Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Across from the bus station in Boston in the early 70's there was a Rockabilly/Country bar - It might have been named "Hillbilly Heaven" or something like. The letters spelling out the name along the roofline were made of thin birch logs - you know the faux-rustic type I mean.
This place was the real deal, though. Seedy, not touristy - Guys in string ties, odd belt buckles. Those who had cowboy hats had small ones, not the big wide-brimmed ones from the movies. It looked more than a little dangerous for a long-haired college boy to go in, but I gave it a try in the dark, on the greasy floors. Both times I went in it was rockabilly, not country music that was being played.
Sign of the times: In my arrogance, I thought that I was more in touch with "authentic" people's music because I listened to Leadbelly and Woody Guthrie, while they were just rather old-fashioned losers from the south hanging on to this artificial electrified three-chord country guitar music.
What a poseur I was, eh?
Posted by Assistant Village Idiot at 10:12 PM