[Maryland] This place was
old-time Texas, a proper dance hall. It typically wouldn’t be for me, but
having lived outside of Texas for the last year, I was loving it. I do
generally enjoy the spirit and soul of the south very much. The best thing
about Blanco’s was that there wasn’t a touch of irony – it was full of very
very old people in sincere cowboy hats. Arty Hill hails from Maryland, writes
his own songs, and had a backing band that seemed to be mostly from Austin. The
band did everything from honky tonk to modern country to outlaw country (some
very Robert Earl Keen songs). Some choice lyrics: “The Lord was Sunday, but
church was Saturday night,“ “I get hungry for baby, she’s like a bourbon and
red eye steak.” My favorite member of the band was the absolutely orgasmic
drummer – even when he was playing a slow steady beat, which he usually was, he
was throwing metal-ecstasy faces all over the place – we were pretty sure we’d
seen him play with Austin bands. He makes me laugh one month later. Every drum
stroke, a revelation. I was admiring all of the two-stepping ancient couples,
thinking how sweet it was that they’d stayed together so long, and then one of
the old men winked at me behind his woman’s back… It wasn’t a harmless friendly
wink either. Our foreign-accented waitress (who did not fit the clichés of the
place) was being hit upon by an ancient white-bearded professor looking fellow.
All in all, we had a mighty fine time - maybe Blanco’s is for me. (Photo courtesy of
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