Stuff that happened away from the Forum

Even on a slow Monday night in late March, there is music on Beale Street, and the smell of barbecue is pervasive and unmistakable. I set off in search of decent company and live music .

My solo "it's not sad, it's research" bar crawl began at the King's Palace Cafe, where I met the "Mayor of Beale Street," Randy Williams:
Here he is entertaining a young tourist...
...who clearly wasn't interested and wanted to step inside.

One note about Memphis - bring spare change and a few dollar bills. These songs out on the street aren't free. Neither is taking pictures of these people, like the Mayor.

The bartender inside the King's Palace tells me that Memphis gets really crazy in May for the International Music Festival, then the Memphis BBQ Fest. But "it's starting to pick up even now."

The next stop is Club 152, where the fine people of Fogelman Management are rockin' out to the After Dark Band. There are a lot of corporate functions in this city and after hours they wind their way to Beale Street to cull embarrassing stories for the return to the office and scream wildly at "Play that Funky Music White Boy" and "Sweet Home Alabama." I got out of that place quickly.

Next Stop: Silky O'Sullivans, home of the Diver -a gallon bucket full of beer, gin, and juice for $18. "You'd be surprised how many people order it. We got a whole palette of buckets downstairs," says the bartender. I did not indulge. Also home to a piano player who makes jokes like this one:

"A toast to women's underwear. Not the best thing in the world, but it's right next to it."
And finally to the Rum Boogie Cafe, where I found this band:

exactly what I was looking for. Great musicians, playing great blues. With a tip bucket on top of a woman's lower half.

That's it from Memphis. Except for this:

Insert Elliot Spitzer joke here.

-david