The Branson Rundown

Well, back from Branson. And when it comes to a travelogue, I quote Inigo Montoya, “Let me essplain. No. There is too much. Let me sum up.” We may not have done Branson from the rooter to the tooter, but we did get around. Here’s a quick look at the highlights reel.

Silver Dollar City: SDC is Disney for hillbillies. And I say that with love in my heart. It’s rides and music and a liberal dose of shopping in the hills of MO. The best part of any trip to SDC for my parents is the live music (mostly bluegrass, country, western swing and gospel that would make Mother Theresa turn atheist, IMHO) and you can do 5 shows in a day, easy. The best show of the day for me was a band called Big Smith (after the overalls brand), who did new-grass country, with a few swing tunes and some funny songs like “Ten-inch, three-speed, oscillating fan.” I’m not a big new-grass fan, but I’d pay to see them again.

Shopping: We lucked into the War Eagle Mills craft festival, which is one of the biggest craft fairs in Missouri. And it was amazing. Dozens of huge tents filled with artisans selling handmade wares. I went a little nutty buying hand-carved wood toys for my nephews. But what are nephews for if you can’t buy them a hand-carved cricket pull toy? And it was nice to see so much genuine craft work. Too much of what sells at Branson’s “craft” malls (which I started to call crap malls) is imported country/cutesie crap that you could get anywhere. I prefer my crafts made by real people, thank you kindly.

I also found a real candy store in old town Branson. AH-ah-AHHHH! Candy heaven and a sugar freak’s dream. They had taffy in a bout 50 flavors (popcorn, butter rum, pomegranate, cappuccino). And they had genuine Squirrel Nut Zippers. I had heard of them because of the band by that name, but never seen them in real life before. If you haven’t had them, get you some. They’re kind of like a cross between a Bit-O-Honey or a Mary Jane and a caramel. Mmmmm. They’re my Pop’s new favorite. Of course he calls them Squirrely Nuts.

The Big Shows: On Wednesday we went to the Oakridge Boys. And they put on a big show. I had forgotten how many of their old songs I really like. I used to love “Y’all Come Back Saloon” when I was a kid. And darned if I didn’t still know most of the lyrics – “She played tambourine, with a sliver jingle, and she must have know the worlds to at least a million tunes . . .” Love it. And in the second half they did a bunch of songs from their new album, before segueing into Elvira and Bobbie Sue and American Made. The first new song they did had me saying “Oh, no, they di-n’t!” But damned if they didn’t cover 7 Nation Army. For real. And it was dang good. The bass singer did the “bahm, buh, bahm-bahm, buh, bahm-BOM” part. And he can still get wwwwwwaaaaaaayyyy down there. What a kick.

Then on Thursday, it was Roy Clark. Roy is in his 70s, and his voice isn’t what it was. But he can still pick the hell out of a banjo and a guitar. And he surrounds himself with a truly talented backing band who can step up and sing a few songs so that Roy can sit and play back-up for a tune or two. The real stand out was Justin David, who was apparently the 4th place finisher on Nashville Star. And if he came in 4th, I’m scared of whoever was first, because he was just amazing. A demon on mandolin, fierce on the fiddle, and he could play the guitar and write his own songs. And he was right purdy too. If he doesn’t make it big after apprenticing with Roy Clark, country music can just shut up about appreciating talent, cause it’s all talk. Kid deserves to be a big star.

Then, back home, it was another Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers show at the Dallas House of Blues (and by the way, kudos, HOB for adding Guiness to the fine, fine libations you offer). Ahhhh. Sweet. They are brave, brave men for opening up the show to all requests. Peace Corps fans are a vociferous bunch. But, as always, an immensely satisfying show. [On a sidebar note, when you carry a big bag to a show, and like to dance, after the 10th time your purse slaps me in the ass, you should at least tell me “good game”.] It was like that final shot of tequila that you raise with your friends to cap a great night. And finished my vacation just right.

Sigh. Back to the salt mines.