My father plays music. I believe I've mentioned this. He's always in a band (or 5,) and he hails from the old style of playing lost to most modern musicians. Knowing your shit and just playing.
There was one band of his in Indiana, Loaded Dice. They were a Rhythm and Blues band. The same type as the Blues Brothers, but without the showy front men. This is one of the songs they did.
Listen here.
Every year we would go to a Hog Roast at some farm. Several smokers going all day. Five or six of them at least. The guy working the spits would open one up and ask what part, cut off that part, and put it directly on your plate. But the best part was the corn. One big charcoal roaster with nothing but fresh corn in the husk. A guy wearing welding mitts would grab an ear, pull back the husks, dip it in a coffee can full of melted butter and hand it to you like a popsicle. Plus there was volleyball and unlimited cans of all kinds of soda.
When the sun dropped, the band would play in a pavilion in the middle of the yard. My father's band. The first year we attended, Loaded Dice opened with "Walking the Dog." The first time I had heard this song. When my father and I happen to play music together (quite infrequently) we play "Walking the Dog," and the whole time I think about the annual hog roast in LaPorte.
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