Nothing but the full Monty. Country-blues star Monty Byrom still owes me five bucks - By N.L. Belardes

When talking small bills, like five bucks or less, your friends are not allowed to pay your debts. No way. That’s why I threw the five bucks given to me right at Monty Byrom while he stood onstage ripping through a guitar solo Saturday night…

I left the Condors game early—something I never do—but I had to keep a promise to hang out and listen to Monty Byrom at Fishlips restaurant. I entered around 9pm, snuck over to the wall by the pool tables and nestled myself in for a musical evening. Matildakay was in the house. She brought over the first of three margaritas for a relaxing evening; we were joined byFlower in the Dale as the night wore on.

Monty said “hello” before the show, thanking me for making it to the gig. “I wasn’t going to flake on you twice,” I said. I had been promoting the KooKooNauts on the last Saturday hockey band night during home games for the Bakersfield Condors and missed a Byrom gig. I stayed to watch the whole game that night. Not this time. Besides, the Condors were whooping those hapless fish-flop Victoria Salmon Queens 2-0.



It wasn’t long before Monty took the stage. His brother was at drums; there was a guest guitarist from LA who had written a few Garth Brooks songs. He also shared some raging guitar solos during the night. I can’t remember the bass player’s name. I think he and the drummer were both in the popular country band, Big House. Forgive me. I don’t write notes and just go from memory. Later they were joined by fellow guitar picker, Billy Russell. “Only a few people in the world can play like Billy Russell,” Monty boasted. He’s such the showman. “I first saw him when he was a kid, so I called him Billy the Kid. And he could play just like he does now. But he never liked to be called that…”

During their two sets Monty played Big House tunes that I’m still learning all the names; he played Jimmy Hendrix “Little Wing”; he played the Beatles “Dear Prudence”; he played classic 80s songs that I don’t even want to think I know the names of, and he even played Wilson Pickett’s “Mustang Sally” in a tribute to the recently deceased singer. “I met Wilson Pickett and he was one of the nicest gentlemen I have ever met,” Monty said after talking some history about seeing Pickett smoke a big fat roach backstage where Rita Coolidge was, who I think he was related to at one time. I told Monty after the show, “You taught me about cover songs tonight.”

Sure, Monty may have been performing songs like “Mustang Sally” for more than 25 years. Sure, he has perfected sets that he can change on a dime. There’s got to be something new in there, right? Like Mento Buru, Monty is a performer, with songs practiced to perfection. Sure, the night was great, but I’m waiting for a new CD he mentioned recently. I want the full Monty…



After his first song of the night, “Little Wing” I sat amazed. I’m from the generation that heard Sting’s rendition, thinking the ex-Police frontman’s version was a great jazzy song built off a foundation of Hendrix’ original version. Then I heard Monty Byrom’s guitar-rippin’ blues-rock version full on with guitar solos that tugged my heartstrings like some finger-pickin’ Stevie Ray-Hendrix hybrid angel that pulled me right to Monty’s heavenly riffs.

Oh yes, there are guitarists in Bakersfield, and then there are kings of guitar: Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, Stereotactic’s Cam, Joel from Gramercy Riff, Billy Russell, Pablo Alaniz (Norfolk/Diary), and some others I’m forgetting to name (a lot of metal guys who can shred). And then there’s Monty Byrom, another one of the kings, and perhaps one of the best guitarists ever out of Bakersfield. Remember, Monty Byrom holds a triple crown of success in the music industry with Billy Satellite, Eddie Money and Big House. He’s written countless songs for countless musicians and rips at the guitar in a blues-rooted fast-picking style that lends to sometimes 3 and 4 guitar solos per song. “The Guitar Center gave me the wrong strings. It was too easy. I’m used to playing with strings that are like telephone poles,” Monty laughed after the show. “That would be like you writing a novel that was just too easy to write.”

Didn’t matter. What I saw last night was nothing short of a legend in rock playing a guitar like I haven’t seen in quite a while.

His bass player walked over after their first set. “Aren’t you tired from all that work?” I said.

“I’m going to die doing this. I might as well stay up there,” he smiled.

After a handful of Monty’s own hits, he tore into Wilson Pickett’s “Mustang Sally”. Now I normally hate cover bands. They bore me to no end. If you can’t be original, then why spend so much creative energy learning someone else’s songs? I might as well just re-type someone’s novel instead of writing my own. But this was a crowd of mostly folks who were teenagers during the 1970s. They love the old hits. Purple Rain came on during a break and some guy I swear was re-living his Prince past and was going to have a drunken orgasm right there at the next table. Geez, get a room with a Prince song why don’t you? Monty’s publicist mentioned it was a young crowd. Not by my standards. I was hanging out at the Lostocean show the other night. Not a grey hair in the house other than mine. Monty’s crowd was a mature audience, a Geritol crowd mixed with only a few young folk in their early to mid-twenties, including the guys from Seed.



Anyway, Monty re-formed my thinking about cover songs. He didn’t take covers and try to redo the original sounds of popular old tunes. He literally takes songs, like the Beatles “Dear Prudence” and makes them into magical blues-driven, solo-ripping guitar-heavy songs that captivate a dancing happy crowd. Wow!

During “Mustang Sally” a stranger came up to me. I think he had dark hair mixed with grey and wore a black shirt. He pushed five bucks in my face and said, “Here, now you and Monty are even.”

“No way. Even?”

“Sure. Take it. Monty owes you five bucks. Consider him paid up.”

“I can’t take your money,” I said, trying to hand the five-dollar bill back to the man.

He wouldn’t take it.

“No. Monty’s not paid up.” I said as he threw the money onto the table next to where I sat. “He can pay his own debts.” I grabbed the five bucks but he hurried back into the crowd. Well I wasn’t going to take that. The way I saw it, Monty owed me the money for that coffee, not some stranger. So I took the five dollars, wadded it up, headed over to the stage and tossed it at Monty while he stood onstage ripping through a guitar solo. It was a lucky shot. The wadded up five-dollar bill bounced right at his feet. He instantly turned and smiled—his guitar ripping through a solo. When the song ended he picked up the money, opened the cash so as to check to see if it were counterfeit, then said, “I want to thank Nick Belardes for the five bucks,” and shoved it in his pocket.

Now I was wondering if Monty had put this stranger up to presenting me with the cash. A nice trick. If he did, I wasn’t accepting and Monty would still owe me five. If Monty didn’t know anything about the near transaction then he would owe me 10 bucks, cause I just gave him another five. I liked that idea.

I went to speak with Monty after the final set and he stood close and suddenly shoved his hand into my pocket, nearly playing pocket pool with the family heirlooms, but more importantly, bestowing me again with the five dollars that was never his to stuff into strange pockets to begin with…

What was this? I was now five bucks richer as Monty said, “My friends watch out for me.”

“No way. Your friends can’t pay your debts. You still owe me five, Monty.”

He laughed. “I thought that was a mouse running over my foot.”

No, just me causing problems during an amazing set of music by one of the best guitarists I have ever met. As for the five bucks. We’ll keep arguing over that one for a while. Like I said, I want the full monty…

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Monday, January 23, 2006. You can leave your response.