A Bar in Austin, TX (Guitar Tongue)

We had another free night in Austin and wanted to hear some more live music. The previous night we discovered Sixth St., which is loaded with bars and dives and music halls. So we strolled into a big, open old bar where a band was already at work. The feature that night was the house band plus “friends.” The house band didn’t need the backup; their blues performances would demolish plenty other acts in comparison. Yet, because they’re a few of the flock of talented musicians in Austin, they essentially work for free, presumably out of love either for the act or the music. All the individuals involved added some peculiar character to the band—some more than others.

Mike Milligan, a spry black man, led the band’s first incarnation with a sharp voice and energetic harmonica solos. He bopped around, plugged the band, introduced songs. He sang some fine tunes about the Mississippi and having the blues. The group’s instrumental star, the guitarist, nodded along, looking like a young Robert Plant except with lots of baby fat. He’d step up and wedge solos into the songs, working the solos until the band caught up in intensity and he could explode with musical energy. The younger drummer and the bassist, who looked like he belonged on the Sopranos, kept the rhythms moving with tight precision.

At this point the band pivoted. Things were about to get a little more surreal. Several guys left and others took their places. First, an obese man in a silk kimono shirt (who looked a lot like Barney Frank) took over the guitar and vocals. He sang like he thought he was Roy Orbison, quivering up and down scales while strumming his blues guitar. Barney gave us probably four or five songs. I thought this was the height of live entertainment, but I was wrong. Senator Frank eventually tired and was replaced by an Asian man, dressed in black with a red tie, who’s surely of AARP age.

Like all the others, this guy could kill with his instrument (electric guitar) and was a great singer. He sang slightly dirty R&B with a Stevie Ray Vaughn drawl and cackle. Then he played one of his own compositions with the punchline “Who says a Chinese man can’t play the blues?” “I’ve been living in Texas all my life” he sang, “and people still ask me where I’m from!”

His next move was a shocker, though. He jumped over the stage banister and grabbed a metal chair off the floor. For this solo he balanced the chair in his left hand, using the leg as a slide. It wasn’t bad, either! Instantly the audience were off their feet in his face, smartphones in hand, capturing photos the bizarre scene.

Upping the ante, the Chinese bluesman broke into a guitar solo played with his tongue. It was awkward watching the guy standing with his guitar pressed against his face, playing the solo and holding his picking hand free. I just hope he’s up to date on his tetanus shots. He went in for round two in the next song. Maybe the crowd didn’t react sufficiently. This time he hopped onto the stage railing, flipped his guitar horizontally, stuck his tongue out and slobbered another solo. Remarkably the tongue solos seemed just as good. I laughed when I glanced at a table nearby and a young blonde girl, obviously on a date, cringed in disgust. They fled the scene within minutes.

- September 27, 2010