What We Should Be Listening To...Dawes

This is the last one of these for a while, I promise. Here is L.A. band Dawes at the Troubadour covering the Beatles-via-Joe Cocker, 'With a Little Help From My Friends."

I suspect their 'friends' off to side are members of Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeroes. You gotta dig the Woodstocky, split screen shots of the stage. Enjoy.



Please excuse the kick drum on this one, blame the soundboard man, but here is some of their own material."Peace in the Valley" the final cut from their debut North Hills

What We Should Be Listening To...Justin Townes Earle

Yes, he is the son of Steve Earle and yes he is legit. I'm not going to write a whole lot about this guy. It's better to just let him sing. Here is 'Mama Said' from what I suppose will be on his forthcoming Harlem River Blues.



Here is the title track and video from 2009's Midnight at the Movies:




Lastly, here is JTE with a cover of Gram Parson's 'Song for You.'



I don't know about you but it is nice to see some music that is sincere and not ironic and snarky like much of everything produced by the hipster bands as of late.

What We Should Be Listening To...Jeffrey Foucault

Wisconsin, as of late has been producing some pretty nice trout, when it is not raining, which may come as a surprise to troutier parts of the country, like Montana or Pennsylvania. Surprisingly, it has also been producing a slew of country/folk singer-song writers. There are Peter Mulvey and Hayward Williams, but Jeffrey Foucault, originally of Whitewater, seems to me to be a couple levels above either of these talented gentlemen.

He put out his first album Miles From the Lightning in 2001. He has since put out two more solo records, Stripping Cane and Ghost Repeater. The former contains a song called 'Mayfly' which makes me wonder about Foucault's possible fly fishing pastime. But, it is the song 'Northbound 35' which caught my attention. Here it is (I think his resemblance to Brett Favre would have at one time brought him great fanfare in WI. Maybe that is why he now lives in Austin, Texas?)




Here is Foucault in his home venue in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin:



Every time I listen to Foucault and then hear him speak, I wonder where that singing voice comes from. He has also done an album of John Prine covers called Shoot the Moon and an album of murder ballads with Mark Erelli called Seven Curses. Here is Foucault covering John Prine's 'Billy The Bum'

Rain, Rain Go Away...

According to the graygoatflyfishing.com, last night Western Wisconsin got six inches of rain. Some of the roads were washed out. Streams are chocolate and largely unfishable. On top of that it is 95 degrees today in Saint Paul and the dew point is 70 degrees.

I feel like getting Thai for dinner.

When is gets like this I go over to the corner coffee shop, take in THEIR air conditioning (so I don't run up expenses burning out my own window unit--I live on the top floor of a three story walk up and it's equally hot in the winter when everyone has their radiator wide open.

I've been re-reading the complete catalog of novels and novellas by Jim Harrison, at least the writings that contain copious amounts of trout fishing. Here's the list:

The English Major
True North
Returning to Earth
The Woman Lit By Fireflies
Julip
The Beast God Forgot to Invent
The Summer He Didn't Die
The Farmer's Daughter

If you are also a fan of food and drinking and carousing with women then he is a good author to read. He's filthy and funny. Though his settings and material seem to point to Hemingway, Harrison seems to have more in common with Faulkner, Welty, and Flannery O'Connor. Sense of place is important as it is with those Southern authors, but unlike Hemingway whose characters seem to have deeply hidden scars, the damage in the characters of Harrison's work is plainly evident and in fact the crux of his writing seems to be more about the effects of the scars on those close to key characters rather than the scars themselves. A good comparison would be to read Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, Harrison's True North, and O'Connor's Wise Blood. All the books deal with characters damaged by WWI and WWII. But, the way those scars manifest themselves is quite different. Plus, two of the three texts deal beautifully with the healing powerss of fly fishing for trout.

There you have it. Go to the library and read. Then when the sun gets low go fishing!

Here is Jim Harrison as profiled by the PBS News Hour Last Year.

Or watch it here:

Fat Bronze Is Still To Be Found

Check out the large arachnid on the bottom right. I'm not sure if it's a wolf spider or a fishing spider--I think it is the latter. I nearly walked right into it.

I love this river but it has been running really high, and since I am on foot, it's been tough to reach the really good holding water at times and even cross back and forth to fish an entire stretch effectively. No, brutes thus far this year. Just some solid fish.

Where I've Been...

It's been a closterphobic summer. My 6'6'' fly rod has been getting most of the work. The years of focusing mostly on smallmouth have spoiled me and I don't like fishing with other anglers present, and when it comes to trout fishing near the cities it's hard to find a creek without a well worn trail along it--even on those so called quiet little streams.

Heat , Small Bugs, and Sight Fishing

I've been fishing mostly teeny tiny brookie creeks and getting small brook trout with the odd twelve incher near dark. Though, every once in a while one of these things (look left) turns up. I'm a snob. I much prefer the natives. But, a guy like this does put a bend in my short 3 weight.

That's what there is to report. That is what this summer has been like--beyond a series of family related disasters.

Though the rivers north of the cities that I fish for smallmouth have either been running perilously high and skeeter infested, or low and the big fish have dropped back to larger systems, and a few have been fished out. I mean this literally. The economy in the middle of Minnesota resembles the 1930's and people are hungry. People have turned to fishing and shining deer to get by. One creek that runs crystal clear and holds, held some enormous smallmouth now has well-worn trails along its banks and nightcrawler cartons and beer cans strewn along its length. The pools where smallies were clearly visible are largely vacant. It seems that fifty years of economic prosperity (and easy credit) had brought about big boats, trolling motors, and fish finders. And, if that didn't work the seafood section at the supermarket. These rivers were largely untouched, except by a few weirdos like me.

Trout streams with their fussy browns and high densities seem to survive. That and it has been so damn hot that people don't seem to want to don their breathable Sims waders and sweat it out on the stream. Seems, nay is... The Driftless is a planty, itchy place and the heat can be miserable.