Eddy Bonte

Two Stories

‘Slow Dance’, ‘For A Reason’, ‘Elmo’s Check’ and ‘Big Al’ are the four unissued songs featured on the home-made CD that Hook Herrera sold at his shows a few years ago. As is often the case with Hook, each song tells a story he lived. So here are two stories, told by Hook Herrera himself: ‘Slow Dance’ and ‘For A Reason’. Anyone interested in Hook Herrera, just visit www.hookherrera.com

1 Slow Dance

slow dance is a song that i love.

i had the story for a while.

it´s a story as are all my songs. the main player, the narrator, is a musician. he asks if he could please have this dance. you see most musicians love to dance but don´t hardly ever get the chance.

it´s taking place in the country. like south mississippi or texas or louisiana. passing in between gigs down there, every once in a while you have some days off. you look for music. naturally. hopefully something live and really fun and lowdown. this cat, in the song, is at a country dance, (in the country i mean), and he is just wanting to dance one real slow one. just to ask someone he don´t know, and dance, and fall in love under the full moon and take the memory of the dance and the night with him for his life on the road. hold onto someone and and enjoy the music. he tells the girl, when he’s trying to ask her to dance, that ‘it’ won´t happen if she just sits and watches. she´s gotta enjoy the night, the moon, the music. let it all work together and make it a special few minutes.

of course the music is key. the beat i chose is like something that a southern wind reminds me of. just a bit of a romp. rolling. momentum. steady motion. the guy is a romantic and wants some romance. if it´s only for a dance then he´s ready for that cuz he sees it from the stage every night but is really wanting to feel alive himself. recharge his soul batteries. have a place to come back to with memories of a great dance, not just somewhere to fill up the gas tank and move on. you dig?

i recorded that for the "tonite" cd sessions. but that cd kinda died where it was and i´m not all that broke up about it cuz it was horribly mixed. on that track you can hear the intensity of four cats all playing follow the leader.

it was tony gilkyson from X, lone justice and many more, on guitar. matt abts from the gov´t mule, on drums. And john bazz of the blasters on bass. i play rhythm and sing. the rhythm is mine. i love that rhythm. it was done in long beach and paid for by vince jordan, the owner of the blue cafe. someday i gotta redo it good. i first did it as a demo in denny freeman´s apt in east hollywood one morning about 4 a.m.

As told by © Hook Herrera

2 FOR A REASON

i was living in new york then (….). so here i was, alone and new. ha. another once again. Of course i went looking for lowdown jams and musicians

and hangouts. i found one directly with the help of my pal warren haynes from the gov´t mule and allman bros. he directed me to a jam on the lower east side and i went.

i saw a cool band and met the strangest looking chick in the joint. she was my age and looked like she knew what she wanted outta life by the way she dressed. you can’t be not sure of yourself dressed to kill. not so flashy but more like dressed to kill cuz one shot would do the trick. we talked and i was interested in her groove. she seemed independent and radical and anti all the shit i was anti. she said she had a history like mine. she had all the right answers. seemed like. we hung out and met to eat a few times and run around the chelsea flea market on weekends. she was a designer of clothes and doing ok and not really sweating life too heavy and living in the famous chelsea hotel. the chelsea.

one night, early in the morning, she called and figured i´d be up. she was right. i am a night person. completely. she said let´s meet down on ave b for a bite at an indian (from india) owned russian cafe. we went. it was about 330 in the a.m. and i was ready to eat a little and rap a while. she was tuff. not heavy but full figured woman and dressed in black with black dyed hair and it went well. not overdone i guess. it was kinda weird at first coming from texas where the only one we saw dressed like that was johnny cash, really. we talked and smoked menthols.

a girl, young, maybe twenty 3 or 5 walked in. she was thin. dope thin. but clean. street clean. not church clean. clean enuf. I was sitting next to a jerk twice as dirty as she was. she asked for some apple pancakes and showed the guy the money so he wouldn´t worry. he told her no. i couldn´t see why. not only that, being a real native american, i couldn’t see where this immigrant was getting off being prejudiced against anyone. it hurt me. he received acceptance, obviously, but wasn´t into giving it back. they began to argue and it got under my skin and i decided to get into it with that jerk and make sure she ate. i been a junkie. you don´t go asking for food with your money in your hand when you´re strung out. you score and get high. period. She was trying to get right.

i stood up and the girl i was with grabbed my arm and told me to not get into it. that that girl was always on the street. i flipped. after all she told me. after all the down and out stories that i thot we had in common. after telling her of my escapades, not so unlike this young girls, and having her tell me hers. obviously well forgotten or lies to get next to me. who knows? who cares? I got pissed even more now and disgusted that i was with a fascist. a right winger. a not get involved person. a liar. someone who could forget their past or just make one up to fit the date. it was all spinning so fast. i hate hate. i hate unacceptance in the face of surrender. it´s not acceptable. it´s not good energy. it´s denying someone something to eat. she wasn´t begging. she was paying. what the fuck? and my date, the tuff chick. the real deal. what a bunch of shit. i was just like that girl and it ran thru me like a hot iron. i knocked the shithead owner asshole into his buffet bar and told the fake tuff chick to kiss my ass and took the girl next door and sat her down and bought her breakfast. like so many had done for me. Not saving the world. i don´t even go there. i just try to make sure i don´t turn my head. i dont make it worse for the next one coming down the road by accepting hate and prejudice. i try not to close the door on my past just so i don´t go back there again. i try to keep my little area ok. not the whole world. Just what´s in my reach. this was all in my reach and happened in front of me for a reason. a test of sorts. an open hand.

i went home and wrote that song and it is extremely self-explanatory. not too many confusing metaphors or euphemisms. straight up. i wrote it that minute that i walked in the door. i lived on the corner of houston and A. right around the corner from charlie parker’s old place. i love that song. I recorded that one in an apartment in hoboken in the home studio of ward hake. ward was a transplant from little rock arkansas and he worked at the warner brothers offices in the tape room. he heard my stuff and liked it. i had a deal with wb for publishing which is why i was in new york. we made friends. when he heard that song he said he could do it for me at his place. i played everything. he had a great home studio as you can hear. and a great ear. i used a little "kay" wooden amp with an 8 inch speaker and tremelo. derrick o´brien of antone’s has it now.