Good god.

Sigh...

Back in Chicago and I fly home this evening. My feet seem to have been surgically removed and replaced with two burning tender stumps of pulpy flesh. Remind me not to wear high heels for about three years.

Each night has been a tour of liquor-ish flavors what with margaritas, whiskey drinks, gin and tonics. Spent much time running around with the WEFM, (wee elusive Frenchmen) including Mr. Don Cavalli. That rocked. He's a feisty one...and so wee! Oui.

I am proud to announce several things regarding music.

1) Jerry Lee Lewis showed up and played his heart and soul and guts out. He really is a killer-diller, despite being about four-hundred and seventy-three.

2) I met Ike Turner and he was awesome. He was looking at me so I walked up to him and mumbled something akin to, "I-I-I- wanna mettchou." He was muscular and compact, wearing an expensive track suit and possibly the bling-iest Star of David necklace I've ever seen. I asked him if people recognize him a lot and he gruffed, "Yeh." He offered to get his picture taken with me and so there is now one with me, Ike Turner, Brad Fordham, Lisa Pankratz, and Marti Brom. When I get it I'll post it.

3) Barbara Lynn, soul chanteuse and ass-kicking thumb-picking left-handed funk guitarist, played this festival and I about died when she tore into "You'll Lose a Good Thing." Hot damn, but I love that song. She talked non-stop patter withthe audience, drawing them willingly into her personality until we all stood transfixed, temporarily rendered helpless by an urge to either scream out, "A-MEN, sistah!" or plunge headlong into background vocals, doo-wop hands, shiny costumes, and fake hair.

Whoops! Already got the fake hair bit covered. In fact, I'm already there.

Anyhow, I decided Barbara Lynn is the compendium of bad-ass women musicians. She really TRULY rocks that funky beat...plus she lives in Beaumont and I'm gonna find her and sit down and have a chat.

More highlights later. Mostly I just want to go home and see my kitties, my bed, my cell phone which I lost, and a couple of my friends. Yay.

Nappie time.

The man is my weak spot, sho' nuff.

Drum roll please....my soul search at this weekend's Austin Record Convention is a Ruth Johnson recording for the Stax Records subdivision, Volt Records.

Specifically: Volt 133--Ruth Johnson's I'll Run Your Hurt Away/Weak Spot.
Produced by Isaac Hayes and David Porter, 1965.

I must own it. With lyrics like the following, how could I not?
******************************
WEAK SPOT
There he is
Standin' in the crowd
Whenever I see him
I wanna scream " I love you" out loud
The man is my weak spot!
Sho' nuff, he's my weak spot
I said the man is my weak spot
(Oooh, I'm gonna love him
Oh, I'm gonna love him right now)

I look so silly
To see what he wants
My heart says to grab him
But the pride, the pride says don't

I tell you he's my weak spot
So glad he's my weak spot
I said the man is my weak spot
I can't help it, I can't help it
The man can't help it, the man, the man, the man
The man is my weak spot!


I see him
And things jump up in my mind
My love stays warm for him
All of the time
I can't help it, he's my weak spot!
Sho' nuff, he's my weak spot
So take your hands off my weak spot
Don't mess with my weak spot
Cause I love, I love my weak spot
And I need, I need my weak spot

****************************

The last time I went on a search like this, it was an obscure song by Julie Driscoll & Brian Auger, from a 1964-1968 UK mod/R&B compilation.

I found it, too. Anyone want to come with me?