For Uncle Tony

Aloha, mahalo, and rest in peaceful ocean waves to our legendary Uncle Tony.

How lucky was I to spend an entire summer in the early 80s with him and Aunt Corinne. We explored Big Island backroads in his shaky-ass heap of a jeep. We did water things (he surfed; I waded by the shore). And, as we laughed about a million times over the years, we sipped martinis (my first ever!) during a special night out at a posh French bistro, even though I wasn’t quite the legal drinking age just yet.

A few days after Uncle Tony passed, I shared a few words at the start of my concert in at Tiny Telelphone recording studio in Oakland. He didn’t want a big send-off, and I can respect that, but I needed to pay tribute in my own way… and I know others will too.

Here’s to you uncle.

A Tribute to Mose Allison

No Mo’ Mose

The internet gave me quite a shock this morning*. I was bopping around on some of my favorite pages and landed on the official Mose Allison website. I hadn’t been there in a while and was surprised to find the following note:

“After 65 years of touring Mose Allison has retired from live performance. He thanks all his devoted fans for the love and support they have given him over the years.”

I read the note a few times to make sure I understood it correctly. No more Mose. How could it be? Sure, I realize that Mose is no spring chicken. But, even into his early 80s, Mose kept coming around and putting on great shows. Seeing Mose play, for me anyway, was something I counted on year in and year out. I’d be exaggerating if I said attending a Mose Allison concert was as vital as breathing and eating, but not by much.

I first saw Mose in concert in the mid-1980s. Like many other rock-n-rollers, I first heard about Mose thanks to The Who, who covered his “Young Man Blues” on their Live at Leeds album. At about the same time, I was getting a lot of exposure to Mose from my uncle, who would regularly spout off some of Mose’s trademark one-liners.

Your mind is on vacation, but your mouth is working overtime.

Your molecular structure is really something fine, a first-rate example of functional design.

Ever since the world ended, I don’t go out as much.

Hello there, universe. Do you know what you do to me?

My uncle even tried to sing like Mose, though he sounded more like Peter Lorre to me. It didn’t matter. I loved hearing those tunes.

My first Mose concert happened by chance. While walking to a party at the College of San Mateo, I saw a flier announcing that Mose was playing a fundraiser that night for the college radio station. Hot damn, I thought, what luck—a chance to see Mose Allison!

I caught Mose’s set that night, and I was hooked. He played again the following night; I went again the following night. After that, I tried to catch Mose whenever he came to the Bay Area.

I’ve seen Mose perform about 30 times since then. Most of the shows were at small clubs, which gave me a great opportunity to appreciate a true master at work.

The last time I saw Mose was not at a small club, but at Carnegie Hall. He played “Young Man Blues” as part of an all-star tribute to The Who. Of all the times I’d seen Mose over the years, he never played this song, so it was a treat to hear him dust it off for the special occasion.

What is it about Mose that I love so much?

Well, I love the way he plays piano. And I love the way he quietly calls out his tunes to his rhythm section. I also love the way he combined blues and jazz with his songwriting talent to create a truly unique style of music.

What else? I love the way he places his watch on the corner of his piano to keep track of the time of his sets. And I love the way he gives credit to the writers of the tunes he covers—great songwriters like McKinley Morganfield (better known as Muddy Waters), and the former governor of Louisiana Jimmie Davis, and Sonny Boy Williamson, and Nat King Cole. And others. I love that he wears tennis shoes and sometimes a baseball cap.

I love how humble Mose is on stage. I’ve never met him, but I imagine he’s like that offstage, too. He doesn’t say much of anything between songs other than letting the audience know who wrote a song if it wasn’t his. And where the songwriter came from. And at the end of each show, I love the way Mose thanks the audience for their appreciation of his music. Always humble. Always gracious.

But mostly I love Mose’s songs. So full of wit, intelligence, and perspective. So original. And the way he plays them live—with his one-of-a-kind delivery—always makes me smile, or shake my head at his turn of phrase, or even laugh out loud.

One night after a show at the 19th Broadway Club in Fairfax, California, Mose was standing by the bar as I was leaving. I didn’t want to bother him by asking if I could have my picture taken with him or anything like that, though I wish I had. Instead, I quickly said “thank you” for the show. And he quietly thanked me back for coming to the show. Again, always humble. Always gracious.

So, after 65 years of performing his singular brand of music, Mose has retired from live performance. Man, I’m going to miss that cat.

(*Note: Mose Allison passed away on November 15, 2016. I wrote this tribute in 2013 upon learning that he had retired from touring.)