Sioux City, Nunez, Dante, N.L. at Azul's - By N.L. Belardes

There was so much drama Wednesday night at Azul’s funky blue-lit hangout I can’t even see straight two mornings later. Oh, what was the drama? Was it “that” kind of drama… oh yes it was—you know it. I won’t tell exactly what it was but there were underlying tones of ‘bad vibe’ following old N.L. around that rivaled Enrique Fuentes ‘Rico’ and ‘Paulo’ machinations. It involved salsa and chips, an “old man dating” statement, my dogging the work-flow motions, poor dinner judgment and so on… but enough of that…

I showed up, leaned against a wall only to see Dante Esperanza romping around the stage like some psychedelic cowboys on the loose, cornered by the natives, and singing their way out of trouble. Dylan had his shirt off, the music suddenly ended, the crowd cheered, and I stood hopeless—not even time to snap a photo of the mayhem. Oh well, at least their lead man had dodged prison once again. I looked for Dante’s supreme leader a little while later but couldn’t find him…

Next up, Sioux City Sarsaparilla—Jimmy Holliday goes electric! Yes, it’s true. Sioux City has upped its alt country-folk rock ante a notch by going electric and I dig it. Jimmy Holliday was looking haggard; that would be ‘Merle Haggard’ as he sported a rather wild man Buck City beard as if he’d just ridden the rails across the mad desert, took a flatbed truck from Tehachapi, zoomed down the Greenhorn Mountains and stepped off in downtown Bakersfield in his flat shoes and windblown beard—just to play a ditty. “Got a light?” I expected him to ask. But that’s not Jimmy Holliday’s style. The real guy is just a young Merle-Buck guitar-slinger screamer ready to turn Buck City on fire with his bluegrass-punk that literally gets the crowd dancing the two-step. He’s a friendly guy, always ready to shake hands and will talk to you about his sarcastic lyrics, if you’re brave enough to let him.


Sioux City Sassy electrified!!!!


Alt-country Folk with a ZAP!

With his sad-boy eyes staring into the cigarette-stained night he crooned to the crowd only the way he can scream lyrics; his songs that make you think he’s a Descartian-inspired musical chieftain of the Bakersfield city Bluegrass rock blues. He sang a long set of crowd pleasers while I rustled up a drink at the bar and be-bopped to his style while a few gals danced two-step jigs.

Last I saw Sioux City it was an awe-inspiring performance at Montgomery World Plaza just before Frisco’s Bart Davenport—that Maroon Cocoon hipster of “Quiet is the New Loud” and “dreampop lounge” sounds. Bart was followed by a cameraman . I talked to him about his HV camera. We talked sound and images for a few minutes then parted ways. Bart played a steady solo acoustic show. I leaned against a banister and quietly enjoyed his acoustic and singing ability. Later, Bart was mesmerized by the emo-sounds of Lostocean who played last. He called a friend, held up a cell phone and in his Britishy accent said, “My goodness, listen to this emo. It’s the same beat, the same song over and over; but they do it so well…oh yes, they’re good at it…” Not sure I agreed with Bart’s fascination over same tempo beats; maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a drummer; he just doesn’t believe in one, although there are drums on a few tracks on Maroon Cocoon. He soon left to spend the night at the Dalloways…

Nunez followed up with his Spanish ballads. His head hung low over his guitar while he strummed, he looked up only to talk to the audience in Spanish during and in between songs. The crowd began to thin. It was late, but Nunez still retained a crowd as he sang song after song, crooned and let out a few energetic native screams. I talked to his friend Katie, a dark-haired cigar-smoking local writer who just sent me a piece on “Shoe-gazing” music. She had been talking to me about shoe-gazing that night at Azul’s when she accidentally dumped her purse on the ground. I bent as if to pick up the contents, but she gave me one of those, “You won’t like what you’ll find” stares. I smiled, wondered if this was what shoe-gazing was all about—staring at our feet where the contents of her purse lay. Didn’t matter, it all happened again in a few minutes: crash! dump! She repeated the same stare and I felt enlightened to know not to touch the purse's voided contents... She told me about introducing me to an old friend of Peter Williams. He must not have showed, because no one approached me to talk about the sadness of Peter Will. Just who was Peter Will that the Bakersfield Music Scene killed? Ah, someone’s going to tell me more one of these days… in the meantime, I’ll hang out at Azul’s, listen to Djs Mike and AJ of the Soulsteppers and down a few ciders.


Nunez seranading me with a Latino love song.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Friday, August 19, 2005. You can leave your response.