The Krusty Cowboy Klub rides again!
Wednesday, 03 September 2014


The Krusty Cowboys Ride again --- Wednesday Sept 10 at the Brunswick Hotel, City.  See item down below.

(The small written item down the page - you idiot - not the small wrinkled item down below your belt buckle.)


Sample ImageSweet Baby James and Rob Eyers at the Gilbert Street Hotel Thursday Sept 4.

Smooth Double Voodoo Blues, great food and cold beer. Warm fires, too, to take the edge off them chilly spring evenings.





Sample ImageJAZZ in CHEEK @ The Whitmore Sunday September 7 -5pm til 8 pm

LUCKY DOOR PRIZE for Dad or You or, for Add, if you suffer from dexilisa.

Bonnie Lee and the band (Bonfire) will be releasing their new cd for the very first time

Bonnie lee says: "See you there For some cheeky jazz & smokey blues"
Gubmint warning: You may have to smoke your blues outside due to the wowser restrictions on smoking any kind of shit inside anything.



Sample ImageThe Magill Club is rocking through September

Pete Jenkins and the Crew at the Magill Club – Saturday September 6



Sample ImageGumbo yaya at the Magill Club Sunday September 7

First Sunday of every month the Magill Club gets hot with the Gumbo. This time it’s a fathers day treat with father and son Marty and Charlie playing together and the Gremain brothers in harness again in the brass section !


Sample ImageWednesday September 10 will be a hot one with the Krusty Cowboy Klub cracking the whip at the Brunswick Hotel, Gilbert Street.

Come on down for singing, dancing and lots of horsin' around.

I don't mean the kind of horsin' around you can't tell our partner about - I mean real cowboy type horsin' around ... playin' guitar and fiddles and doin' theTexas Two-step, or ... if you're more affluent - the Texas three- or four-step! But only if you cand afford it!

You don’t have to worry about hearin’ country music down there with the Krusty Cowboy Klub because you’ll be hearin’ COWBOY music which is a different buffalo altogether!  So, find yourself a cowboy/cowsheila hat and come down to the Brunswick pub for a whole mess of fun with the Krusty Cowboy Klub.  The boys kick out the yeehahs at around 8 pm.


Sample Image50th Anniversary Tour  THE ANIMALS & FRIENDS

The Gov | Fri 12 Sep


After 13 years, the Animals return to Australia for the 50th Anniversary Tour. Direct from the UK
Featuring Original Drummer: JOHN STEEL The Animals 1957 - 2014
MICKEY GALLAGHER Keyboards - The Animals 1965 - 2014
PETE BARTON - Vocals, Bass, The Animals 1990 - 2014
DANNY HADLEY - Guitar - Animal & Friends 1999 - 2014

The Animals were one of the most important British bands of the 1960s. The group is widely considered the raunchiest, the dirtiest, and the most authentic and uncompromisingly raw band of their time.
Tickets: $50 + Booking Fee
Doors open @ 7:30 pm

Sample Image

JAZZ in CHEEK@ Marion Hotel

Sunday, September 14, 2014 at 2:00pm

Another Bonfire/Bonnie Lee Galea event





Sample ImageGigs at The Wheatie:



    $10 ON THE DOOR 




Sample ImageAmber and Sandra

Sunday, 21st September. Wine, Women & Song with Sandra Humphries & Amber Joy Poulton at Victor Harbor Bowling Club at 2pm.

$20 prebook ($22 at the door). Now - this is 'country' music. There will be songs about plonk, chicks, blokes/dudes, good times, bad times and generally plenty of good fun and good music. Wine, Women & Song! Book now with Geoff on 8552 1745


Sample ImageSelling Now: Deep South Roots, Blues and Folk festival over November 28, 29 &30.


3 days of great music.

 Day 1 start with: Sheilas Sing the Blues.... Zkye, Gail Page and Carla Lippis

 Day 2: Read the poster, because I still couldn't be bothered typing it all out but the  Steve Brown Band is in there somewhere and that’s all that matters to me.

 Day 3: Up close and personal

 Plus some great interstate guests.

Book Now!!!   Tickets at Oztix

More Blues and Roots Gigs: Link: ARBA










Sample ImageAMC Session 5 launched - Glenn Shorrock


5th AMC Sessions and SA Music Hall of Fame inductions at The Goodwood Institute

October 10th.....7.30pm-11pm 1











 Sample ImageAdelaide Roots and Blues Association gig guide:



Horsie Tales

Under the scrawny cactus tree the township smithy stands
Six foot three, pale as brie with muscles like rubber bands.

Rusty Sheriffsbadge and I had come in off the range, having run out of money - and therefore experiencing a shortage of loose barroom sheilas and foaming jugs of beer as well -  and started up a blacksmith business to cater to the growing trade in horsie-related stuff out west. Rusty is a brute of a thing and can swing a ball-peen hammer in a way that makes me think of mass murderers and floors awash with blood but as long as I keep him busy we’ll stay out of trouble.  Business had been good; lots of repeat customers. We were using chinese-made horse-shoes that only last for about ten thousand clippity-clops. When the customer comes back to complain we blame the council for the crappy roads. I know it’s dodgy but we were holding the fort.
Then, into the port-cochere of our establishment a dread shadow fell, and with it a chill that froze my blood and even put a frost over the furnace.  I waited… “ting”.  Bastards…. The scary customer had crossed the door sensor and was coming in. Nothing to do but meet and greet.
Horror of all horrors – it was Poindexter the Perfectly Puerile Philistine of the Prairie.  And he was a real Prick.
“Shoe mah horse…!” he growled though a sneer.
“Well,  you’re the customer. Shoo horsie, Shoo… go away and take your rider with you,” said I.
Poindexter reached down and put two gloved fingers up my nose holes and lifted me up on tippytoes. He spat with venom:  "Put new shoes on my horse and don’t use that imported junk; I want your best iron on mah cayuse cause I’m a-ridin’ out through the Badlands….”
“Tough gig,” said I.
“Yeahhhhhh,” drawled Poindexter ominously. “… And then I’m riding into the Fukknawful lands. So get on with it, Shitferbraynes!”
What a situation! Our hoist was busted so I had to lift up Poindexter's horse while Rusty slapped on the shoes. It was fukkn hard work because Poindexter didn’t get out of the saddle -  and he’s no fukken prairie chicken, himself. I was pretty rooted by the time Rusty had done the job and I let down the horse and Poindexter with great relief.
“OK,” I said while counting on my fingers. “Three bucks a shoe… that will be fifteen bucks.”
“Not that I had any intention of paying you, Shitferbraynes, but your maths is bent,” snarled Poindexter while whipping out his pocket calculator. “Four shoes at three bucks is twelleve bucks, you cheating little poo-fly.”
“Ahhh, yes…” I countered. “Four on the horsie’s leggy-ends and then there’s the spare.”
“A spare horse shoe…. What for??” roared Poindexter.
“Well… I case you get a flat or something… so you can … sort of.... get yourself going agen…. You know… if you’re not in the RHA….”
“And where would I carry the … this ‘spare’ ….?”
“Ah. Yes. Well…. The spare is often carried on the back of these big off-road horsies…” I said. “Like this….!” And I nailed the thing to the horse’s arse.
That gave the horse a bit of a fright. Well… a big fright, really - quite spectacular, I thought – and the beast charged off like a missile from a cannon.  So fast it made one of them sound barrier explosions. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sight of it all. Rusty ambled up beside me.
“He forgot to pay,” said Rusty, watching his wages disappear down the street.
“Yes. Well… he is bit of a naughty fellow; reputation for it, you know. Hullo…. What’s this??? They’ve had a crash! Oh… it looks bad. Oh. My Gawd… it’s awful…. Oh, the humanity…. Let’s go have a look.”
It really was a terrible mess. Both horse and rider.  Hamburger. Raw hamburger. Lots of it.
“Ah, well….” I said, respectfully. “Might as well get our money out of his saddlebag before the cops arrive.” And I shipped a bucket-load of Poindexter's ill-gotten gold and silver into my apron pockets.
“At least he won’t be able to sue us, being that both of them are minced meat,” Rusty said with hope in his voice. “I wonder what made them crash?”
I bent my attention to the wreckage. “Rusty…” I whispered conspiratorially… “It’s your fault… look at the shoes.”
“But I used the good shoes, Sleepy, not the cheap chinee ones,” wailed Rusty.
“Yes. You did. But, you big lummox, the shoes have come off - you forgot to do up the laces!”
We didn’t want to get busted for poor workmanship so we set fire to the wreck to burn the evidence.  Then we had an idea - we closed the blacksmith shop, dragged our port-cochere down to the blaze and opened a pop-up  burger stand. We’re doing well, too. Poindexter had a big horse and, as previously mentioned, he was no fukken prairie chicken, himself!