I ate at the Memphis Smoke for supper, where I had blackened catfish with creole rice, washing it down with a cold draft. As we were eating, a band unexpectedly went on stage. It was a competition held by the , with five bands competing to go to the competition to be held in Memphis.
The first band was all middle-age white guys. After jamming for a couple of minutes they announced the singer, who walked up with a black cowboy hat and leather pants: a tiny, frail looking black women about 50 years old. She sat down on a stool, picked up an acoustic guitar, then she started belting out one of the best damn blues melodies I ever heard. Awesome. They went downhill after that: the guitarist was dull and the tunes were unimaginative, except the first tune. They should’ve quit after the first song.
That was the first time I’ve been to a pub in about 15 years. It was cool, though too damn loud, which is the main reason why I don’t go to pubs and concerts now.