Saturday, April 20, 2002

The Dolly Ranchers

Almost from the very inception of the Nye Beach Writers Series, in fact, clear back to the time when it was the Yachats Writers Series almost six years and a hundred and twenty-some writers ago, the idea has been kicked around that we should bring some singer-song writers into the mix. After all, even if they often rely on collaboration with back-up singers and musicians and technicians, at the heart of it, singer-song writers start every new composition as writers. Even if they start new work by wandering around the house at 3 a.m. or looking out the window of the car or tour bus or whatever on their way to the next gig, mumbling or humming or whistling, sooner or later they're going to have sit down and actually grind out the words.

Now, Carla's first choice was Bob Dylan. I can just hear him saying: I'm just up here, just me, as plain old Bobby Zimmerman, poet.

We thought we might be able to sell a few tickets. So far, however, Bob's been what can only be termed as unresponsive. In retrospect, it may be a blessing. I'm not sure we have enough room here for all his bodyguards.

And, of course, there was talk of Barry Manilow. I'm not sure we have enough room here for his ego...

So we came down out of the clouds and wound up saying to ourselves, hey, who is new and fresh, with echoes of traditional, wandering troubadour open highway ethos, a dash of grunge, yet cutting edge, alt-country, all-girl with a hobo-jungle, ran-away-and-joined-the-One Railroad Circus of New Mexico, avant-garde twist of wry, Santa Fe impassioned blue-grass, high-plateau honky-tonk, chili pepper energy?

There's only one group like that. Please welcome The Dolly Ranchers...

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