Jim Stringer & the Austin Music Band
Carousel Lounge, September 30
If someone ever possessed an appropriate surname, it’s Jim Stringer. The local professional musician is a guitarist’s guitarist, deftly switching between the related styles of Western swing, rockabilly, roadhouse blues, and mid-century rockola. While Stringer is one-third of the post-Fifties rock & roll band Git Gone, he’s also the designated strummer for other Austin artists like Susanna Van Tassel, Ted Roddy, and Wayne “The Train” Hancock. Yet even with all these musical commitments, Stringer is somehow able to front his own outfit, the generically named Austin Music (or “AM”) Band. Handling lead vocal and guitar duties, Stringer fronts Carl Keesee on bass, Lee Potter on drums, T. Jarrod Bonta on piano, and Boomer Norman on guitar. The AM Band owns the Thursday night slot at the Carousel Lounge, one of the more honest-to-God unique places in Austin. Offering beer, wine, and set-ups, the VFW-shaped, circus-themed, cinderblock establishment doesn’t know the meaning of term “pretentious.” Where else can bands share the stage with a large pink pachyderm whose trunk is curled around a martini glass? After a few intensity-building opening numbers, the basic quintet popped off the Forties classic “Is You Is, Or Is You Ain’t My Baby?” followed by a respectable version of the Gillespie/Sizemore/Biese standard “Right or Wrong,” a longing song made famous by Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys. Later, they caroused through the tongue-in-cheek swing standard “Jack You’re Dead,” followed by a twangy rendition of the Beatles’ Rubber Soul gem “I’ve Just Seen the Face.” Adding a needed dimension was featured vocalist Alan Barnet, whose singing often moved the small dance floor’s throng from boot-scoot to sock-hop with his smooth, Fifties-era delivery, especially on the walking bass-driven “Fools Fall In Love.” Second guitarist Norman, looking more Widespread Panic than Buck Owens, was Stringer’s near-equal, especially on an unannounced, jumpy twin-Telecaster instrumental that christened the second set. Stringer obviously relished the extra set of strings on stage, picking and grinning along like Junior Brown on a pedal steel. In the twisted confines of the Carousel — with such honest music emanating from the saloon’s west side — one wonders where all the people were. Such a proficiently played set list would have gone down just as easily at the usually packed Continental Club. Maybe the elephant scared them away.This article appears in October 8 • 1999.