kut.org

Fri. Feb. 12th
Mucky Duck W/Band
2425 Norfolk
Houston, TX
Get tix: 713-528-5999
www.mcgonigels.com

Sat. Feb. 13th
Cactus Cafe W/Band
On the UT Campus
Austin, TX
512-475-6515

Sun. Feb 14th
Happy Valentines to you.
I'm taking this day off ... to eat chocolate.

Sat. Feb. 27th
Bugle Boy
1051 N. Jefferson Street
HWY 77
La Grange, TX
979-968-9944
www.thebugleboy.com

New CD W/Book

I've been in the studio wrapping up a new record, which will be coming out at the end of May. I can' t tell you the name of it yet, because that part is still up in the air, but I can tell you this much: The album will have 15 new tracks on it, and if you buy it old school style on CD, rather than as a download it will come packaged with a hardbound book of the GoatNotes essays that I' ve written over the years. Some of these GoatNotes will be old favorites, and others will be brand new and exclusive to this book.

It's an ambitious project. I've been working hard on both my songwriting and the book and have to admit, I've never been this excited about a new project before. It's been the most musically challenging, but the songs are a blast to play. A while back, I said my new record was going to be a jazz record. It 's not (things change!) There is jazz on the album, but there are also elements of a whole bunch of other styles. That probably won' t surprise a lot of you who have followed my career for a while. But there is a distinctive difference to the sound of this recording from the background vocals to the instrumentation to even the subject matter. When I say I' ve never been this excited about an album before, it s because it s literally taken me places with my music and writing that I' ve never been before. I can' t wait to share it with you.

But first things first. In order to help cover studio, printing and manufacturing costs for both the record and the book, I've decided to bundle up five of my previous CDs for the crazy sale-price of $20.10, tax included! Yes, I know that sounds nuts. But I've been doing this "own your own universe" thing since 1996, and it's your support (and my own wild ideas) that makes this possible. I realized a long time ago that even though I'm proud to be an independent artist, I actually do have a "major record deal" with you. So this "T-Tunes Sale" is me offering you a major deal in turn.

Here's the skinny:

For $20.10, you get ALL of the following:
1. "Wilory Farm" (1998)
2. "Terri Hendrix Live" (aka "Live at Cibolo") (1999)
3. "Live in San Marcos" (2001)
4. "The Art of Removing Wallpaper" (2004)
and (drum roll, please)!
5. "Left Over Alls" (2008)

Did I mention that shipping is FREE? (There is a small, $7.00 flat fee on orders outside the United States.)

This sale will also help me clear some of my inventory (to make room for that new record) and get a jumpstart on my spring cleaning and the new decade. So, whether you're new to my music and want to complete your collection, or already have everything but enjoy gifting and sharing new music with friends the "old- fashioned" way (via CD!), everybody wins!

We accept most major credit cards, and YES, I am happy to autograph your CDS! There's a spot designated for this on your order form.

Click to Order: www.terrihendrix.com Store & More

Your Key to Territown

I posted my "2010 T-Tunes Sale" in my ecommerce store last month. As part of the deal, I promised that everyone ordering the bundle would also get what I called a Key to Territown. If you' ve already placed your order, know that you are already in my database and have your key. So what is it, you ask? Your key is your membership to something brand new here in Wilory Records world: Club Territown. Territown is a place just for you frequent flyers who have been with me for well over a decade now and those of you who joined the ride later but caught up with gusto!

With your key to Territown, you will get discounts on everything from concert tickets to new merchandise I come out with in my store. You will also continue to get my GoatNotes and tour dates once a month.

Now, I know times are tight, and maybe not all of you are in a spot where you can order something right now. But if you are a true fan of my music, I would still like to offer you a key to Territown. All you have to do is reply to this email with Territown in the subject line, and if you could, just let me know how and when you first discovered my music whether it was through a friend, a song on the radio or maybe a show you caught way back when (or last month). That 's it!

Club Territown will be a fun place for fun folks, and I hope you' ll join me there. If there' s one thing I plan on doing this new decade, it 's having fun with music! If you were a Wilory Farmhand (street team for the last two decades), this will be our new home. I'm planning exciting concerts and events for those in this circle. This will be where the mainframe for all things Wilory Records along with my music will be housed in the coming decade.

In actuality, I'm dividing my mailing list. There will be one for Club Territown (which will come out once a month, with all the goodies I listed above), and a regular email list (which will just have tour dates and come out four times a year at most. GoatNotes will not be included. Neither will last minute shows booked).

To be in "Club Territown" email me here at our office:
terri@terrihendrix.com

Saving the Cactus Cafe
www.savethecactuscafe.org

On Saturday, Feb. 13, I will be playing my annual birthday/Valentine s show at the Cactus Cafe, located on the campus of the University of Texas at Austin. As many of you might have heard by now, the Cactus one of the best acoustic venues in the country could literally be history come August due to a decision by UT administrators and students on the Texas Union Board of Directors committee. It seems they were asked to make budget cuts, and voted to cut the Cactus because, as VP of Student Affairs Juan Gonzalez put it, Running and operating a bar and venue for local artists falls below the line of what the union ought to be doing. Clearly, anyone who thinks that s all the 30-year-old Cactus Café is, must be completely uneducated about the historical significance of the room.

The Cactus Cafe is not just a bar. It is a landmark of Texas music and music, period. This is the "Ark" of Texas. This is the "Freight and Salvage" of Texas. This venue is one of the greats promoting our next generation of singers and writers from the Lone Star State by giving them a stage in which to perform and it s a favorite place for lots of major non locals and out-of-state artists to play, too. Put it this way: In 2003, when Griff who s been the manager of the Cactus for almost the entire time it s been open added my poster to The Wall, I was so happy, I cried. And with only very few exceptions now and then, the Cactus Cafe is the only venue I still play in Austin.

Judging from the public uproar since this news hit, I' m certainly not the only artist and music lover who knows how important and special the Cactus Cafe is. And even if you don' t live in or around Austin, if you' re a music lover, this affects you, too. Venues like the Cactus share the same root system. Artists like me need places like this in order to play for fans like you. Cut the throat of the venue, and you cut the lifeblood of every artist that plays there.

I for one, am in this fight to the finish.
****************************************

1. sign up on facebook group page:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=279890327101

2. Sign the petition on www.savethecactuscafe.com
and sign up for regular updates!

3. Most important: WRITE. "THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD".
References to the football team won't help, so we are told.

UT Administrators:
President William Powers
President's Office
PO Box T
Austin, TX 78713
Phone (512) 471-1232
Fax (512) 471-8102
president@po.utexas.edu

Juan C. Gonzalez
Vice President of Student Affairs
The University of Texas at Austin
PO Box 7699
Austin, TX 78713
phone (512) 471-1133
fax (512) 471-5558
juan.gonzalez@austin.utexas.edu

Andy Smith, Jr.
Executive Director of University Unions
The University of Austin
PO Box 7338
Austin, TX 78713
phone (512) 475-6608
fax (512) 475-6599
PO Box 7338
Austin, TX 78713-7338
andy.smith@universityunions.utexas.edu

Dave Puntch (Long term and direct supervisor of Cactus management during decision process)
Director of Texas Union
davep@universityunions.utexas.edu
Phone (512) 232-4642
Fax (512) 475-6599
PO Box 7338
Austin, TX 78713-7338

Members of the Texas Union Board who made the recommendation: Many of these students are elected or appointed by elected student government reps.

Texas Union Board
PO Box 7338
Austin, TX 78713-7338
Phone 512-475-6600
Fax 512-475-6599

Mr. Basil Awad-Chair
basil.awad@bba06.mccombs.utexas.edu

Mr. Liam O'Rourke
Student Body President
orourke.liam@gmail.com

Mr. Nathan Bunch
nathanbunch@gmail.com

Nicole Falkenberg
nicolef@mail.utexas.edu

Alyssa Flores
aflores90@gmail.com

Andrew Nash
nash1407@gmail.com

Dr. Soncia Reagins-Lilly
Senior Associate Vice President and Dean of Students
soncia.r.lilly@austin.utexas.edu
(512) 471-5017

Dr. Jerome Williams
jerome.williams@mail.utexas.edu
512-471-7302

Dr. Thomas Garza
tjgarza@mail.utexas.edu
512-471-3607

According to UT's Handbook of operating procedures the Board of Directors of the Texas Union is limited in the making these types of decisions WITHOUT the final approval of the PRESIDENT AND Board of Regents.

Regents Contact Info
Chairman James R. Huffines
Chairman, Central and South Texas
Plans Capital Bank
919 Congress Avenue, Suite 600
Austin, TX 78701
(512) 457-7503
Fax: (512) 457-7524
bor@utsystem.edu

Vice Chairman Colleen McHugh
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall Suite 820
201 West Seventh Street
Austin, TX 78701-2981
Phone(512) 499-4402
Fax (512) 499-4225
bor@utsystem.edu

Vice Chairman Paul Foster
Western Refining Company
123 West Mills, Suite 200
El Paso, TX 79901
(915) 534-1505
fax (915) 534-2652

Regent James D. Dannenbaum, P.E.
Dannenbaum Enginnering Corporation
3100 West Alabamna
Houston, TX 77098
phone (713) 527-6341
fax (713) 527-6404

Regent Printice L. Gary
Carelton Residential Properties
5484 Belt Line Road, Suite 300
Dallas, TX 75254
(972) 980-9810 ext 102
Fax(972) 980-1559

Regent R. Steven Hicks
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall, Suite 820
201 West Seventh Street
Austin, TX 78701-2981
(512) 499-4402
Fax (512) 499-4425

Regent Janiece Longoria
Ogden, Gibson, Broocks, and Longoria, LLP
1900 Penzoil South Tower
711 Louisiana
Houston, TX 77002
(713) 844-3046
fax (713) 844-3030

Regent Wm. Eugene "Gene" Powell
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall Suite 820
201 W. Seventh Stureet
Austin, TX 78701-2981
(512) 499-4402
Fax (512) 499-4425

Regent Robert L. Stillwell
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall Suite 820
201 West Seventh Street
Austin, TX 78701-2981
512-499-4402
fax512-499-4425

Student Regent Karim A Meijer
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall, Suite 820
201 West Seventh Street
Austin, TX 78701-
512-499-4402
Fax 512-449-4425

Francie A. Frederick
General Counsel to the Board of Regents
The University of Texas System
Ashbel Smith Hall, Suite 820
201 west Seventh Street
Austin, TX 78701-
512-499-4402
fax 512-499-4425
ffrederick@utsystem.edu

Happy Holidays

2009-12-09T21:07:00.000-08:00

House of Rock - Corpus

2009-12-09T17:25:00.000-08:00

Casey, my friend from the Executive Surf Club, bought this old building and is turning a hard core rock club into an eclectic venue. Hanging from the ceiling, are his very own handcrafted lights made out of guitars and drum heads. Talk about a good guy. I've worked with him for years and years. We had a blast here. the sound was good. My friends showed up. It was a perfect night. If you go to Corpus you have to stop in and see him. It's on 511 Starr Street. Tell him I said hello.

Rev. Fred hosted the night. He was pretty amazing. His voice and songs. How many artist's will I hear in my lifetime that are this great and don't have a recording of themselves. It haunts me friends. This guy was fantastic.

Well, that's it. I gotta feed the dogs. Sorry about the typos. I ain't gonna spell check. Tkahns rof yer supert.

Happy Holidays,

Terri

Urban Campfires December 4th and 5th

2009-12-09T17:13:00.001-08:00

Working with Janet from this organization was a blast. And the volunteers were real sweet too. We raised much needed donations for the food bank and it was a success. I'm pictured with Z-Man and his Momma. Lloyd and myself are smitten with this kiddo. He made our night.

We did two nights and they were both a blast. The Lions Field Activity Center in San Antonio is a cool building. They run some great activities there. This weekend they'll have the Uke jam. I'm thinking noise won't be an issue with the Ukes (smile).

Oh, I gotta add that Saturday night we ate at the Pig Stand. It's a funky old diner with a fantastic reputation. I'm not sure if eating so much was a great idea right before showtime, but I'd always wanted to eat there and it was a less than a mile from where we played! You see it was a goal. I'm certain a New Year's resolution will be to return.

Recording, The Studio, My Dad, Side Effects

2009-12-09T16:46:00.001-08:00

This month has been something of a blur. We started the month out in the studio, at a place called The Zone. It's located on the outskirts of Dripping Springs. The people that work there are easy going and relaxed. When I'm in an atmosphere like that, it's best for me to get the tracks I want down. I've been writing this record in my head for many many months now. I can't play the songs live just yet, but I'm looking forward to being able to do so. I have most of January off to wrap this record up and get the songs under my skin so to speak in a live setting.

My Dad had surgery on the 3rd where his shoulder was put back together. Several months ago, he knocked it all out of whack when he decided to go on a jog at let's say ... 10:30 in the evening. He promptly proceeded to trip and fall due to a pot hole. He then drove himself to the emergency room where they admitted him and put his shoulder back in place. They wanted to keep him. He snuck out of Brook Army Medical Center and drove himself home. Anyway, the surgery Thursday was a success. And there was no escaping this time. He had a driver! As for the metal and bullets that are still lodged in his shoulder from Vietnam? My Dad says, "He-eeeeelllll, they been in there since 'Nam and I see no problem with'em stayin' right where they are." Bullets and all, closin' in on 80 ... he's better. I can't type this without smiling.

Speak of the medical maladies ... enjoy this ...

Side Effects

By Steve Martin

DOSAGE: take two tablets every six hours for joint pain.

SIDE EFFECTS: This drug may cause joint pain, nausea, head-ache, or shortness of breath. You may also experience muscle aches, rapid heartbeat, and ringing in the ears. If you feel faint, call your doctor. Do not consume alcohol while taking this pill; likewise, avoid red meat, shellfish, and vegetables. O.K. foods: flounder. Under no circumstances eat yak. Men can expect painful urination while sitting, especially if the penis is caught between the toilet seat and the bowl. Projectile vomiting is common in thirty per cent of users-sorry, fifty per cent. If you undergo disorienting nausea accompanied by migraine and raspy breathing, double the dosage. Leg cramps are to be expected; one knee-buckler per day is normal. Bowel movements may become frequent-in fact, every ten minutes. If bowel movements become greater than twelve per hour, consult your doctor, or any doctor, or just anyone who will speak to you. You may find yourself becoming lost or vague; this would be a good time to write a screenplay. Do not pilot a plane, unless you are among the ten per cent of users who experience "spontaneous test-pilot knowledge." If your hair begins to smell like burning tires, move away from any buildings or populated areas, and apply tincture of iodine to the head until you no longer hear what could be taken for a "countdown." May cause stigmata in Mexicans. If a fungus starts to grow between your eyebrows, call the Guinness Book of World Records. May induce a tendency to compulsively repeat the phrase "no can do." This drug may cause visions of the Virgin Mary to appear in treetops. If this happens, open a souvenir shop. There may be an overwhelming impulse to shout out during a Catholic Mass, "I'm gonna w*p you wid da ugly stick!" You may feel a powerful sense of impending doom; this is because you are about to die. Men may experience impotence, but only during intercourse. Otherwise, a powerful erection will accompany your daily "walking-around time." Do not take this product if you are uneasy with lockjaw. Do not be near a ringing telephone that works at 900 MHz or you will be very dead, very fast. We are assuming you have had chicken pox. You also may experience a growing dissatisfaction with life along with a deep sense of melancholy-join the club! Do not be concerned if you arouse a few ticks from a Geiger counter. You might want to get a one-month trial subscription to Extreme Fighting. The hook shape of the pill will often cause it to become caught in the larynx. To remove, jam a finger down your throat while a friend holds your nose to prevent the pill from lodging in a nasal passage. Then throw yourself stomach first on the back portion of a chair. The expulsion of air should eject the pill out of the mouth, unless it goes into a sinus cavity, or the brain. WARNING: This drug may shorten your intestines by twenty-one feet. Has been known to cause birth defects in the user retroactively. Passing in front of TV may cause the screen to moiré. Women often feel a loss of libido, including a whole octave lowering of the voice, an increase in ankle hair, and perhaps the lowering of a testicle. If this happens, women should write a detailed description of their last three sexual encounters and mail it to me, Bob, Trailer Six, Fancyland Trailer Park, Encino, CA. Or E-mail me at hot-guy.com. Discontinue use immediately if you feel that your teeth are receiving radio broadcasts. You may experience "lumpy back" syndrome, but we are actively seeking a cure. Bloated fingertips on the heart-side hand are common. When finished with the dosage, be sure to allow plenty of "quiet time" in order to retrain the eye to move off stationary objects. Flotation devices at sea will become pointless, as the user of this drug will develop a stone-like body density; therefore, if thrown overboard, contact your doctor. (This product may contain one or more of the following: bungee cord, plankton, rubber, crack cocaine, pork bladders, aromatic oils, gunpowder, corn husk, glue, bee pollen, dung, English muffin, poached eggs, ham, Hollandaise sauce, crushed saxophone reeds.) Sensations of levitation are illusory, as is the sensation of having a "phantom" third arm. Users may experience certain inversions of language. Acceptable: "Hi, are how you?" Unacceptable: "The rain in Sprain slays blainly on the phsssst." Twenty minutes after taking the pills, you will feel an insatiable craving to take another dose. AVOID THIS WITH ALL YOUR POWER. It is advisable to have a friend handcuff you to a large kitchen appliance, ESPECIALLY ONE THAT WILL NOT FIT THROUGH THE DOORWAY TO WHERE THE PILLS ARE. You should also be out of reach of any weapon-like utensil with which you could threaten friends or family, who should also be briefed to not give you the pills, no matter how much you sweet-talk them.

* From The New Yorker, April 13, 1998.

December 2009 GoatNotes

2009-12-01T13:02:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is a repeat. We've been in the studio and it's been occupying all my time. I hope you enjoy this!
************************************************
Hendrix December 09 GoatNotes

"But this boy, he's the real poet, because when he tries to put on paper what he's seen with his heart, he will believe deep down there are no good words for it, no words can do it, and at that moment he will have begun to write poetry."
- Cynthia Rylant

View her entire piece at www.terrihendrix.com/poetry.html

************************************************

As a kid, I was always the first one up on Christmas morning. With the lights from the Christmas tree illuminating a path through the dark, I'd gingerly make my way towards my brother and sister's stockings, reach inside them, and steal most of their chocolate candy. I'd eat some right then and there, and stash the rest in my own stocking — after taking the candy I *didn't* like out of it and "regifting" it into my brother and sister's stockings. When finished, I'd fluff their stockings back up, making sure they were in the exact place on their hooks in which I'd found them. Having grown full from all the sweets, I'd burp (quietly!), make my way back to my room, hide a few chocolates under my pillow, and then go back to sleep.

It's really no surprise, then, that the first guitar I ever "owned" was in fact one that I stole from my sister, shortly after Christmas. I "borrowed" it, with green ribbon still tied around the handle of its shiny new case, from underneath her bed. Soon after, I was immersed in a Mel Bay songbook (found in her case), with the verses and guitar chords to tunes like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and "Skip to My Lou." My father soon joined in on the fun, and we'd howl through the chorus of "Little Brown Jug" with me hacking away at the chords. A few months later, at the age of 8 and after mastering the morbid classic "Tom Dooley," I played my first bar — well, barre chord, that is. As my fingers tried to strrrrrrretch into the F position, I created a shortcut instead (to spare the life of my index finger), and within another month turned myself into a three-chord wonder.

A few years later, I discovered it was easier to make up my own songs than remember the words to Willie Nelson's "Crazy" or John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane." And that's how I ventured into songwriting. I'd take their guitar chords and substitute my words for theirs. My newfound "original" music sounded like theirs, but with our family dog Tiger as my sole audience, who was gonna notice? I dubbed my first self-perceived masterpiece "Bob-tailed Cat." There was an episode with a gun in it. That song raised eyebrows, but what really got the ol' family fired up was "Female Dog," which I wrote in my sister's honor. Upon its discovery, I soon found my lips wrapped around a bar of soap, my mother standing over me with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

After that — my first bad review — I quit writing songs that could easily be found by others. With one arm draped protectively over my work, I began writing my musings down on multiple slips of paper. And then I stopped writing anything at all. Perhaps it was the insecurity of adolescence that did it, or the lack of an original melody, but that sudden beam of creativity which had turned my imagination to liquid and made words seem to pour out of my mind like a waterfall ... it went off like a light. In the dark, the words drew to a trickle and then to a complete stop. Having worn my eraser to a nub on the final lyrics of a chorus, one afternoon I cleaned up my wads of paper, closed my mind and my guitar case, and for the most part, wouldn't open either again until I was in my early 20s.

I was doing absolutely nothing when the creative juices started flowing again. In retrospect, maybe that's why they did. I'd become too busy to write. I began to edit myself, and before long, I no longer made the time to agonize over the rhyme. The child-like wonder of the whole process had been replaced with ... self-doubt.

When I'm involved in teaching a creative workshop, I often encounter other folks who wonder if their songs are any good, or who worry about how their songs compare with other people's songs. Sometimes they're just plain stuck. I remind them that every writer I've ever known that was brave enough to pick up a pen and/or a guitar has felt the same way. Writing takes practice, and whatever we bring to the table is unique unto us, but every writer at some point wrestles with self-doubt. And it's self-doubt (and over-confidence, too) that seeds the weeds that prevent songs from ever reaching sunshine. For me, I've found that the best way to cut through those weeds and find my way back to the light is to quit worrying about writing as an adult and approach it like I did as a kid, perched over my sister's guitar with stolen chocolate on my fingertips.

When you write like a kid, there's always something new to discover. There are ideas for songs everywhere. When I catch one, I call my cell phone and leave myself a message so I don't forget. To this day, largely due to the "Female Dog" incident of my childhood, I can't write an entire song on just one sheet of paper, so I don't even try. I write my thoughts on Post It's, napkins, airline barfbags (really), and if in a crunch, toilet paper. But I never throw any of my lyrics away, even if they don't seem any good at the time. If I get hung up on a line, I put parenthesis around it and move on. And on the days when I can't think of a melody, I still write to someone else's music. Upon the song's completion, I'll revisit the melody and come up with my own chords. They're all shortcuts that help me finish a song, just like the shortcuts I came up with as a kid when I was learning to make an F chord.

Sometimes songs get stuck (or I get stuck in songs) not for lack of creativity or other mental blocks, but simply because the songs aren't ready to be songs yet. Sometimes songs sit unfinished for years. But if a song's *meant* to be a song, sooner or later (sometimes *much* later), it all falls into place. Within time, whatever kinks there may be (like lines not folding within the measures correctly) turn the sand within the oyster into a pearl, or ... an appetizer for what's to come. I often round up my most stubborn unfinished tunes and marry them to each other. I make them live together for awhile, and if they get along, vows are exchanged. Sometimes the union produces kids, and that's when I'll get a theme for a record started.

As for subject matter, for me, I like M&M's with my popcorn. It's a mixture of the Yin and Yang, light and dark, bitter (or salty) and sweet — and anything that reads well, speaks personal truth, or that could be framed within a portrait that makes a song speak to me.

"Is there magic to it?" I've been asked. I guess the answer would be yes. It's a lot like the holidays. Songs wave hello and good-bye like the season. They come as gifts and open up our hearts to see things we only felt in our souls. Some twinkle like Christmas lights. Some ring out like carols for all to sing along too. And yes, some stink up the house like burnt sugar cookies, or are received with as much enthusiasm as socks or fruitcakes. But the wonder of it all is that there's an endless supply of them, waiting in each of our hearts to be written.

Happy Trails,
Terri Hendrix

(C)(P) THM Music December 2005

www.terrihendrix.com
Terri Hendrix
Wilory Records
PO BOX 2340
San Marcos, TX 78667
phone 512-353-2536

Subscribe to once a month GoatNotes
www.terrihendrix.com

Best Buddies

2009-11-30T13:07:00.000-08:00

There's so much I want to say about the past few months, that I don't know where to begin. Let's just say that I'm truly thankful for the opportunity to play music for my living. It enables me to meet folks I would have never had met otherwise. People like Chelle and Rich at Courville's in Beumont, Texas, who solely put on shows for their own personal love of sharing music they like with friends in their community. And they are beloved for it, as well as for the fact that they contribute to every local charity within reach of their catering business. When I reflect upon the folks I've had chance to work with, there's been a common thread as of late: Community.

The second oldest family run business in America, is Community Coffee located on the banks of the river in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I'm known by my friends as being something of a coffee snob, and let's just say after a tour of their factory, which included a tasting, I'm hooked. Not only to they put the "Wind" back in "Up," they also contribute to charities as well. I'm pictured with Ray Cate, at Community Coffee (in front of the sign reading "Welcome Teppi Henpix") (smile), who along with Martin Flannagan and the Red Dragon, helped host a benefit for "Best Buddies," right there in Baton Rouge at the Manship. Best Buddies is one of the largest non-profits that enables those with intellectual disabilities to get jobs in the cities in which they live.

Continuing with family and community, I have to mention as well that I had the opportunity to tour Arnosky Family Farms in Blanco, Texas (www.texascolor.com). They run a sustainable family farm that services the freshest cut flowers to local stores throughout central Texas. They are in the midst of their busy season right now, and I snapped a photo of their beautiful poinsettias so you could catch a glimpse of just how hard they work at their blue barn and beyond.

Seeing the Arnosky Family Farm humbled me as I know how hard we've been working here on my little four by four square foot garden. I say "we," as it has indeed been a "community" effort to actually get it to yield organic vegetables this year. Perhaps using the term vegetable in the plural is a little exuberant seeming that to date I've had one salad, one banana pepper, and one tomato from "Tomato Dave." But the collards? I've had more than my share and they have grown so big, I could hang a swing from them. I planted them because they were available, not because I was fond of them. And now, I like them. Especially because we grew them.

There is something about community and a network beyond the Internet. It takes many hands to plants seeds in our lives and hearts for a better tomorrow. Albert Einstein said, "There are two ways to look at life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is." It's through seeing folks interact at our shows as well as within their community that I've been able to fully realize the truth in this quote ... just in time for the holiday season.

Warmest Regards ... your friend in music, Terri

P.S. Thanks as well to Sycamore Creek Folks (Thomas on mandolin) and Rawhide Folks too (Lina on fiddle).

11/28/09 "Spinning Off"

2009-11-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

Making fun out of a mistake ...

The Beginning - By Terri Hendrix (Life's a Song 09)

2009-11-21T18:45:00.000-08:00

Mark Twain Says

2009-10-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do.
So throw off the bowlines
Sail away from the harbor
Catch the trade winds in your sails
Explore ...
Dream ..
Discover...
- Mark Twain

Not performing at ACL - Terri Hendrix

2009-09-29T12:03:00.000-07:00

Hi there friends, for a variety of reasons we will not be performing at Austin City Limits Festival this weekend. We have the date rescheduled for 2010. I am sorry about the cancellation. I am indeed well on my way towards being 100% ... this decision was based on the fact that I'm "almost there," but not quite ready for this huge event, as I just started working again last weekend. Also, one of our band mates had to cancel due to a family emergency. We felt that given these circumstances, it was best to sit this one out. Thanks for your patience and support.

Terri Hendrix

In the Studio: Tempo - "Roll On"

2009-09-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

Hope you enjoy this ... we have been in the studio ... it's dog-gone time we started on a new record! I know, I talked and talked about it being a jazz record. It's not going to be a jazz record, (as you can tell by the music in the video). It's going to be all kinds of music. Jazz included!

Best wishes and thanks for your continued support. I appreciate you!

Terri

P.S. This is the most current version of this video. It's a rough studio mix from Monday the 21st I'll be putting the vocals down later. The song's called "Roll On."

8/16/09 Song for Emma

2009-08-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Miss Emma,

I am so sorry to have missed you in CO and WY ... you are a great artist and I loved the letter you wrote me and the drawings. This was very nice of you!

I liked it so much in fact, that I decided to play your favorite song and dedicate it to you. Forgive my appearance as I did this spur of the moment! Guess what? The first song played on my new guitar (named Sophie B.A. Collings), for anyone other than my mutts, is for you!

Your friend in Texas, Terri Hendrix

(P.S. Tell your folks hi for me ... and keep drawing!)

Calendar changes - Take note please

2009-07-21T13:06:00.000-07:00

I had to make changes for some August and September dates. Thanks for your support.

With Respect ... your friend in music, Terri

Calendar Updates and Explanation to Changes

2009-06-10T19:57:00.000-07:00

Important Info

Boundin' and Reboundin'
Calendar Dates (See Schedule For Changes)
Boundin'

Boundin' and Reboundin'

Dear friends,

I've had to make changes to my calendar quite a few times these past several months. This has been in part because of my mother's health and in part because of my own. We both have a seizure disorder.

I've been dealing with Epilepsy my whole life, and for the most part have been able to manage it holistically. This involved everything from meditation to probiotics, acupuncture, yoga, and diet. I've poured so much time into research, I feel like I should practically have my own medical degree by now - in both Western and Eastern medicine. But despite all my studying, unless you have Epilepsy, I still don't think I can fully explain how difficult it can be to manage this condition. There are more misconceptions about Epilepsy than I can possibly list. For starters, it's not a disease. It's also not something that can be "fixed" with just a snap of the fingers, breathing exercises, and lots of rest. Believe me when I say that I'm well rested. Sure, there are things that can trigger seizures but more often than not, in my case, my problems in regards to my seizures have been hormones and genetics. Trust me, if maintaining my health was as simple an issue as pulling off the road to teach and relax on my porch, I would have saved myself the thousands and thousands of dollars I've poured into getting well and just retired from performing a long time ago. Honestly, it's not that simple, and I feel that my purpose is still doing exactly what I've been doing for the past 19 years. And that's making music, hopefully creating positive energy, and perhaps being part of a soundtrack to your life.

So, this brings me 'round to why I'm divulging this information to you. I'm having the time of my life right now making music - so much, in fact, that due to our schedule, I felt it wisest to return to medication after years of trying the au natural approach. My rush back into the world of pharmaceuticals was further expedited after a seizure my mother had last November permanently damaged her brain. Although returning to medication was something I felt I had to do, for my own future, the fact remains that I've never handled medicine well, and this year's been no exception. It has not affected my shows, but this past month, it has been a challenge for me. After a series of doctor visits and changing of medication, I rebounded. I was feeling fairly good until recently. My worries were compounded after I spoke with my doctor yesterday, who issued me orders not to travel via airplane and to cancel shows until we have time to get my medication adjusted. I also have to undergo further testing, with the goal being that eventually the medicine combined with my holistic lifestyle will work for me, and not against me - so that even if I have a seizure in the future, its severity should be less intense, thus enabling me to enjoy the quality of life I'm used to living.

I beg you not worry, as I'll be just fine. I view myself as handicap-able and not handicapped. There are blank pages I've yet to fill with lyrics, chords I've yet to learn, melodies I've yet to sing, shows I've yet to play, and - most motivating of all - new friends I've yet to meet, people whose lives I can perhaps positively impact by sharing my music and story. Thinking about all these things, I can happily say that I've never been more inspired and driven to create and "bound." So please hang with me as I "get my goat on."

Your friend in music, Terri Hendrix
Read on...

Calendar Dates (See Schedule For Changes)

This weekend, the following artist's are taking my place at these venues. Both of these artist's are fantastic and both of these venues have a wonderful atmosphere coupled with delicious food.
SAT. June 13th Kyle Hutton @ Dosey Doe, Houston, TX
SUN. June 14th Seth James @ River Pub, San Marcos, TX

As of now, these shows are on, but my calendar for June and July have been altered. I hope to pick things back up in August and my calendar will be updated accordingly.

Shows listed below, and shows that are still on my calendar, are still on and include,

FRI. Jun 26th @ 8:00 PM
Uncle Calvin's Coffeehouse, Dallas, TX
www.unclecalvins.org
Northpark Presbyterian Church, 955 N. Central Expressway
214-363-0044

SAT. Jun 27th @ 7:00 PM
Kios Concerts, Edmond, OK
405-285-5995 or 405-833-7781
kiousconcerts@cox.net
myspace.com/kiousconcerts

THUR. Jul 9th @ 7:30 PM
San Marcos Performing Arts W/Band
San Marcos, TX
Summer in the Park San Marcos Plaza
Free Series: W/Band 512-393-8400 Corner of Hopkins and CM Allen Blvd. (401 E. Hopkins)
Double Check Dates Here

Boundin'

"Boundin'"
By Bud Luckey
(From the animated short "Boundin'," as featured in the Pixar movie "The Incredibles")

Here's a story on how strange is life with its changes and it happened not long ago. On a high mountain plain, where the sagebrush arranges a playground south of the snow, lived a lamb with a coat of remarkable sheen. It would glint in the sunlight all sparkly and clean, such a source of great pride that it caused him to preen.

And he'd break out in a high steppin' dance. He would dance for his neighbors across the way. I must say that they found his dancin' enhancin', for they'd also join in the play.

Then one day, a-boundin' up the slope came a great American jackalope. This sage of the sage, this rare hare of hope, caused to pause and check out the lamb. "Hey kid, why the mope?"

"I used to be something all covered with fluff, and I'd dance in the sunlight and show off my stuff. Then they hauled me away in a manner quite rough and sheared me and dropped me back here in the buff. And if that's not enough, now my friends all laugh at me, cause they think I look ridiculous, funny and pink."

"Pink? Pink? Well, what's wrong with pink? Seems you've got a pink kink in your think. Does it matter what color? Well, that gets nope, be it pink, purple or heliotrope. Now sometimes you're up and sometimes you're down. When you find that you're down, well just look around: You still got a body, good legs and fine feet, Get your head in the right place and hey, you're complete!

"Now as for the dancin', you can do more, you can reach great heights, in fact you can soar. You just get a leg up and ya slap it on down, and you'll find you're up in what's called a bound.

Bound, bound, and rebound.
Bound and you're up, right next to the sky,
and I think you can do it if you give it a try.
First get a leg up, slap it on down"

So every year, along about May, they'd load him up and they'd haul him away. And they'd shave him and dump him all naked and bare. He learned to live with it, he didn't care. He'd just bound, bound, bound, and rebound.

Now in this world of ups and downs,
So nice to know there are jackalopes around.

June 6th - Private Party for HAAM

2009-06-10T19:56:00.003-07:00

Coming soon ...

June 5th - Mansfield Arts Festival

2009-06-10T19:56:00.001-07:00

Coming soon ...

May 28th - 31st Teaching @ Kerrville Song School and Playing @ Kerrville Folk Festival

2009-06-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

Coming soon ...

Cool Stuff

2009-06-04T16:41:00.001-07:00

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio
"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written."

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy li ngerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come.

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44. Yield.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

Tomato "Dave" ...

2009-05-25T11:37:00.000-07:00

I was watering Dave and cleaning his leaves when I felt something in the palm of my hand. I screamed with delight. He only has one, but ain't it pretty?

5/20/09 to 5/22/09 Indigo Girls

2009-05-25T10:45:00.000-07:00

There's just no way to explain how wonderful this opportunity was. These women, including their bandmate Julie Wolf and guitar tech Sulli, were true gracious professionals. I was so sad when it was over, I cried. There's something truly magical about their music and their shows. I will be writing a GoatNotes about it. I'm still frankly in shock. They've been my favorite band for twenty years. Their new record, "Poseidon and the Bitter Bug" is an amazing collection of both acoustic and band versions of their songs. Their musicianship is over the top. And to get the opportunity to have a glimpse at the depth and warmth of the people behind the music was a beautiful experience. They had Lloyd join in on a few songs and I joined in on harmony and harmonica (yes, in the right key ... smile) (see below).

On a side note, I need to add this because it's just the way things happen sometimes when you perform. We were at the Verizon Theater, in Houston. During my opening set, I felt like I was in the zone. Performing for crowds that large and adjusting technical things on my end took some doing. So, by show three, I was more comfortable. For example, I needed to set my monitors where it pulled my skin off my face as the sound changed that much from sound check to show time. Once that many people pack into a place the sonic dynamics change considerably. In spite of this though, I was having a hard time hearing my harmonica. If I got too close to the mic, it squealed. If I got to far back, it did not pick up. Anyway, as I said, I was in the "zone" feeling good about the show. At ease. Someone from the audience shouted out "It's a Given," Terri play it!" I chuckled to myself and answered, "I told you to wait in the truck." The audience erupted in laughter. I was feeling all cocky then. I grinned. Self assured, we readied ourselves for the closing of our set. I threw on my harp, and we launched into Woody Guthrie's "Pastures of Plenty." I hit the harp driven solo with guns blazin'. I looked out in the audience and saw that the entire front row had their heads cocked sideways. I looked to my left and saw that Lloyd was giving me "the look" as only he can give me. My heart raced. I knew that SOMETHING was wrong. I just did not know what. The song continued. We neared the end. Here it came again. Harmonica solo. I was off, ripping through it, I was gonna shred it that time. I opened one eye and saw that one lady on the front row was actually covering her ears. I glanced to my left and saw that Lloyd was accompanying me but with a concerned look on his face. SOMETHING was wrong but I just did not know what. I could not totally hear the harmonica through my monitors, but what little I heard, I knew it was ... off. After the song, I looked down and saw my A minor harmonica glistening on my tray attached to my mic stand. I looked inside my holder. Although I carefully mark my harps to avoid accidents, somehow I had used the wrong harmonica on that song! I had played it with my damn D harp. And I had played cross harp as well! For those of you that don't play harmonica, let's just say that's like playing football with a hockey puck. Normally, this would have kept me in tears for a couple of days. For sure, it made me mess up on my next song too as I was pretty mortified, but I still made it through my set. I did not do as good as I wished I had, but it's not for lack of trying. I did my best, and well ... I goofed. I fumbled. In front of several thousand people. And it's okay. Like I said I'd rather be out there on the field of life taking hits and making touchdowns than bitching about the game (or covering my ears) in the bleachers.

Happy Trails,

Terri

5/14/09 - 5/16/09 Jammin Java and Spring Gulch Festival

2009-05-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

The one purchase I've made this year, that has already payed for itself ten-fold, is my Tom-Tom, a GPS system that gets me to and from my destinations. After staying lost in MA last month, I vowed to Lloyd I wouldn't be leaving Texas again without a GPS, and I was true to my word. No more simultaneous navigating by way of iphone and Mapquest. If it's one thing that insured a rough trip, it was total lack of a sense of direction. As my friend Cathy says, "Terri, you should turn the opposite direction of which way you think you need to turn, because you ALWAYS turn the wrong way."

I picked a soft, calm, female voice programmed as "Samantha" in my GPS. The girl got us from the airport to our hotel and to the venue in a blink. With NO mess ups. I was thrilled. I did my nails, drank coffee, fiddled with my ipod, and she did all the work in getting us to the gig. Lloyd drove, but even he could relax a little. Life was good.

Jammin Java was fun. It's a premier listening room on the East Coast. After the show we headed towards the Amish country, located in the heart of the Pennsylvania countryside.

I know you are not supposed to take pictures of the Amish. And I had to sit on my hands to refrain from doing it. There's something about seeing an entire family in a horse drawn buggy that is so appealing you want to capture it to look back on it as proof that you indeed saw what you saw when you saw it. Their farms were perfectly manicured with clothes drying on lines high up in the air from one side of the house to the other. Their children looked like something out of a fairy tale with their rosy cheeks and wide smiles. You'd see the young boys playing baseball with the young girls who though in skirts, seemed to be winning the game. Most of the kids pushed themselves along the side streets on scooters with little baskets attached on the the front carrying odds and ends. The entire area smelled like fresh cut grass.

I know that this area in Pennsylvania is not only famous for the Amish, but for the quirky names of their towns. With names like "Intercourse," "Blue Ball," Virginville," and "Bird-In-Hand," well you can see why. I'm sorry, but I about doubled over with laughter when I saw the, ahem, "Intercourse Pretzel Factory."

I did a little shopping in the downtown area of Intercourse ... and lucked into a shop that made handcrafted wooden signs. I've been wanting a Wilory Records sign for years, and I finally had one made. I was excited and clapping my hands while it was being made. For a fact, I totally annoyed my sign maker. Look at his face (pictured). After I got my sign made I rolled in the grass and kissed the earth.

I headed back to the hotel early so I could catch up on the kids songs as I had a kids show to perform at the Spring Gulch festival the next day. I also had to change strings in preparation for our regular show as well. We had a good time as the festival. There were many musical highlights.

We headed home Sunday and I tried to catch up in the office, but I just could not. I had to sleep. Happy trails,

Terri

5/09/09 Bugle Boy, La Grange

2009-05-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Lane, owner of the Bugle Boy, in La Grange, has turned her state of the art performance center into a non-profit. The night we played, they were "official," having received their paperwork with all their credentials back in the mail. She was glowing with excitement. She has busted some serious tail to turn her dream into a reality. I know many of you who read this, are no where near Texas, but if you are in Texas, and looking to find new roots music and/or a place to visit should you venture to Texas, you gotta check out the Bugle Boy.

The night we played there, Lane showed me her eco-car (pictured), a solar powered "truck" she had specially built. I really wanted her to take me for a spin around La Grange, but we were running short on time. So, I ran inside and did sound check and before long ... Lloyd and myself were hitting the stage and the downbeat of our first song.

Happy Trails, Terri

How to NOT run a record label by Terri Hendrix

2009-05-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

Truth be told, I don't really have business sense. I started and continue to run my own label out of being too stubborn to bend and too diverse to change. I also have a good work ethic. Or I did, till a little thing called life happened. All at once. So, I took some photos for you. It's kind of funny ... but due to these photos and the fact that postage is going up, my postal list is past the point of making me postal. I'm doing a mandatory intervention and am officially deleting it. It's eco-friendly, less expensive, and easier on me (and the folks that help me here) to send out GoatNotes. I'm thinking it's a good thing. Change is good. Saving a few trees in the process, even better.

Dave, as a Child

2009-05-07T20:13:00.000-07:00

As a child ... (see teenage funk below)

5/07/09

2009-05-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we played Dan's in Denton on Friday. Dan Mojica is one of a kind. I like him and his venue so very much. It's the little things that a concert promoter does that make our lives easier. For example, when we pulled up, Dan was there to greet us and move an orange cone out of the way to park so we could load in easier. There's just two of us, but we carry four guitars, a dobro, a mandolin, a papoose, two peddle boards, two backpacks, two clothes bags, and a merchandise bucket. So, when we have someone block us off parking so we don't have to make repeat hikes to the car, we appreciate it.

The next night, we played for Greg at the Blue Door who's a whole lot like Dan. Beloved in the musical community. Simply cherished. Rhett Butler opened. You have to see him live to appreciate his artistry. He's up there with the best. Look him up on You Tube. It will blow your mind. And here's the kicker, he's a real nice person.

We then ventured deep into the country for Faye and Scott at their Harmony House series in Bonham, Texas. I'm working up a surprise for these folks. I'll tell you at a later date exactly what it is. For now, you can read up on what we did here:

http://www.ntxe-news.com/artman/publish/article_54081.shtml

At the top of this blog I'm showing off my tomato plant, Dave (named after the gentleman working in the garden center at HEB, who said "If you name your 'mater plant and talk to it, it'll growwww!").

Well, it seems he was right, in spite of all the obstacles, this little plant's growing. Which is why, I was startled to discover a few days ago, that Dave has some serious funk on his leaves. So if you can advise some organic way to clean him up, I'd appreciate it.

Thanks for your help in advance. If Dave lives, the garden goes in this July.

Your friend in music, Terri Hendrix

From 4/09/09 to Right Now (I should be asleep)

2009-04-29T00:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have fallen way behind on my blogging. I actually enjoy doing this. It's fun to write about the things I see, places I travel, and what I hear along the way. I must admit though ... I do not enjoy Facebook, Myspace, or Twitter. It's one more thing I have to handle. Really, I have not decided what to do with all this social networking yet. I feel like anything that gets in the way of me being able to find the time to create is not good for me. I understand how it's nifty and all, but for now, rather than "twitter," I'll call.

So it's blog time. Let's see ... we flew home on April 5th, from MA. We then readied ourselves for shows the following weekend.

On Friday, April 10th, we played this cool show with Daniel Makins (check him and his series out here: danielmakins.com). It was held at a funky artsy theater from the 50's in San Angelo. Although my old stomping grounds at the Steel Penny were quite fun, playing this theater was gratifying after well over a decade since my last show in the area. The people were so nice. It's hard to stop playing sometimes. When all the elements are there and the sound is good and the audience is with you. This was one of those nights. And Daniel, he was fantastic. He's beloved in his hometown and respected as well due to his guitar skills and songs. It was a joy to work with him.

On Saturday the 11th we played Casbeers at the Church. It's an old church, in San Antonio, that's been turned into a mexican food restaurant downstairs and a performance area upstairs. It's one of my favorite places to play in Texas. And San Antonio is my hometown, even though I live in San Marcos. It's still my "home." The Karen Wells band joined us on stage for some fun. Man, can she sing!

After Casbeers and before the Arts Fair in San Antonio, I decided to go DIY on my hair and turned it orange by mistake. It was fixed, by my hairdresser who had but one question, "Why?"

I had no good answers. I'm busy and on a budget. Will that suffice? I'd get dreads if I thought I could pull it off. I've always wanted them. Here's a secret, I do not like fixing my hair or spending money on it.

On Sunday the 19th, we played the Fiesta Arts Fair in downtown San Antonio. I was working on new songs all week and different ways to play old songs. I do this from time to time. For instance, I bought a 12 string and it sounds better in an alternate tuning. So, on this show, I played the 12 string and had to work up new arrangements with the tuning I had in mind on a few tunes. It was hard, but it came off okay. The School of Arts and Crafts is classy. The people putting this on are gold. And well, The Swindles ... who played after we did, were GREAT. Oh, and before I forget, I heard LeAnne Atherton play as part of her new group called "Gypsy Heart." It was world music and off the grid good!

On April 25th, we headed towards our show in Baton Rouge for Chris and Liz at the Red Dragon Listening Room. After staying more lost than found in MA, I purchased a Tom Tom and broke it in on this trip. Our voice is "Samantha." She's pretty polite given the fact that she told us which way to go and we did the exact opposite of what we were told. I kept waiting for her to cuss, but she remained in check. So, I did it for her. "Hey dummy, I said LEFT at the LIGHT," I shouted over her voice. When driving to Baton Rouge, one must find ways to occupy time.

Before showtime, after driving for well over an hour in search of dinner, we took our chances and ate at a place called (drumroll please) "The Chicken Shack." It was either that, or starve. I was tired of eating the food we'd brought. I was a cashew away from insanity. I needed something with substance. But after looking at the menu, the only healthy choice was leaving, and I was too hungry for that and besides, the people behind the counter were nice. So, I ordered my food fried (so whatever was on it or in it died). It was pure fat, starch, and oil with ketchup on the side. I thought about a health guru I know who simply insists it's easy to find solid good meals on the road if you try. I thought about her in her tight pink yoga pants slurping down a wheatgrass and probiotic superfood high antioxidant shake. I thought about her some more as I wobbled out of the chicken shack wiping the grease from my mouth on my sleeve. If she traveled anywhere else but to and from yoga, she'd know what us musicians already know ... good eats are hard to find.

We burped our way towards our gig, where I was soon surprised by the "Sister's," who are two of the coolest young artist's I've had the pleasure of meeting in a long time. I was still digesting my "Chicken Shack," when Melanie (the older of the siblings), handed me a painting she had done for me. It read "She Owns Her Own Universe and She Walked Away With the Moon" on the back of it. Pictured, is a woman carrying the moon off through the water. I'm not often surprised, but their kindness and this painting took me aback. This year has been somewhat like riding a mechanical bull, and it was the first time I've been totally stopped in my tracks by something beautiful. These unexpected moments are what I live for. As I was making sure my painting would be safe on stage (I wanted to show it off), Martin Flannigan and his band began to play before our set. By the end of his show, my cheeks were hurting as he had me smiling so much. Then, we played and had a wonderful time. The 12 string sounded like and orchestra and we tried some more new songs out with it. Backstage, the Maxwell's surprised us some more by providing a veggie tray for us. They are some of the most kind and hospitable people in the business. After the show, I thought about sticking the veggies in my back pack, but resisted. It was the last healthy food I laid eyes on (aside from the dead alligator on the road we saw on our way out of town) till I made it home late Sunday night.

Sunday the 26th we played the Houston International Festival. We played it as a trio with Glenn and had a ball. The sound was real good and it was a pretty magical time. They had recreated the 42nd annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival we'd played in DC for the Houston International Festival in Texas. So, we had the chance to see the Tex Maniacs again from San Antonio. I gotta admit, I was way happy I did not have to follow the Jones Family Singers again. I was sad I missed their show though. After we played, we simply had to head home. We used up our tickets on festival food (there's healthy eatin' ... NOT) ... and made our way with Tom Tom in tow towards San Marcos.

We met with Riley today, (keys and arranger) for the jazz record. I have most of the songs picked out or sketched out. I'm thinking we will knock this out in June and July. So, needless to say, I have my work cut out for me. Some of the music is way over my head and it will require lots of woodshedding.

Pictured is me with my "Sister" friends ... they are the cutest (Melanie and Melissa)

Well that's all & happy trails your way too!

Terri

Photos

2009-04-09T15:13:00.001-07:00

From the tour through MA, NH, RI to right now ... 4/09/08

2009-04-09T14:22:00.000-07:00

I just got back from the East Coast. Here's where we played ... and what we did.

The 26th we flew out early in the morning. We lucked into sitting next next to Joshie who at 70 was experiencing her first flight. Lloyd hates to fly and made me privy to her situation. I leaned across Lloyd to get a good look at her. She shot me a look out of one eye and smiled my way. She told us she had 14 grand kids and was heading to a family reunion. I envied her self composure as I wiped the sweat off my brow and readied myself for take off. I peaked at her again when we were in mid air and she gave me another smile. That's when I noticed she had a hint of a gold filling which made her smile all the brighter. Something about her charmed me, and I gave her my cross. You know, the one I keep in my pocket for some "peace of mind." She thanked me and I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. The flight was uneventful except for a little turbulence. As the plane rocked, Joshie clutched her purse, which she held on her lap, even tighter, Lloyd noticed her worry and explained what was happening. She was forever grateful and seemed to relax a little. We all laughed a bit. When we landed, I had my picture taken with her. I wish her and her family well.

After the flight we grabbed our bags and made off like turtles. We found our rent car, which was non-descript but which had a dent in the side the size of a deer. The only car they had left at the rental facility was bright red and gawdy looking. I did not complain. We loaded our stuff and were off, like snails.

We drove, drove, and then drove some more. I got us lost. I cursed my iphone and Mapquest. I ate some weird fried food for dinner. I rented "Slum Dog" ... and cried with joy when it ended happy.

Then Friday we met up at Me and Thee Coffeehouse for a song swap W/Brooks Williams in Marblehead, MA. We got to Eastham early and hung out with "The other Bob," a wonderful radio DJ and fan of all things music. He took us on a hike where I saw some MA cows that had long hair. What worried me was that their hair looked better than mine. Lloyd was just about to bring this up, when "The Other Bob" offered, "You might what to check yourselves for deer ticks when we get back." Fearing all types of diseases, I tried to keep my feet off the ground by hopping in place without anyone noticing.

"The Other Bob" cooked up a dinner for us of pork, mashed potatoes and steamed veggies. It landed good! But, truth be told, I looked for deer ticks while I ate (just joking). I was even looking for ticks at the gig that night (not joking as I mistook a pimple on my neck for a tick) when we hooked up at the First Encounter Coffeehouse/The Chapel in the Pines in Eastham, MA to play with Brooks again. Brooks is a delight. I cracked up when he talked about just how lost he got driving along the East Coast. Could it be a reality? Have I met my geographically challenged counterpart? He's fun and a good person. We can't say enough nice things about him and it will sound trite if I continue, so I'll venture onto what we did come morning. We got lost.

Our rental was a bright red knock-off of a knock-off which made it odd looking to say the least (as I tried to explain earlier). In spite of it being BRIGHT red, I still could not find it in the parking lot at the grocery store. Then we got on yet ANOTHER rotary and that really freaked us out. We stayed lost some more. Drove in circles. Then we began the portion of our journey that'll I'll call the "Dunkin' Doughnut" tour of 2009. The franchise was everywhere.

We left early for our show on Sunday and made it to Dan and Liz's series called the Roots Hoot Concert Series, in Peace Dale, RI. Dan's a longtime DJ, and through him I met several other DJ's I've been communicating with throughout the years. We had a blast, and the evening was over much to quick. True to form, we backed out of their drive, turned left and within minutes, got lost.

We had Monday off and I slept in. Then, on Tuesday we hooked up with Amy Speace and her guitar player James Maestro for a show at the Iron Horse Music Hall in Northampton, MA. What a cool downtown area. I wish we had all had more time to visit and stroll through the funky shops before showtime. What we lacked in time, we made up for in music and had a good gig swapping songs. Amy sings like an angel.

After the show we headed towards Boston. The next day, Stephen (a turn-table pro and professor at Berklee), loaded us up and took us to Berklee School Of Music, where we sat in on classes, taught about mistakes and what to avoid as an indie artist, and played a show with other wonderful students on campus at Cafe 939 "The Red Room." There are too many highlights to list. I have to get the names and spell them right. Let's just say that it was rewarding and these "kids" play fantastic and were a joy to play with on stage and off. After the workshop/clinic/show I was beat. We were gone 12 hours.

I slept in, and the next day, we played for Laurie and Neale's series called the Fox Run Concert Series in Sudbury, MA. They are both beyond generous and kind hearted. The series they run raises money for several charities throughout their city and beyond. Seth Glear started the night out and soon, Lloyd was returning the guitar he borrowed back to its owner, Lauren, whom I have known since she was 7. She's now about 6 foot tall and in the midst of high school.

The next day we loaded everything up in our rent car, and made our way back to the airport. Soon, after yet another doughnut, we were back on a plane and heading home.

This was a long trip for us. We were gone 10 days. My laptop is still in the shop and my work here has back logged. But it's okay. I have songs to learn and music to write. The "Part That Ain't Art" will just have to wait. One can only wear so many hats at once. And ... aside from the songs on my mind, I have to replace the cross I gave Joshie, I need a cross before this weekend's gigs. You know, the one I usually keep in my pocket for some "peace of mind."

Warm Regards,
Terri
(P.S. I did not have time to edit myself. Pardon the spello-s, typos, and ect.-'os)

Getting Ready ...

2009-03-23T12:07:00.001-07:00

We are playing lots of shows coming up with Brooks Williams on the East Coast. You can see where and when on my calendar (homepage):

Check out this blog on Me & thee:

http://www.meandthee.org/

Tyler Texas (W/Adam Carroll) & Jefferson Freedom Cafe

2009-03-23T11:24:00.000-07:00

This took place last weekend over the 19th, 20th, and 21st.

I like SXSW (in my rear view mirror). I'm signed and can't be dropped. Well, truth be told it's my own label, but still. At SXSW, I did the Gibson bus and played some songs for the Gibson party. Then I was out of town. I know it's good for careers and good for Austin. But it's a challenge to play. The city is packed and getting from point A to B is hard. Also, I think it's more fun to go as a "fan" and not as a "musician" if you get the chance.

Tyler ...

We played this show with Adam Carroll at a Museum in Tyler Texas. The crowd was great and all these folks had something to do in making this show come together. RBC Wealth Management, Ken Dunn, Cludia and Otis Carroll, Sandy and Goe Shepard, Tyler Junior College, Starbucks in Tyler, Ron Gleason (Pope of Texas Music in Tyler), Sherry Dunn, Robert Owen, and Katie Powell.

It was one of those magical nights. I adore Adam. He's a musical and spiritual brother with a different mother. We are like minds and if you know us (that's a little freaky). For example, only we could get lost backstage and spend the better portion of five minutes trying to find the stage. We chatted while we walked in circles. I enjoy him, his family, his better half (Amy), and his music more than I could ever write in here. He's a Texas treasure.

Last night I made several discrete trips to the appetizer bar. It was a fancy reception. But you see, when I spy food that's not preserved and I'm on the road, I'm gonna eat it. I rolled up my sleeves, opened my pockets, picked up some side boards for my plate and dug in. I was glad I wore my stretch jeans.

Fort Worth ...

Come Saturday, I was one Egg McMuffin shy a full blown case of heartburn. So, we ate at Denny's instead. I still got heartburn. I blame it on the yellow eggs. Nothing is that yellow. They were so preserved, I'm still kind of tasting them.

The show at Jefferson Freedom Cafe was a real good time. The shows have more energy. I don;t know what's up. I just feel good playing and more in the moment than I used to. I think that's the secret ... being "present." It's a gift. Kate opened (from PA) and Steve (from CA) played guitar. They were sweet and it was a pleasure to meet them.

More notes than sense:

1. SXSW ... what I saw and heard on the streets ...

Men in skinny jeans with dyed black hair and curled lips. Women looking tough or wearing skirts shorter than most of my underwear. Cell phones everywhere. Can you really talk, smoke, text, and drink a cola at the same time? Bustle. Noisy. Guy in my way at Maggie Mays (where we played the Gibson party). He would not move, he was planted in front of my instruments, and was a little too cool for school. He had curly hair and skinny jeans (sorry I'm old school) (Clint Eastwood would never have worn skinny jeans!). Okay, anyway back to the dude ... he's a guitar player. Or used to be ... for someone who used to play ... I hope he had fun. He looked like he'd been eating pickles. I sincerely like Mark at Gibson and think he works hard for the Austin community. I like my Gibson and she's playing better and better (any problems are with me keeping it in tune and in time). Lloyd does not wear skinny jeans.

Other:

1. Talk radio gets on my nerves. They are all talk and no solutions. I like the BBC though, and when they complain, at least they have accents and sound somewhat educated.

2. How can Capitol One change the rules on a credit card and start demanding a yearly fee? And then, when you cancel the card because you think it's bogus and don't want to pay the fee, why should this hurt your credit score?

3. Why does Capitol One even have banks everywhere now. I mean, are they not some of the reason why our country is in this mess?

4. How can Citi Bank be getting all this money when every time I have a question about my mortgage I have to talk to someone in India who can barely speak English?

5. Rush is Mush

March 14th, Fort Worth Texas

2009-03-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

Lloyd's the world's most humble person. But this is my site and my blog and I'm gonna spill the beans.

On this date, he was inducted into the Pedal Steel Hall of Fame. Pictured is him with his friend and mentor (who gave him his first steel), Frank Carter. I snapped a shot of Lloyd being "coach" to the band on stage, and Lloyd accepting his award and induction.

Back to Health: Private Function

2009-03-23T11:06:00.000-07:00

I played for my friends Nnacy and Chris for their grand opening. The place is called "Back to Health." It's a chiropractor business that will get you in tip top shape and keep you walkin' straight. Here's some photos of the event and you can see the facility.
It's in Fort Worth, Texas.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9381179@N02/sets/72157615392881978

P.S. We ate at the best italian food place right before showtime. Our waitress knew more about music than most writers for major papers. She was 22. I about fell out of my seat when she mentioned "Sneaky Pete" the famed steel player from days long gone.
Then she sang (this place has singing wait staff) and she sounded fantastic. Oh, to be that educated and composed at 22.

Old Number Nine in Waring, Texas

2009-03-23T10:56:00.000-07:00

It's been a real long time since we did a workshop in Waring, Texas. It was fun to return to the place where we started these workshops. I'm pretty picky about where I like to do these. The setting has to be right to pull it off. And I don't like to take chances with other people's money. I mean, we have folks that fly in from all over for these creative workshops, so the set up has to be fantastic. And, let's just say it was wonderful. We had such a good time.

The more I do these, the more I learn how to do them better. Teaching is a good way to learn. Think about this. It makes sense (smile). T

February 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th

2009-03-03T22:34:00.000-08:00

Let's see ...

TUE. I pulled an all nighter and did a phone interview at 8:10 in the morning to promote the show in Hendersonville, NC. I did not want to pull an all nighter but that's just what happens sometimes in this line of work. I went to bed for a few hours after the interview. One last thought I had before grabbing some shut-eye was that it felt good to be somewhat caught up. The occasional all nighter is worth it for a "satisfied mind."

WED. Lloyd showed up to help me with a mailout at around 11:00 am. We bustled in this office till right up to the time the post office closed and then we scooted off to Austin where I spent the night. His wife, Tina made a great dinner and afterwards I wrapped up what was left of the mail out. For the life of me, I could not spell "Vivika" and destroyed about 4 copies of my latest CD trying to autograph it for this woman. "Taliskeeta" and "Bob" were no easier. But these orders pay my mortgage, so I got them signed ... with a smile.

THUR. Eddie's Attic, Decatur GA: We made it to the airport (in Austin) by 5:00 am and arrived at Eddie's Attic in Decatur by 5:30 pm. Terry, Markum, Doug, and Telisha all played before our set and listening to them got me in the mood to play. And Eddie, the owner ... is just stellar. A wonderful man. We had lots of friends in the audience too. Oh, I almost forgot ... Andy Offutt Irwin the Whistler showed up (champion whistler) and of course, we got him up to whistle on the last song (along with everyone else).

FRI. Blue Ridge Performing Arts Center, Hendersonville NC: What a lovely theater this was. As the weather took a turn for the worse, we played and had a good time. Tom Fisch did sound, and is a musician totally worth checking out. I wish he had played that night, as we really enjoyed listening to the CD he gave us of his songs.

SAT. UU Coffeehouse, Columbia SC: We came close to selling this place out. In certain parts of the country I have no idea how this happens. But I think indie radio has something to do with it. It makes the world of difference, for sure on this trip! Everyone who runs this series is amazing. And I have to say the goodie box (of pure sugar!) was over the top. Pound cake, cookies, red velvet cake and more! I about made myself sick on it all. I took a photo of what was at my feet by night's end in the rental car.

In between SAT and SUN: The drive was long to our next destination and I felt bad for Lloyd. But we both knew that the show Sunday was of great importance to us both and would be worth the trip.

SUN. Eric Obermann Foundation (see my tour dates for details on this).

Eric has ALS and he's doing wonders with his life. His family is pure beauty and it's for people like them that I (we) travel. We get to see a side of people that truly amazes us.

Happy Trails, Terri

More Notes Than Sense (I wrote a bunch on this trip and here are a few snippets)

1. At the airport in Nashville, on the outskirts of the baggage claim, they have a stage where folks perform. I had but one question, "Why?"

2. A nice guy named Clay who helps out at the UU, had crashed on his bike that day and landed on a twenty dollar bill in the street.

3. I remembered to pack everything for this trip. Everything. Everything but my pants. I mean I had show pants (that sounds funny "show pants") but had forgotten a change of clothes.

4. I can win a contest for tuning the slowest when using an alternate tuning.

5. We drove through snow. That's right, snow this trip. It ain't supposed to snow this time of year where we toured.

6. Lloyd hates driving in snow.

7. I need a haircut and am no longer allowed to cut my own. I did something really odd to it with my toenail scissors and ... this need not be finished.

8. We heard this radical preacher in AL on the radio that I captured on my iphone. For me and Lloyd, it was comedy hour. Sorry, but if you use the word "Deceivnesssssss" or "Hunker Time," it's open season.

9. There are more CVS's per mile than Starbucks these days.

10. I'm lucky ... this is hard work, but I love it.

The Rose in the Rock

2009-02-24T01:56:00.000-08:00

I was tired of the rosebushes. They were all thorns and no blooms. So, in a fit of determination, one afternoon I pulled them roots and all from a flower bed in my backyard. I even put down a tarp, to prevent them from coming back. And then, to make double - double sure they'd never return, I put rocks on top of the tarp. So, it was quite a surprise when on New Years Eve, I saw this coming up in full bloom from under the rocks. Like Helen Keller said, "One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
Have a great day,
Terri Hendrix

This is by: Bill Bombeck (About his wife, Erma Bombeck)

2009-02-24T01:49:00.000-08:00

ERMA BOMBECK

By Bill Bombeck
Dear Readers:
In 1989 Erma began to experience a series of painful medical problems, but she disdained letting her readers know most of the details. She usually brushed aside rumors and inquiries with a joke and a plea that her purpose was to write humor and make people smile. Health reports are not funny. Her greatest fear was to become a "poster child" and have people feel sorry for her.

Throughout these assaults she remained unbelievably optimistic. Erma always knew that there was a pony in there someplace. Not only did the research and writing of her book I Want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I Want to Go to Boise provide a nation with the heroics of kids surviving cancer, but it also helped give Erma the courage to face her many trials, including her last one.

I have met astronauts, war heroes, firefighters and police officers, but I have never known anyone with more courage than Erma. Courage has been called grace under fire. I would propose we call it Erma under fire.

Erma would not have approved of my words. But for this one time I will do what Erma admonished all who challenged her words, and that was to "go out and get your own column."

I have searched for a way to show my family’s gratitude to the thousands of fans and friends who have shown so much love and compassion toward her. I’d like to share with you a personal recollection I read at the family services that were held before the funeral.

* * *

In 1947, three or four couples were outside the Lakeside Ballroom in Dayton, Ohio. We were too early to be admitted for the big-band dance, so we all wandered over to the adjoining amusement park.

Not far from the ballroom was the roller coaster. All of the boys began cajoling their dates to ride with them. The girls giggled and said no. It was too frightening, and it would mess up their hair and dresses.

I looked at my date and asked her if she wanted to go. She didn’t hesitate. She said, "Sure, I’ll go." I was surprised and looked at her again. She was slight, narrow-shouldered, with tiny hands and feet. But she had the greatest smile and laugh. Her smile had a charming space between her two front teeth. I thought, this is some kind of girl!

The Lakeside roller coaster was a rickety old leftover from the Depression. The frame was mostly made of unpainted two-by-fours. No modern inspection by OSHA would have ever approved this for man’s use.

The cars were linked together with what looked like modified train couplers. They were mostly red-painted wood with metal wheels and a cog-like device that clicked loudly. The seats had worn, black leather padding. There were no belts, but there were worn steel bars that had to be raised and lowered by the attendant.

The attendant was an old man in oil-stained bib overalls. He said little, but raised the bar and she entered the seat first, and I followed by her side. The bar clicked in place just above our waistlines.
There were two tapered two-by-fours on the platform, each angled away from the other. He moved the one closer to the car to an upright position. The car moved forward, slowly picking up speed. The metal wheels on the metal track made so much noise you had to yell to your partner to be heard.
The car left the level starting track and began a slow ascent. In about 20 or 30 seconds, when the track became steeper, the cog device engaged the car. You could feel it grab. Then there was a distinct rhythmic clacking sound as the cog device labored to overcome the near-perpendicular angle of the track. You felt like it wouldn’t make it, but just when it reached a point that forced the passengers to stare, not at the car ahead or the track, but only at the night sky, it plunged downward, a wild, almost free, fall. Maybe, whatever controlled the speed was now broken.
She made her first sound since she had said, "Sure, I’ll go." She screamed and clenched my arm. I said, "Hang on to the bar." She kept hanging on to my arm. Suddenly we were at the bottom, and we both were so relieved that we laughed, and I saw that smile again.

The ride continued, with bone-jarring twists and turns, dizzying heights and abrupt plunges. Sometimes we would enter a dark tunnel, so dark the sparks from the wheels and tracks made it look like it was on fire.

She kept hanging on to my arm. I was gripping the metal bar so tightly I thought I would bend it. This was some ride. We were thrilled and exhilarated, scared and breathless.

We had been in and out of many tunnels. Each time they ended with almost blinding light in our eyes, and then on to another straight-up climb.

We started into a tunnel that seemed to plunge deeper than all the others. It kept dropping. We both sensed this one was really different. Finally, instead of the bright lights, we were back at the platform.

We looked at each other. We didn’t speak, but we sensed the ride had changed. The man in the bib overalls was standing by the tapered two-by-fours. He started to push one from its angel to a straight-up position. The car stopped. I told him the ride was great, but it was too short; we wanted to go on. He raised the bar. She smiled again. I looked at the attendant again. He said, "This is April 22, 1996 – your ride is over." I looked over at her seat. She was gone.

This is by: Cynthia Rylant (Poet)

2009-02-24T01:46:00.000-08:00

I was afraid of writing poetry for the longest time because I wasn't any good at rhyming, and I thought poetry had to be complicated and very, very deep. I didn't know that the very way I looked at things was poetry. I mean, I notice things other people don't and usually it has something to do with the way one small thing means so much.
I once met a boy who had read my book of poems about growing up in Beaver, West Virginia (Waiting to Waltz...A Childhood) and he said to me, "I know just what you mean about Todd's Hardware Store. Every time I walk into the Western Auto Store in this little town I live in ... "And he proceeded to describe to me what it was about the Western Auto Store that hit him the way a good sunset hits you and I thought to myself, this boy's a poet. I believe he was born with that way of looking at things, as I was, and even if he never writes one single line of poetry, he'll always be a poet. And the people around him will mutter about how intense he can get sometimes and his teachers will complain about how he never pays enough attention and people will wonder why he can't just lighten up and watch "The Cosby Show" with them.
What they don't understand is that he's seeing all those small, meaningful things they're missing, and it sucks away so much of your soul and energy when you're trying to make sense of what you see with your poet's heart. They will want him to be a regular Joe and he will never be able to be that and because of it he will feel lonelier than most people-even though he may be a popular boy-and he will wonder why he can't live a normal life like everybody else. He will wonder why he hurts so much sometimes.
Why he feels so different from everybody else who's just fitting right in to all the systems: everybody else who's getting the gold stars at school, or marrying and settling into a nice job in a nice town and finding a nice wife and having four nice kids and keeping a nice lawn and a nice clean car. He will to often feel like a failure, and he will to often never pick up a pen and try to get published because he doesn't know what a good poet he is since there's no test that told him so. A lot of people think they can write poetry, and many do, because they can figure out how to line up the words, or make certain sounds rhyme, or just imitate the other poets they've read. But this boy, he's the real poet, because when he tries to put on paper what he's seen with his heart, he will believe deep down there are no good words for it, no words can do it, and at that moment he will have begun to write poetry.

This is by: Wendy Waldman (Musician)

2009-02-24T01:44:00.000-08:00

Here is a reply to Bob Lefsetz's blog From Wendy Waldman herself about the state of music and recording artists that I think you might really enjoy reading ...

From Wendy Waldman:

The thing that you're saying and that you are teaching people in a most significant way is that in today's world, perhaps like it was back in the "old" days, it takes a village to make any real music happen-I'm not talking about that other product that's marketed as "music," where record companies can throw millions of dollars at the advertisers, car dealers, soap makers, whatever (basically). As you astutely and patiently point out, week after week, that model has become like the dinosaurs--we're watching the ponds dry up and the massive creatures called record companies are starting to fall to their knees and keel over.

I'm talking about real musicians in touch with real audiences, selling, as Tip O'Neill said, retail...one vote at a time, one cd at a time, one show at a time, one autograph, one town at a time. That's what we did in the old days. WarnerBros sent us out to all the regions of the country, made us go into radio stations even and especially where the jocks DIDN'T like our music and made us go to all the warehouses where the people actually worked for the labels. We were taught to connect with the audience, with the people who worked in the trenches, and especially, to be fearless and meet with the ones who DIDN'T like us yet, who hadn't added the record, who didn't like "chick singers," Jews, whatever the excuse was--and to turn them around.

What an education. I opened for everyone under the sun, from John Lee Hooker to Robert Klein, I played for 2 people in Chicago one night, and I played for 60,000 in a Rhode Island festival. I flew alone to Boston at the age of 22, rented a car, and started touring as a solo artist behind the first album. I was too young to do any of that stuff, as are most 22-year olds. I was totally unprepared for how COLD Boston was, and East Lansing Michigan, where of course the gig was cancelled and there I sat in my hotel room.

I was of course, counseled to straighten my hair, my nose, to change my music, to change my stance, and of course, I was asked by various sleezbags to "accommodate" them--
and I wasn't one of the highest profile artists out there--imagine what some of those guys and girls dealt with...no wonder some of them have retreated behind their gates in the hills....

The thing that is so amazing is that you and I have witnessed several sea changes in our lifetime--you and I can remember when the big labels were Decca., Bell, etc--then came Warner Bros and Asylum, and singer songwriters following in the wake of Dylan and the first generation of post beat musicians--
we saw all those labels vanish overnight. Remember when Mitch Miller was president of CBS?

Remember when an artist, in the 80s would be so mortified if they were without a record deal they would disappear from the scene altogether rather than face their friends and say they were unsigned, dropped whatever--

Remember all the bands that came and went, and we were told that they were surely the next big and permanent thing--they even had big hits--a large amount of those people are no longer in the business, or at any rate, playing music, and they are younger than you and me.

We could have a fun dinner table game trying to name all the acts that were trumpeted to us as the next truly hot phenom...

Remember the crash of 79, the advent of disco, of punk, of new wave, of grunge? Remember the glorious and underrated prog rock bands (you actually had to be able to play, though taste was not always required....) and the good music of the 80s that is overlooked? Remember the now missed years of southern rock--an actually interesting indigenous adaptation of a commercial medium to a regional sound? Oh, for an indigenous rock sound today, a regional identity--such as the black music that came out of the midwest and south, and how different it was from the urban black music in those days--now it's all homogeneous, but the black musicians I knew in the south said they grew up listening to country and gospel and they found themselves sidelined by the more media savvy emerging black urban music--which actually started 15 years ago...remember real funk, where you had to be able to play and create a live groove that was mesmerizing...

Remember artists not dressing like their audiences? Remember Dylan going electric at Newport? I do. I also remember being educated by the stoned djs on fm radio across the country...teaching me that there were no formats, only cool music. What a rich history we have here, in only 50 years, but we have to understand that its roots reach way way back, complicated only by the advance of mass media and its impact on all of us.

But one thing we also understand is that being an artist or being in the music "business" these days is a moving target. You have to have a low center of gravity, keep your eyes on the horizon, not on your immediate location. You also have to not be greedy, and you have to understand that whatever you were told or sold about being a star is OVER. Also, if you have a hot job at a record company, and a slamming expensive car and a couple of alimonies to pay, and all that stuff, you'd best enjoy it now, because it is OVER. The new day is upon us.

I"m very fortunate that I never became a star--it has made for a hell of a life and I wouldn't trade it. These days, I am mentored by people much younger than myself and I'm having a whole new life in this industry. Apparently, I'm still here...:):):) but in a way I never would have understood as a kid.

And I have been written out of the scene so many times, not to mention being told that women over 35 in the music business should just go away quietly because there's no place for them--actually, I think I was over the hill at 27, then at 32, then 35, then of course 40, not to mention 45(!!!) and come one, 50???

I got used to it, and I kept learning that all that stuff is just bullshit, and those rules don't apply to actual musicians. The rules do apply if you're in that other business, the one that looks like music but is something else entirely.

My heroes: Stravinsky, Bartok, McCoy Tyner, Skip James, Dylan, some of my American Indian painter friends and idols, Keith Richards, Duke Ellington, Jobim, Joe Strummer, Ella Fitzgerald, Bach, Picasso, Jerry Brown--people who took and take the long view of life and art, the ones who are gone all worked until the day they died--Bartok died leaving 17 measures to be completed--he left a sketch I think, for a friend, put his pen down, went into the hospital and died the next day. This was the last piano concerto and I love this piece so much. These artists show me that you make art, that's your life, that some years you might get lucky and hit one out of the park and some years will be hard--but this is your gift from, as Kinky would say, the deity of your choice, and you are meant to honor it and give back, and grow as an artist and a person until the day you are recalled....:) They don't say the late Beethoven quartets are the best for no reason..Joe Strummer and Jobim were both doing the best work of their lives when they passed away, both deaths I still grieve.

Jerry Brown of course, reminded us early that we must lower our expectations and broaden our horizons--and he said that many many years ago..

that's really what we're doing--we've learned that lesson over and over--and actually, it makes for such a wonderful and interesting life--

People who have had to roll with the waves, who've opted to grow with it and see what comes next have just followed the Jerry Brown model. The limo doesn't stop here anymore, nor should it, nor is it particularly good for you, nor does it have anything to do with the act of making art.

My real life has been far more interesting than whatever fiction I concocted in my mind about my career when I was a kid. I wouldn't trade anything for the road I've gotten to travel.

Photo of Lloyd and the Kids

2009-02-17T22:49:00.000-08:00

Well, Lloyd said "If you have photos of your grandkids bring them up." This is the result ... way beautiful. Photo Credit: Gary Seloff

February 13th and 14th (Aquarius Weekend Mucky Duck and Cactus)

2009-02-17T16:37:00.000-08:00

Friday, February 13th - Mucky Duck in Houston

I played this show as a band, and a woman from the Celtic band Clandestine, did sound. We had a wonderful time here. Man oh man, and that Shepherds Pie and fries ... "oh baby oh!"

Many moons ago, I posted about sound issues at the Duck. One thing about growing older is that you learn when you put your foot in your mouth and own up to it. Well, maybe in this case, since I was typing, I put my foot in my keyboard. Anyway, after reviewing some of these posts from the past months, I stumbled upon what I had written and blushed. I think this post from well over a year ago was silly and trite. It's hard to run a business, much less a listening room, and it's all too easy, to play armchair quarterback. The Duck has always treated us to a great meal, opened the calendar to any date we wanted to play, and treated our band with courtesy. On my end, I responded (after well over a decade of performing there) by nitpicking about the sound. Pretty lame on my part, huh? My bad. "D'oh baby D'oh."

I think Karma has a way of getting back at us when we do wrong. I dropped my laptop and had to purchase a brand new Mac on the 16th since I pretty much fried my other one. Lesson learned.

Anyway, Emily was a real sweetheart and the show was fun. Houston, is one of my best places to play. A true favorite stop for me. I can't wait to go back, which will be in April for the Houston International Festival. I for sure will have to swing by the Duck for a meal.

My Birthday was way fun. Thanks for the good jokes, flowers (Ollie and Anita), and cards!

Cactus Cafe on Valentine's Day

The same as above only Betty Soo opened the show. She did a great job.

This is the 30 year Anniversary of Cactus Cafe ... and it was a real honor to be part of their party. We had folks in from MI, OH, and IL that make the annual trek for these shows. I am so honored. I feel lucky ... and yes, blessed.

The new music is coming along and I have never been in a better place musically. I am learning a bunch of new things right now so there are a few warts (on my end) that need to be fixed. I'm hoping to have the new parts learned by the end of the month. We'll see. I'm certainly working on it.

Thanks for reading and wherever this may find you ... best wishes!

Terri Hendrix

Gearing up for shows this weekend ... Happy Valentines!

2009-02-11T14:01:00.000-08:00

2/7/09 & 2/08/09

2009-02-08T22:01:00.000-08:00

Saturday night we played in Port Aransas, Texas, at Third Coast Theater. It felt great to play again. I'm not one of these musicians that can handle lots of time off between gigs. I feel better playing gig after gig. The more I play, the better I feel "playing."

Having this much time off, meant that I had to learn all my songs all over again. But the effort I put into preparing paid off. We had a nice show and it ended up being one of those magical nights where there was a good vibe with good folks in the audience.

A matter of fact, the vibe was so good, a lady (who shall remain anonymous), showed me her bra. Let me explain, it was her birthday, she'd had quite a bit of tequila, and had lost 140 pounds. She'd been through a bitter break up and had never treated herself to a fancy over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder and decided to show it off. To me. It was actually very funny. There I was autographing cds when all of a sudden, she got all happy about her bra, and then she unbuttoned her blouse and showed it to me. All I could think of was, damn that's a pretty bra. The one I had on, had something up with the under wire that jutted out through the cloth at my armpits and gave me blisters. All night its rubbery straps had been flopping off my shoulders. To make matters worse, my dog Buddy, had partially chewed it in the center, and I had to wear it with an undershirt so it did not look like I had three hooters.

This gal was high on life, rid of a bad man, and was out on the town with her gal pals. I admired her zip, pep, and style. I was not offended! This lady ... like her bra, had class. I did however, vow to rip my brassiere to shreds after the encounter.

Upon writing this, I'm glad she could afford a bra! Why, with this recession, plunkin' down money on anything takes consideration. That's why I was so happy our first show of the year sold out in advance and put my own jittery fears to rest.

But after Saturday night, I have vowed that I'm not gonna spend my energy worrying about the economy and what the future holds. I'm just gonna work hard on my music, shake things up a bit, and be thankful so that folks that can make it out ... are happy they did so.

*********

Sunday I played at Cheatham for Kent's birthday. I tried a new song out. The hardest thing about a new song is the structure. It's like a puzzle. Anyway, warts and all it felt good to play a new song. Now I just have to fix the kinks in this new tune and write 11 more (smile) ... to make a record.

We are still doing a jazz record ... but I want to do a new record too, of original music, as a follow up to my last one, "Spiritual Kind."

2/03/09

2009-02-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

Hey, Happy New Year!!!!

Goodness, January went by in a blur! Well, I hit the road this weekend. This is the longest I have gone without playing a gig since 1992.

Thanks for the emails about my mom. She's doing better. I'm glad I had the time off to deal with the situation. All of the shows (except for one), have been rescheduled this year. Best wishes and see you at a gig! Oh, and Happy Valentines Day too!

Terri

P.S. Feb GoatNotes will be about Dogs (Hmmmm, I wonder why).

Orders on the Farm

2008-12-09T20:55:00.000-08:00

From the tour in CA to right now ... 12/09/08

2008-12-09T19:36:00.000-08:00

Last time I wrote in here, it was after the show at the Palms. Yes, that show ... the show that my assistant Lori had to wrestle to get our names on the calendar on their website so she could uh, get the word out that we were to play there. We had a good crowd thanks to Lori ... 'nuff said 'bout that ... the rest of this CA run was a blur ... Kim Rogers KVMR is PURE GOLD and made the trip up to Grass Valley worth it.

We then came back to Texas and immediately left for Eureka Springs and Fayettville in AR, Shawnee KS, and Tulsa and Norman OK. We played for some nice people. All of which had the event on their websites (smile), were easy to work with, and made the 22nd through the 26th pass by with ease and grace on the road. On the way back from the show on Norman, I wrote what would become "Christmas in August" on my iphone. I'm cracking up now as I write this. Who would have thought I could use the notepad, recorder, and ipod on the phone to wrap up a song? Sure enough, on the 28th I was in the studio recording it based on what I had laid down on my iphone.

In Texas from the 28th through the first few weeks of November we finished recording "Left Over Alls (the retrospective) and "Christmas on Wilory Farm" (the EP). One of my favorite studio moments was when Bob Pennington came in and laid down his Penny Whistle parts. He was fantastic and his abilities took us all by surprise.

We squeezed in the Texas Book Festival, a benefit for the Katherine Porter School in Wimberley, and the Rice Festival while we were recording. It was kind of hard to put my brain in two places at once but it worked. A highlight was finally meeting my booking agent John in person along with his wife Lucy after one of those shows. I was relieved that he was "normal" as we'd formed a business partnership via the internet and telephone. We shared a laugh about that at the dinner table.

Election day (I was sick to my stomach and actually left an election party because I was so worried I made myself sick). Then ... OBAMA won ... this is my blog ... not my email list and let's just say I get political in here. I'm so happy he won. I'm still smiling about this as it was truly a wonderful moment in history.

We then did 2 back to back weekends of our "Life's a Song" workshop in Port Aransas, Texas and this is where this blog takes a really weird twist. My Dad called me on Friday, November 16th and informed me that my mother had fallen ill. I did the workshops ... camped at BAMC, held onto dear friends, and managed to hold my head above water through that time. This happened on the exact day that my dad started treatment for his illness ... so needless to say November was quite the month for my family. But the workshop ... oh, I could go on and on. Nice people, wonderful songs, and great energy ... very invigorating.

Thanksgiving came and went (we had much to be thankful for and still do). We played a show at Wild Basin in Austin for one of my favorite people, Paul Barker. It was my first show after all this went down with my folks and I felt a little rusty on my music, but we had a good time and I hope the crowd did too. That's a pretty nifty place. If in Austin, try and visit that place. It's a nature center and wilderness preserve.

I bought a nice fern (what I call this year's Christmas tree) and celebrated December 1st by decorating it. Every year I feel bad for the tree I buy that's been chopped down that I watch die over the holidays, so this year I'm guilt free. I bought something I'll plant after Christmas (if I don't kill it) (by accident - I ain't got a green thumb) (smile).

I then played a solo show at Momo's ... yes, a solo show. It was fun and aside from some tempo problems I picked up on, I had a good time. I'm a fan of the metronome and I could tell I had not been working with it while I played. This show was a workshop, meet and greet, and Girl Guitar event ran by Mandy Rowden. It's a brilliant program for women who wish to learn to play guitar or gig with other women. One of the questions I was asked was a hoot. "How do you deal with women or people that are mean spirited in this industry?" My answer ... "Most of the really good players I know are too busy creating, working, and playing live to be gossiping or having a laugh at someone else's expense." I used to attract folks that were poop-heads into my circle. I don't anymore. I wrote about them and their B.S. in "I Found the Lions." Here's the secret ... I don't have a B.S. meter because I don't tolerate B.S. period. Life's too short. And way too fragile to waste a moment in the wrong camp with the wrong people.

Last Saturday I played for the wonderful concert series in Onion Creek (Austin). We ate the best meal before the show. It was Beef Wellington. My oh my ... I hurt myself. I could not stop eating. Kathy and Ed cooked the pre-show meal and Vicki and Tom put on the show. They go through great effort to put on a show. It amazes me ... now these folks don't even have a website (smile) to promote what they do ... but they sell out every show they do because they care about what they do (like we do here) and who they choose to book for their season.

While all this action has been going on I batched (ecommerce) and printed out the pre-orders for my new records. They have been pretty amazing. We are right around 2000 and this more than covers the cost of recording them as well as manufacturing. This is a time when labels are shutting down and downloading has taken over the industry. All I can say is I'm humbled and extremely grateful. We'll start mailing them out next week. If you are curious what it sounds like, check out Myspace on my homepage as I have several tracks posted for you to listen to. I'm doing pre-production on this jazz record which I hope to start in January. Funds from the these 2 projects will pay for that as well. I'm lucky ... way lucky.

I took lots of photos the past few months ... but I'm a little tired and this darn blog thingy is fighting with me and won't load them correctly. So, I'm signing off ... Happy Trails, Terri

10/16/08 KVMR & Palms/Winters Opera House

2008-10-18T06:37:00.000-07:00

The main reason we ventured to this area was for Kim Rogers at KVMR. A longtime supporter of not only my music but indie music as a whole, being on her show "live" and thanking her in person, was worth the effort it took to get there.

The Palms/Winters Opera House:

This was the final show we played with Stevie this tour. He sounded fantastic and the folks that came to the show were a delight.

Happy Trails, Terri

10/14/08 Freight and Salvage

2008-10-18T06:24:00.000-07:00

This was another fun show with Stevie Coyle (in the round). The Freight and Salvage has been a staple of the California music scene for well over two decades. The sound was great here ... and the crowd was lively for a Tuesday!

Happy Trails,

Terri

Here I am with Tracy Miller monkeying around before showtime!

10/12/08 KPIG and Don Quixhotes

2008-10-18T04:22:00.000-07:00

This day got off to an early start. I was already up though as most of the night I had been kept awake due to the howling wind. I've never heard wind sound like that. It cried and moaned and most certainly freaked me out. As we made our way to KPIG, a radio station in Watsonville, I tried to wake up so I would be somewhat coherent for the live broadcast and their 29th Anniversary party held in a festival like atmosphere in their parking lot. I played some harmonica on Sherry Austin's songs and Lloyd played guitar. Then we played our set. Afterwards, we joined friends in a nearby town for lunch. Then we made our way towards our gig at ... Don Quixhotes ...

Pictured are some kiddos who totally pulled at my heartstrings and made my day (girls, I know you are reading this and this is the Internet and I don't want to put your names up here ... be good ... do good in school ... hug your mom's for me ... and thanks for being so fun to hang out with)!

Happy Trails! Terri

10/11/08 "10 Year Celebration" Meg and Cindy

2008-10-11T03:57:00.000-07:00

Wow ... what to say about this. First of all it was quite an honor to be included.

Cindy and Meg's big celebration unfolded at Mayacama Ranch in the heart of Napa Valley near Calistoga. From the location of their party, you could see miles and miles of rolling hills and Fall foliage weaving through the countryside.

You should be told that the folks who attended were quite an interesting bunch. The beer was handmade by Meg herself (Four Legged Brewing Company), and the soap they placed in the rooms of their guests was made by Cindy. Oh, and one of their friends passed out lip balm (which came in handy for my chapped lips). She had just started an organic cosmetic company called "Miss Beehavin."

The food the chef's cooked was unbelievable. I needed side boards for my plate alone. There's nothing better than a thick grilled portabella mushroom in my book. If you throw in cheese and potato's, I'm high on the hog.

After we devoured our plates of food, we readied ourself for the show. For me this entailed deep breaths and stretches to speed up the process of digestion less I burp my way through the concert I was about to attempt. Michael Capella was a special guest, and he warmed up the crowd with his easy stage banter and heartfelt songs. But as every minute passed, the temperature dropped and by the time we took to the stage it was outright cold. But that didn't stop Cindy, Meg, and their guests from having a good time and the show went on without a hitch. They had turned in a list of requests to me for us to perform, and during the show we performed "Get Up." As we reached the chorus, a wonderful memory for me will be everyone in the audience singing with us, turning the song into something of an anthem. Just thinking about some of the folks who while wrapped in blankets to keep warm, stuck out their fists to pump them in time to the music, will make me smile for days to come.

Happy Trails, Terri

P.S.

Paul Tumello did a great job on sound!

There's a wonderful quote that goes something like this:

"To have a friend, you must first be a friend." It's been some time since I've seen two people more loved by their friends and family than Cindy and Meg.

10/10/08 Studio E, Sebastopol CA

2008-10-10T03:48:00.000-07:00

Tonight we played Studio E with Stevie Coyle. This venue, which is also used as a recording studio, is nestled in the middle of a lush green orchard. A group of volunteers run this series making it truly a labor of love to bring music into their corner of California.

We did this show with Stevie Coyle and it made for a unique time. Stevie's wry and dry sense of humor, jazz infused lyrics, and killer guitar chops made him a fun partner to join up with on what would be a series of dates we booked together this time through the California area.

Happy Trails,

Terri

Here in CA 1:00 a.m.

2008-10-10T00:55:00.000-07:00

"Whew," what a flight. It was lo-o-o-o-o-ong. By the time we landed and I picked up my bags in baggage claim and hoisted my overstuffed luggage on my shoulders, I had grown a beard.

Terri

Studio last week

2008-10-10T00:42:00.001-07:00

The retrospective CD is coming along (does anyone have any suggestions for what it should be called? It's new recordings mixed with old).

We are wrapping up a Christmas EP too.

I have to admit, this much cramming has worn me out. It's fun, but intense. There's a delicate line I walk in the studio. Especially with those that have more experience than I do. However, I have more music in my collection than most people legally should ... (is there an AA program for music buyers?) and sonically I know what I want and will not settle for anything that rubs me the wrong way. I'm open to ideas though ... it's just, as I said, a fine balance. Happy Trails, Terri

Wink ... Wink ... "You betcha!"

2008-10-05T23:30:00.001-07:00

10/4/08 Casbeers at the Church, San Antonio Texas

2008-10-05T22:36:00.000-07:00

Well, over the years I've been asked "Where is your favorite place to play?" I've always been politically correct and never declared a favorite place. Also perhaps, because I like them all. Man, I work with lots of great folks and though the places vary from town to town ... all have a fond place in my heart. Yes, even the gigs that are not so great. You might be surprised in knowing that my least favorite place to play was the Cottonbowl, in Dallas, in 2003. It's my personal opinion that if I need a GPS to locate my bass player, chances are the stage is too big. I mean ... I'm a folk singer. Even when I rap (smile) I'm a folk singer. Not to be confused with "folksy" ... "Gosh-Darnit" ... "wink" "wink" ... uh, a folk singer. Meaning that any place or room I can make a personal connection with (even to say, Joe Six Pack) (Hmmmm ... "you betcha!") I find happiness in that situation. But Casbeers ... and the audience ... was exactly what I have been looking for my whole career. Every element was there. The capacity (200), the venue (a funky old church with stained glass windows and not a bad seat in the house), the chairs (comfortable church pews), the overhead (not so high that the ticket buyer had to pay too much for the show - which leaves me guilty), the sound (the engineer set it and left it alone and did not jack with us leaving us to do our own dynamics), the owners (the sweetest people on the planet), the crowd (warm and fun ... hometown crowd), the opener (Elizabeth Wills and Mark her guitar player ... nice and fun and real good), the food (their enchiladas are from heaven), our helpers Claude and Sherry (got our food and brought it to us so we could get ready), a green room (I could change strings and go over parts before the performance) okay ... you get the point? It was PURE magic. I had spent most of last week learning how to use finger-picks again (long story but it sounds better when I pick) and it was rewarding to have the intense rehearsals pay off in such a stellar place. Now, if I could figure out a way to play there once a month. Or maybe just move in ...

Happy Trails,

Terri

10/3/08 All Good Cafe, Dallas Texas

2008-10-05T22:19:00.000-07:00

We played at a funky club/restaurant ran by Mike Snider. Last time I played this place was 2004, so it was for sure time to get back and see him. He's a lone wolf in the field of music these days. He's an independent promoter who books shows because he loves music and has a sincere passion for it. And he really knows his music.

Here's the type of guy he is ... he emailed letting us know that he forgot to pay us for advance tickets sold. And here's the type of business person I am ... I did not even notice. We were paid and I did not listen when we settled up. He was going through the paperwork and I shook my head and said "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah" ... and something else like "Yada-yada-yada-yada ... you know, I really like that band Sorta!" And then we got to talking about Sorta and their new record and how much we liked that band and I did not think twice to check the money. I just put the paperwork up in my bank bag and helped with the load out. The next day when I was settling the books I thought, "Dang" there must have been a bunch of freebies in the crowd. But I just shrugged it off. I'm telling you ... he's a lone wolf in this industry and more than ever I have a newfound respect for him ... even after all these years of doing business with him.

Happy Trails,

Terri

9/27/08 Home Merc Building, Nazareth Texas

2008-09-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

Me and Emily ... this has to be one of my favorite photos!!!

9/27/08 Home Merc Building, Nazareth Texas

2008-09-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

I suppose if this weekend was to be labeled, it would be my walk down memory lane. Ten years prior, I had played for the fine folks in Nazareth at the Home Merc building. It was fun to go back. The drive was worth it. The building has been totally renovated due to private funding and volunteers. They have turned it into an arts center (proceeds from my concert there would enable them to have a budget to book other artists) and throughout renovations kept the historical integrity of the building in tact. Darryl and Joann were responsible for pulling this event off and true to form after sound check treated us and their board of directors to a pasta dinner at the eco friendly house appropriately named "Casa La Entereza." Their newly built home is actually a learning center and recently they had up to a hundred people from two charter buses tour their complex as part of a Renewable Energy Conference. On a side note, Joann was the inspiration behind my song "Spiritual Kind." Before we played that nights show, the local kids "opened up."

I've included the photos from the show! Enjoy! Terri

9/26/08 Paramount Theater - Abilene Texas

2008-09-30T21:32:00.000-07:00

"Whew." Another looooooooooooooooo-nnnnnnnnnnnnn-g drive. We got in town and I checked into my hotel room and went straight to sleep. The next day we got up early, did radio, played at a luncheon and discussed songwriting, ate lunch at a funky BBQ restaurant, then went to dinner at a great local restaurant. Yes, quite a bit of eating. That's why I wore stretch jeans. Our "roadie" for the day was Joe Specht (a writer and music collector). He was a delight to spend the afternoon with and we both greatly appreciated his help driving us around town and helping us load and unload our equipment throughout the day.

That night we played at a beautiful theater called the Paramount for the West Texas Book Festival. Victoria Moore and Kina Lankford (pictured) started the night out and then we came on. These two women were simply fantastic. Their stage banter, songs, poise, grace ... man, I was floored by their performance.

I went to school as a music major at Hardin-Simmons University in the late 80's so it truly was an honor to be invited back to play this prestigious event.

Happy Trails,

Terri

09/21/08 Kavanaugh Church, Kids Show, Greenville TX

2008-09-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

Last night, I got back to my hotel room and crammed for this kids show. I don't do these enough to always have a handle on the music. I'm glad I was prepared because that way I was able to enjoy the moment ... and even more important ... the kids! This show was a benefit as part of the Community Enrichment Series and the Suzuki Program (they raised $900 the night prior and that money will buy 3 fiddles for kids that need them).

There's so much negativity in the news these days. In spite of your political beliefs I'm sure we can agree that things are a mess. In spite of this, all over the place there are people (like Mrs. Francis Green who works with these programs) I work with or play music for during my travels who use their time and energy to make the world a better place.

Happy Trails,

Terri

09/20/08 Municipal Auditorium, Greenville TX

2008-09-26T08:48:00.000-07:00

We left pretty early to get to Greenville on time. These days, you just never know if the trek up I-35 will be traffic free ... or a parking lot. So we always take logistics into consideration. We listened to talk radio which is really a good way to get bummed out before a show. Luckily I took control of the dials and put on some Pointer Sister's to pick me up before we arrived in Greenville. We checked into the hotel and boogied on over to sound check at the auditorium. The sound check was an easy one. The folks that put these music series on are top notch. After sound check we ate heaping piles of fried chicken in the dining hall with the rest of the crew and then sat back to listen to the Suzuki kids (pictured) wow the crowd with their fiddle playing. Max Stallings, was next ... his band was fantastic, and the crowd totally embraced him and his music. Next up was us ... and singing in that hall was a true delight. When the sound is good we can get adventurous on our instruments and I can play more with the vocals. It's kind of hard to explain, but this was probably one of my favorite nights singing all year. I did not want to get off stage. It was a blast. After us was the one and only Guy Clark. I shook his hand before he prepared to play and said, "It's an honor." And it was. There's only one like him and I have a tremendous amount of respect for his work. I've seen him play several times over the years and this was perhaps my favorite. He was so at ease and funny! His humor was dry to the bone and as good as his lyrics are, I found myself enthralled with his stage banter. Little gems came out of his mouth like "I'm getting forgetful in my old age. Last Easter, my wife let me hide my own eggs." What a fun performance!

Happy Trails,

Terri

9/12/08 Longview Texas Show

2008-09-19T12:51:00.000-07:00

This show was a great time with great people. It was held in a museum and I included some artwork from one of the artist's exhibits.

We played and made it home before the storm hit. We barely got any rain here in the hill country but Hurricane Ike was pretty bad and outright devastating in certain parts of Texas. It's beyond sad. I'll be helping out and more on that later. For now, here's a piece of work I found beautiful.

This picture (taken by Tom Geddie) is of a piece of artwork by Jean Cappadonna Nichols.

9/11/08

2008-09-10T23:10:00.000-07:00

On this date in 2001, I was woken by a phone call informing me what had happened to our country.

Today, many years later I've got a fear in my belly again. Only this time, it's in regards to this hurricane. Thanks for the emails. I think my casa will be okay. I've got the mutts at a shelter on dry land and my neighbors are gonna keep an eye on my house should the creek rise. Again, I'm pretty sure my home sits in a safe zone. Please keep your fingers crossed for my friends along the coastlines ... T

09/05/08, 09/06/08, and 09/07/08

2008-09-10T21:42:00.000-07:00

1. The woods ... where I looked for my car keys.

2. Lloyd smiling against a beautiful, tranquil, serene backdrop (prior to me telling him I'd lost my car keys).

3. Monica and Krissy from Tucson with us (helped with Jesse!)

4. Nancy and Bruce with Jesse (dog sat as well)

5. Dark Skies! Yeah, yeah, yeah!!!!

I put these three dates together as they were something of a whirlwind. Let's see, we made our way from Taos to Flagstaff. We reached Flagstaff and within a few minutes, I lucked into a complimentary free "social hour" at the hotel. They served free chips and salsa, and MAN did it hit the spot. I sat out on the deck, ate and ate, then ate some more ... and then went to dinner at a nearby diner. It just felt good to move. Let's face it, hours like that in a car are no fun. The next day I met Lloyd around three or so and we met our concert promoter, Stephen, for an early dinner. He was a delight to work with and was a total professional to work with. It was me who fell down on the job as right before show time I managed to lose the car keys. Yes, as I was being introduced I was rummaging through the woods trying to find the yellow scrunchy band on which my car keys dangled. I made it to the stage, hung my head in shame and informed the audience why I had pine needles in my headband, and I proceeded to play Hadley's tune, "Life's a Song" on my out of tune mandolin. Of course I could not tune the damn thing prior to show time, as aside from picking through pine cones, I was kicking women out of the bathroom so I could search their stalls for my bloody car keys. I found the keys at the conclusion of that set though ... in my bag ... where I left them ... and we proceeded to play the show in tact.

It was a "Dark Skies" event which was amazing to be a part of and we played "Yeah Yeah Yeah" to honor the folks that keep alive the tradition that started in 1958 in Flagstaff!

We had lots of help with Jesse (my mutt) at the show (pictured)! I am so lucky to have such good people come not only to see the show ... but dog sit too like they did here!

After the show we made the long ride back home. We drove, drove, drove, drove, and rounded a corner and then drove some more.

Happy Trails, Terri

9/4/08 Taos area and Michael Hearne's Festival

2008-09-05T23:14:00.000-07:00

I got to the festival sight early so I could hear all the bands play. Michael Hearne's band SXSW started the festival out so no one would have to play first. This is actually a pretty cool thing to do since that's usually the time period an audience is getting settled and typically a hard slot to play. The Gougers played next. They were a mix of alt-country meets folks meets bluegrass. They are young musicians with deep roots and a great CD to back up what they do live. Ronny Cox (actor, musician, and stellar gent) played next. We've had the opportunity to do several shows with him this year and it's always a good time. He's fantastic as were his musicians that joined him. We played next and had a real good time. Blacktop Gypsy and Michael Hearne joined us for our last song and that made me happy too. After us were Trout Fishing in America who were simply on fire that night. Man, can they flat play! All us musicians back stage were doubled over in laughter at their antics. But ... they play fantastic and although there is humor in their music there's also depth and musicianship above and beyond what you might expect. After them Gary P Nunn played and most of the crowd then got up and danced. It was fun and also a joy to have KTAO around to MC the event. They are not only 100 percent independent but their station is powered by the sun to boot!

Unfortunately, I did not get photos but I did get shots from me eating the world's biggest burrito, the landscape, where I stayed, and of course ... me and Jesse. I love the little guy. You know, he's 10 and diabetic and well ... I just have to share them!

Happy Trails, Terri

9/3/08 On the road to Lubbock

2008-09-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

What a pretty drive this was. I think these windmills change our future in regards to energy use and beautify the countryside. It's quite amazing ... Terri

9/1/08 - Home Sweet Home

2008-08-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

We have a population boom of deer in our neighborhood. As they gather in my back yard (the area that's not fenced), Buddy "chases" them. When done, he strikes a pose or two for the blog.

Happy Trails, Terri

8/30/08 Wheelhouse Benefit - Deer Park, TX

2008-08-30T20:00:00.000-07:00

What should have taken 3 hours took 7 ... but we got there just in time to sound check and change before the show. As Lloyd washed his hair in the the bathroom sink of the men's room, I used the end of a lipstick tube for a mirror and put my make-up on in the ladies room. As I struggled to squeeze my jeans on in a bathroom stall built for a mouse, I thought how awkward moments like these were.

And then reality hit me. I felt so bad for those people displaced again because of yet another hurricane in their path. I was humbled by what I saw on my way to tonight's show. Row after row of folks heading towards danger ... as we were headed away from it.

After quite the struggle to get ready, I emerged from the ladies room in one piece. Shortly after, Lisa J started the show. I had never heard her before, but was so happy to get introduced to her music. She played solo and totally kept the crowd mesmerized by her songs.

Tonight's concert was a benefit for the "Wheelhouse," a non-profit that's been around since 1963. They have helped many a person get back on their feet and pursue a better life. I was happy to play for them. This day was all about folks doing good deeds for other folks and putting their needs before their own. I hope I was in some small way ... part of that better good.

Happy Trails,

Terri

8/30/08 On the way back to Texas - Hurricane Gustav

2008-08-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

We left early towards Texas to beat the evacuation efforts. But we were not early enough. We got on the interstate and sat ... and sat ... and sat in traffic. It was a mess. We could not eat. We could not use the restroom. We just sat. On the interstate ... watching EMS and other emergency vehicles racing towards the coming storm. It was quite the experience.

8/29/08 Red Dragon Listening Room - Baton Rouge, LA

2008-08-29T16:00:00.000-07:00

If you look up the website that's listed in the photo you will find that the place we played Friday will soon be torn down.

And in the place of this building built in 1939, will be a turning lane.

The show was so much fun. I could go on and on but it would sound trite. Martin Flannagan started the night out. He was with a stellar band and let's just say it was one of those shows that make the travel totally worth the while.

Thanks and prayers are with you folks as you battle the hurricane.

Terri

2008-08-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

Here are those photos ...

Me (in my "Girls With Guitars shirt) & Jana Pochop (GREAT job at the show Jana!)

2. Rain shots

8/16/08 KUT, Threadgills, Austin Texas

2008-08-21T16:37:00.001-07:00

Today was a busy one. We went on KUT with Kevin Connor at around noon. After that, we went to eat at one of my favorite restaurants in Austin, EZ's. It had to be a quick meal as I was beat! I then went to a friends house where I fell asleep and crashed so hard I woke with dents on my face from their quilt. I pulled myself together and headed over to Threadgills for another meal (way good) and soundcheck. Needless to say, it was raining ... and yes ... this was another show due to take place outside. Management came up and said more than likely they would have to call the show. Friends started calling my cell as they were told by Threadgills not to make the trip as more than likely the show would have to be rescheduled. I was a little sad as I never really play in Austin and aside from Cactus, Threadgills is my favorite place to play in that town. I had also worked really hard on the the new song arrangements and was wanting to play what I had spent the majority of my week rehearsing. Anyway, sure enough it started to rain pretty heavy around showtime. A crowd was there ready to see up play and so we joined Jana Pochop (who was our special guest) on her last few songs. This way, we would have a quick transition into our set and perhaps get a few songs in before the show was called. Jana sounded great and was a fantastic sport about it. It actually made for a pretty magical moment. We got in a few songs and as we played the rain let up. And as the rain let up we kept playing. I think there was no way we were going to get off that stage. So, we offered refunds for those that could not stick around in the slush-fest and duked it out in spite of the weather. It was a wonderful night. I'm pictured with Jana and then you can see the fuzzy rain shot with the sea of umbrellas and tarps behind me.
Happy Trails, Terri

8/15/08 Lake Bryan, Texas

2008-08-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

It rained pretty hard on the way to the gig. Since it's an outdoor venue I was kind of expecting the show to get called. But in spite of the weather, the show went on. Blacktop Gypsy started the show out. They are a female trio with great harmony, lyrics, singing, and musicianship. With Heather on fiddle, it was pretty amazing. She's one of the best fiddler's I've heard next to Alanah (Hot Club of Cowtown). In my book, fiddle is one of the hardest instruments to play in tune and in time and Heather was incredible to say the least. I really like this place and want to play there again. The fellow who owns it and runs it has good intentions and loves music and you can tell by the way he treats the folks that play there. Just FYI ... Lake Bryan is right near College Station. Lots of folks who live there have no idea that the lake even exists. Well, I suppose I've let the secret out of the bag.
Happy Trails,
Terri

8/15/08

2008-08-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

Last night I was rehearsing for the shows this weekend, (some of the new arrangements were kicking my butt) and Buddy my mutt curled up and went to sleep in my guitar case.

I found the news about Robert's passing depressing and a shocking reminder just how precious and fragile life is.

Needless to say, when I looked over and saw Buddy it made me feel better and actually brought a smile to my face!

Happy weekend, Terri Hendrix

August 2008

2008-08-14T10:24:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, I received the news that Robert Hazard passed away. I was greatly saddened by his death as I had just met him in June and even had the opportunity of doing a show with him and Craig Bickhardt at Puck in Doyletown, PA. We had all hit it off and were hoping to be able to have a rematch next year. You might know Robert as the guy who wrote one of the all time best female anthems "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." But I encourage you to dig deeper into his music and discover other jems like "Escalator of Life" or "Lucky Hat." He was a gentle spirit and a kind man. He will be missed. "Hey, Robert ... here's my shout out. I'm honored to have met you. You should read the emails I'm getting from people that had the opportunity to be your friend. You made a difference to many ... many lives. Including my own."

RIP ...

Terri

http://www.myspace.com/roberthazardmusic.com

7/26/08 Kemmerer WY and Logan, UT

2008-08-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

That Saturday, we woke up early, taught a songwriting workshop, and did a general Q&A in Kemmerer, WY. It was fun to demystify the music business and chat with folks who'd attended the festival. Being in a room full of musicians is always fun, but I wish I would have had a better cup of Joe to go with such an early start to what would pan out to be a busy day. I have never understood how folks can get making a pot of coffee wrong. When it looks more like water than coffee, chances are you did not put enough grounds in it. I wanted to tell the woman this at the gas station when I purchased the cup, but she looked like a professional wrestler, so I abstained. Anyway, a highlight was watching the Stairwell Sisters give a workshop on tap, ham-bone, and other lessons on dance. They are truly unique, and one of my favorite bands.

We did the workshop, then made our way towards Logan, Utah. It was a beautiful drive especially around the Bear Lake area. I tried to take photos but the roads were too windy and each pic came out a blur.

That night we played at the Eccless Center for the Folk Society. The show was a blast, but I had a hard time on a few songs second set. I've worked up several songs we don't play anymore and updated arrangements in our set list. "Hole in my Pocket" is one of many that received a facelift. I switched to mandolin on it and changed the groove, and it's hard to perform it the new way especially after playing it the old way for a decade.

Happy Trails,

Terri Hendrix

7/25/08 Kemmerer, WY

2008-08-10T20:59:00.000-07:00

July 25th
Oyster Ridge Festival in Kemmerer, WY

I met Lloyd yet again at 4:00 in the morning, to reach the airport in time for our early flight out of Austin. We get to the airport, bustle through security with guitars in tow, and before long we have flown, switched planes, suffered a layover, and landed in Salt Lake City, Utah.
We then then made the trek towards Kemmerer where the festival was to take place the next day. Last time we played this, we did it as a band. This time, we had a 90 minute festival set to occupy as a duo and I was more than a little nervous about it. I mean 90 minutes of hitting it hard at an outdoor festival is intense. Ask any musician, I ain't being a wimp ... that's bloody intense. To make matters worse, we don't really have a bunch of solos for fillers and most my songs are three minutes. My worries went unfounded as it all worked out okay and we help it together and breezed through almost thirty songs. I say almost thirty songs, since one was so far back from my archives, that I forgot most of it. Just when I thought I was gonna have to bust into "Skip to my Lou" from the repertoir of my childhood, we were given the one song warning
and drew our marathon set to a close. We still had fun though and enjoyed lots of good music. One of the groups that played that was there, an avante garde jazzy bluegrassy band called "Elephant Revival" was touring the country in a bus that had been converted to run on vegetable oil. On a side note, this festival has been named one of the best in the country. Rightfully so, as it truly is a beautifully ran event. You just have to really be in shape to play it!

Happy Trails, Terri

P.S.

Photos ... I had to take a photo of the "No Worries" cafe. I'm in front of the "Veggie" bus, and last ... me and Lloyd goofing off before we headed to Utah.

07/12/08 Euless, TX

2008-07-21T00:09:00.001-07:00

We played at the Texas Star Golf Course, in Euless Texas. It's always a good time playing there. I could go on and on about their food. If you are ever in Euless (come on, it's right around the corner from you ... "okay," perhaps not) make it a point to eat at that location. They have the best fish and mashed potatoes. It was so much better than what I've had to eat lately. When I'm not traveling I make a meal that will last at least a week. And that's what I eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Oh sure, I mix in the veggies and fruit (I hate fruit) to keep it somewhat "healthy." But let's just say by weeks end, I'm flat sick of it. I finally learned to make a good pot of beans and that was very unpleasant for obvious reasons. Anyway, escaping from my cuisine and eating there was true bliss. The show came off without a hitch and Carey Wolf was a pleasure to hear as was his band.

The only picture I have to share with you is one I can't show. It's of a young girl I noticed at a gas station, that was wearing a pair of the shortest shorts I've ever seen. They made "Daisy

Dukes" look like a muumuu. Anyway, as she bent over the check out counter and stuck her fanny in the air, I took a snapshot of the crime scene so I could show my friends who have young girls that age how bad those type of shorts look. When I see their daughters in them I cringe! I'm hoping my picture of this lass will serve as a reminder to tell their daughters that if I ever catch their lil' girls out in public in a pair of what could be perceived as butt-floss, I'll personally ground them.

Happy Trails,

Terri

7/10/08 San Marcos, TX Park

2008-07-20T23:57:00.000-07:00

We had a great time in the park in my hometown. We hope to be back next year. It was a joy to play there and especially see all the families that came out together and brought picnics and made an event out of it. This was really special ... Terri

Here's some photo's taken by Walter Morris:

July 2008

2008-07-07T13:19:00.000-07:00

Photo Credit from left to right of Lloyd, me, Paul, and Glenn:

Ron Baker (taken at Austin City Limits Festival in Austin, Texas)

First off,

I hope you had a wonderful and safe July 4th Independence Day weekend. I relaxed and spent the weekend with friends. I feel all caught up on sleep, laundry, and household chores and am ready to roll again.

As many of you know, I've had the honor and privilege of working with Glenn Fukunaga (Bass) and Paul Pearcy (Drums) for the past decade. We've had a whole lot of fun playing together and the contribution they've made to my records and live shows has been beyond anything I ever could have imagined. I think above all else, what has mattered most to me though is the type of people they were to work with which went above the norm as they were pro's. Simply put ... rock solid pro's.

But in June, Paul's health took a detour and although he's back on his feet our grueling road-work is no longer in the cards for him. He needs to mend and build his health back up. While we were in Washington, we received a call from Glenn that he needed to take care of health matters with his son, who lives in Hawaii. He had to fly out to Hawaii and he will miss the remainder of this month's shows.

We have found other musicians to fill the dates they can't play, and although it won't be them ... everyone we will be working with in the future will be of their same mold and caliber. They will be good, solid, kind, and creative musicians. I know you'll welcome whoever is on stage with me as you always have with genuine enthusiasm. And I sincerely appreciate that time proven fact.

It's been a great decade working together and although it's not my forte, I've learned to embrace change as it's inevitable in this career in which we live, eat, sleep, and breathe.

Please keep Glenn and Paul in your thoughts and prayers and as always, thanks for your continued support of my musical journey.

Happy Trails,

Terri Hendrix

6/29/08 Sunday Smithsonian Folklife Festival and Home

2008-07-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

My alarm beat me to Lloyd's wake-up knock on the door. I said "no way" to breakfast and slept in a few more minutes. I yet again dressed in stinky sweaty clothes and we made our way towards the shuttle bus. Lloyd had to get there extra early as he had a "Texas Talk" at the Opry House (the folks at the hotel think this is called "O-pri") on Pedal Steel. Lloyd used another steel players steel that was set up totally backwards from how he usually plays. He never mentioned one word of this on stage. He just played it like a maniac! I was so proud of him. I know there's a reason why he's considered one of the best steel players in the world ... but to see him in action was pretty amazing. He then jammed with guitar ace Texas Johnny Brown and the famous bajo sexto player from the Texmaniacs. I was pretty blown away. After his set, we played our final show on the dance hall stage and then boogied towards a van that had our luggage already packed and loaded in it so we could immediately get to the airport. Once inside, I hunkered down in the very back seat and pulled a Houdini and changed clothes in route to the airport. No one saw me as Lloyd was up front and I was practically kissing the floorboards. Man, one more minute in those clothes though and I was gonna wilt. They were so wet with sweat and caked with dirt I was having multiple gross out moments.

We get to the airport and I jump in line with all my gear. Within a matter of minutes I'm being pushed and prodded by about seventy people in a group from India. They are removing the pieces of cotton tape that makes up the aisles and forming their own line. The security guard is huffing and puffing and telling them "No, no, no." But they just smile and look down and pretend like they have no idea what he's saying. I watch as the elegantly dressed gentleman in front of me hides the end of the tape behind his back. He then scoots to the side as the last of three generations of his family members slide in front of me. The guard sees this and stomps his feet. I become very big very quick, bug out my eyes and stake claim on my original spot in line again. I'm hot, dirty, tired ... and I've learned how to hold my own with the Bhutanese on a shuttle bus. But I think going most in my favor is that ... I smell. Anyway, I'll be damned if the folks from India are gonna push me to the back of the line. I put my hands on my hips and spread my legs. I bone up. I'm big ... very very big. No one is getting by me. No one. Within a few minutes I get my boarding pass, give the folks from India a little bow ... and go meet Lloyd to get through security. Due to weather our flights been delayed but we make it home. I crawl into bed at the wee hours of the morning. What day is it? What month is it? I have totally lost track of time.

Happy Trails,

Terri

During our stay on the East Coast we went through:

1. 14 gallons of water

2. 4 boxes of Kashi Bars

3. Several pounds of almonds and cashews

4. Every pair of socks and underwear (twice)

5. 8 sets of guitar strings (we'd ruin them with sweat!)

6. 1 harmonica in the key of D

7. 1 tank top (too sweaty to ever wear again)