Riffs, Roams and Raves: A Weekly Column

Riff: Redbird Listening Room

Everywhere I look lately, I see musicians wearing The Redbird Listening Room t-shirts lauding a small venue in New Braunfels for serious music fans. Last week it hosted bluegrass and Americana singer and songwriter Jim Lauderdale from Nashville. Other musical luminaries on the roster in November were Jeff Plankenhorn, Dale Watson, Shake Russell and Bob Schneider. If you haven’t made the trek to this rustic haven on Elliot Knox Blvd., make a point to see one of your favorite singer songwriters there and buy a t-shirt to commemorate your visit.

Much like the Bugle Boy in LaGrange, the Redbird is small and cozy. It is owned by singer songwriter Dallas Burrow and his family. You might have seen Dallas perform at Wings Over Wimberley, where he burned up the stage with his own brand of country music. While waiting for Jim Lauderdale’s performance, I chatted with the very cordial Carolyn, Dallas’ mom, and sister Hilary. Show opener Timbo gave the crowd a sampling of his own music before Jim took the stage at 8 p.m.

There is something in the music literature called “the Jim Lauderdale phenomenon” that appears in Jim’s bio. The term was coined by singer-songwriter Kim Richey and mentioned in an April 2000 article in The Tennessean by writer Peter Cooper. It is an ironic reference to the fact that Lauderdale was nominated for a Grammy for his work with artist Ralph Stanley but was released from a record deal with RCA not long after. He was also released from contracts with Warner Bros., Columbia and Atlantic Records. The article notes that many country artists that were signed to major labels in the 1990s failed to get radio airtime and had their contracts dropped after making one or two albums. The problem became endemic in Nashville during this period when a lot of good music was being created and recorded, but the megastars dominated the airwaves.

Since 1986, Jim has released 31 studio albums. Not only has he collaborated with a long list of musicians, his songs have been recorded by dozens of artists, like George Strait, Elvis Costello, Blake Shelton, the Dixie Chicks, Vince Gill and Patty Loveless. The audience who heard him in New Braunfels were staunch fans who knew his catalog frontwards and back. Dallas and Timbo sat in the audience and hung on Jim’s every word and song. It’s no wonder, with stories like Jim’s, that “saying goodbye to the Nashville music machine” is sometimes a blessing in disguise.

Roam: New Braunfels and Wurstfest This week I gave in to a Fall tradition and attended the colossal Wurstfest in New Braunfels. I was tempted to capitulate to a grumpy inner voice that reminded me that large crowds fueled by alcohol can often be tricky, but since I’d plunked down $25 for a ticket, $25 to ride a shuttle, and another $20 for drink tickets, my intrepid nature prevailed. I climbed aboard a Wurst shuttle, a lurching school bus that inadvertently offered a complimentary kidney massage, that picked me up from my hotel and drove me to the festival. Misting rain and temperatures in the fifties necessitated a jacket that I paired with the most comfortable boots in my closet. I expected to light up my Fitbit.

Indeed, the festival’s footprint yawns over more than seven acres and is situated at the headwaters of the Comal River. More than 250,000 people attend the ten-day event each year that officially began in 1961 by the city’s meat inspector who wanted to “honor sausage.” A bald statement if I ever heard one, the festival preserves the area’s considerable German heritage with music, singing, authentic Bavarian gear and food. Music is performed on five different stages with returning acts that hail from as far away as Austria and Germany. I heard an astonishing amount of German spoken during the three hours I strode the grounds, dodging revelers with pitchers of beer and eating sausage, pork chops and other items on handheld sticks. In each of the covered music areas, long rows of picnic tables provided ample seating for drinking, eating and singing. The aisles became dance floors for the obligatory “chicken dance” and entertaining personal polkas. Merrymakers sang along to traditional German tunes interspersed with spirited renditions of “YMCA” and “Country Roads” by John Denver. Enterprising drinkers built six foot tall sculptures of upended beer pitchers that resembled towering saguaro cacti that garnered cheers from appreciative passersby. Many people wore lederhosen, dirndles and jaunty alpine hats adorned with pins from previous Wurstfests. Other popular headgear among the younger set included goofy hats made to resemble beer mugs. A large marketplace with everything from German-made clothing and shoes to superb Native American jewelry from Kingsville, TX coexists with the food and music venues and an area just for kids. The overall mood was jolly and good natured, helped by the abundant security and excellent coordination by organizers. After three hours, I reluctantly climbed aboard my Wurst wagon, happily worked out from trekking the grounds and dancing to the oompah beat floating in the crisp air. It was an exceptionally good time and well worth its berth on a Hill Country bucket list.

Rave: Buttermilk Cafe This gem of a restaurant in a New Braunfels strip mall earned its place on any food enthusiast’s “must do” list for those in search of a superior breakfast and brunch experience. With a handsome decor modeled on a French country brasserie, I dined on shirred eggs and “Strawberry Romanoff,” a dish made with sweetened sour cream over fresh strawberries. Both were delectable and utterly memorable. It is the creation of Chef Carol Irwin who writes on her website that it is “Market-fresh comfort food prepared by people who love to cook and who love to eat.” Go early as the tables fill fast, but don’t count on visiting on Sunday, as the restaurant is closed that day. Add this treasure to your culinary bucket list. You won’t be sorry.