Tunes and Tacos and cover bands

Aug. 14, 2003

Dear Julie,

Every August, our St. Louis friends Randy and Sally throw a party called Tunes and Tacos. It roughly coincides with Randy's birthday but is really just an excuse for Randy and all the musicians he knows to jam. He knows lots of musicians.

Randy has played in rock 'n' roll bands ever since he was in high school. Most have been cover bands, but Randy has never been content just to play other people's songs. Boxcar Willie recorded one of his originals years ago. He wrote the best songs his current band plays. Someday a record producer will hear "When I Get Over You" and faint.

Randy and Sally and their two teenage sons, Jordan and Noah, had a band for awhile. Music provided the means for them to hang out together. Now Noah and Jordan have their own bands. The essential love of making music has been passed on.

At Tunes and Tacos, the house's back porch is transformed into a stage filled with a drum kit, congas, amps, a sound system. There must be 30 guitar cases in the garage. The huge back yard is lined with row upon row of lawn chairs and coolers. Grandfathers and teenagers and babies settle in for 10 hours of rock 'n' roll.

DC had never been to a Tunes and Tacos before last weekend. She wanted me to bring my guitar. I had been to a Tunes and Tacos before, and I refused. Randy and his musician friends have been crazy about guitars since they were boys and still are. They play in bands people pay to hear. Many are incredibly good musicians. I pretend I'm Carlos Santana in the privacy of my home. I know the difference.

Musicians are members of a brotherhood that doesn't have a secret handshake. There are dues.

Tunes and Tacos also is a gathering of a larger tribe of people who love Randy and Sally. That's a lot of people, on any given year between 100 and 200.

The day has a "Big Chill" feeling without the soul searching.

One of my ex-girlfriends was there. Phoebe and I knew each other during the dark days of disco. We used to go to clubs with flashing lights almost every night because Bruce Springsteen and the Clash and Elvis Costello had not yet resuscitated rock 'n' roll. There was nothing else to do.

Phoebe is a stay-at-home mom now. She introduced me to each of her three children. I introduced her to DC. That's how it is.

As the musicians played, Sally kept the taco makings stocked and worked the crowd in a sombrero. Randy was not around. We learned he wasn't feeling well. He appeared eventually, looking like someone who belonged in bed. But Randy wasn't going to miss Tunes and Tacos.

We are reaching the age where good health no longer is taken for granted. I was about to confide my blood sugar issues to someone dear to me when she told me she has breast cancer.

The positive part of the big chill is accepting that we must take care of ourselves and each other.

Now a second generation is performing at Tunes and Tacos, friends of Jordan's and Noah's who play music. They haven't usurped their fathers yet, but they aren't afraid to show their parents what they have learned, either. One group played a funny tune called "We're Just a Cover Band." That's how all of us start out.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.