Red River: News

Digital downloads of Red River's music are now available!

Click on the "Buy" link to purchase!

And thank you!

Many thanks to Lissa Willis for the beautiful home page photo!

In 2006, I started what was to become a tradition of honoring those who passed away throughout the year.

This is my 2008 tribute.

We'd appreciate your vote!

Red River is hard at work on two new songs; one from Michelle, called, "The High Cost Of Living". This one will have an Eagles vibe to it.

The second song is called "Angel In Disguise" - a song from Dale. Very beautiful!

We're looking forward to debuting them here soon!

Red River has another new song, called, "Goodbye".

Red River has been in a prolific phase lately.

More to come! Stay tuned!

Hope you enjoy this one!

"Bucking The Tiger" was written and directed by Michelle Graye. We're looking forward to seeing the film! "Ghost Town" will be featured during the closing credits!

We've got a new one! It's a little blues rock number called, "Off The Track". Hope you enjoy!

We have a new rock song, "I Don't Mind", just released today!

Give it a listen!

We recently found out that our song, "Ghost Town" will be featured in a short film. In fact, the entire song will play over the closing credits.

The film is titled, "Bucking The Tiger", and it is the true story of a shootout between Billy "The Kid" Claiborne and Buckskin Frank Leslie.

The film was written and directed by Michelle Graye.

Browse on over to our music page to give "Ghost Town" a listen.

And take a look at our photo page for some behind-the-scenes pictures.

Hi everyone!

We've decided to offer both "Mildred's Garden" and "Don't Go Home" as free downloads.

If you've ever had a mom (?) or if you've ever tried to go home and have been sorely disappointed, then these songs are for you.

We hope you like 'em. Drop us a line and let us know.

Red River's song, "Prayed For It To Rain" scored an honorable mention in the Song Of The Year competition (country category) for December of 2007.

Browse on over to our music page to listen.

Red River is hard at work on our new CD. Look for it to be released sometime this year. It’ll have all your (new) favorites, like, “Ghost Town”, “Prayed For It To Rain”, “Triple Service”, and many more!

We've just uploaded two brand new Red River songs, "She'll Never Know" and "Mystery Hill".

Take a listen and let us know what you think. We like 'em!

So, I flipped my calendar over before I left work today, and noticed that Monday is September 25th. That’s Alice’s birthday.

Alice would have been 51 on Monday. Wow, a lot of time has passed!

I met Alice when I was 11. Our family had just moved from the farm in Minnesota, since my mom and dad had decided to get the hell out of farming and buy a business. At first I was excited to move, until I realized that I was leaving behind all my friends, and would be thrust into a new school situation, where I would be the “new kid”. Yikes! Bad age for that, too. You’re all self-conscious about yourself anyway at that age.

It was creepy that first day - and of course, it was in the middle of the school year, so all the friendship ties, if they weren’t already established years ago, were at least established by the time I got there in December. It was sixth grade, so we still had recess. So, I sort of tagged along behind some people who seemed semi-friendly, but it was really excruciating, especially for a shy girl like me. That kind of went on for a couple of weeks, and it didn’t get any better. I just sort of hung around on the perimeter of whatever group would let me stand there with them, while they gossiped about people I didn’t know.

As I became a bit more comfortable in my class, or at least at the point where I felt like people weren’t staring at me when I walked in, I noticed this girl who seemed to react to stupid things the teacher said with the same sense of amusement that I did. It was sort of like Jim and Pam on “The Office”, where no one else got it, except for the two of us. And I guess she noticed that, too. So, we struck up a conversation, and she was really nice and really funny. We both shared that observational type of humor that was a little bit off-kilter, so we’d always be cracking each other up, pointing out other people’s actions or things that they said and sharing an inside joke about it.

I soon found out that she was really out of the mainstream as far as music was concerned (for our peer group, that is.) She told me in no uncertain terms that she liked country music, and in fact, she was in a band with her brother and her uncle. Well, that was cool! I liked music and singing and stuff like that. I was still listening to The Rascals and The Monkees, etc., etc., but there had been a time in my life when I’d listened to the music that my mom and dad liked - which was country. So at least I didn’t come across as a complete moron when she talked about music (and one did NOT want to be a moron at age 11.)

So, I quickly switched my loyalties to country music - ha ha. You know the song, “I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool”? Well, it was NOT cool to like country music at that time! But I had a friend!! So there!

So, things quickly became better for me. We entered junior high together, and continued on our merry way. I would go over to her house a lot, and I liked watching band practice. I liked her family, too. They always had lots of people over and there would always be lots of music and fun.

So, I decided I would save up my money and buy a guitar. I cajoled her into teaching me some chords, and she’d come over every Saturday for awhile and show me stuff, and I practiced a lot, ’til I got to where I could play along with the songs on my…….oh, I guess they were “albums” then.
And yea, this part from “To Talk To You Today” is totally autobiographical:

1967 you taught me how to play
All those Merle Haggard songs
Man, he had a way
And the intro to “Detroit City”
I remember it today
(etc., etc.)

Well, we went through junior high together, then high school, and we had a blast. We laughed a lot in the school library, and got a few dirty looks. We were supposed to be studying or researching or something, but it was all too boring, so we just had fun.

On Friday nights in our little town, all anyone did was “drag Main”. There really wasn’t anything else for a teenager to do, so we’d put a dollar’s worth of gas in her car and drive up and down Main Street, me smoking, her tolerating it. And we’d meet up with people in the Big Boy parking lot, sometimes jump in their cars and drive up and down Main again, get out, get back in Alice’s car and repeat the same procedure over and over.
We didn’t even care, because we were out of our parents’ houses and off on our own. We met some boys, had some dates (usually double dates). Usually, either I’d like the one I was with and she hated her date, or vice versa, so it never really worked out too well - ha ha.

We sang along with “Drift Away” by Dobie Gray, and I’d laugh whenever an extra person joined us in the car, because I’d always end up in the middle, and whenever “Stuck In The Middle With You” came on the radio, I’d get to sing, “Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right; here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”

When we graduated, we thought, oh, time for an adventure. So, the best place we could come up with was Winnipeg, Canada. What a lousy trip that turned out to be - ha ha. We had very little money, so we drove up there, found a real fleabag motel, got some Molson Beer, and basically just drank and watched TV, because we were in a seedy part of town and were too afraid to go out after dark. We found this diner nearby that was frequented by bums and other undesirables, and we ate really, really fast. It was so pathetic, I’m laughing about it now. So, that was our big GRADUATION TRIP. The part I remember the best, though, was just driving down the highway and singing along with the radio and laughing, having a good time.

After that last summer, things started to change. We got jobs and I ended up getting engaged, so our lives went in different directions. She continued singing with the band, so her weekends were full. Once I was married and had my first child, we really were on different life paths. So, we never really reconnected after that.
We’d go out to see her band once in awhile, and we’d talk a bit, but it wasn’t like the old times.
So, a big part of my life ended really, and a whole new chapter began.

Flash forward to a phone call I got in December of 2002. Alice had suddenly taken ill and had died.
Hmmm……….tough even thinking about that now.

So, I just wanted to write something about her, but I didn’t want to make it maudlin. I wanted to remember all the fun we had.

My husband says if it wasn’t for Alice, I wouldn’t even be doing music now. I’m not sure. But “To Talk To You Today” was the first song I ever wrote, in December of 2002. It’s still my sentimental favorite. We recorded that song on September 25, by the way.

She was a really cool person, and she really got a kick out of life. It’s nice to say I had a friend like her.

Red River aficionados are familiar with our song, Triple Service.

Well, Triple Service is an autobiographical song, and it is (was) a real place.

In 1964, my Uncle Howard (everyone called him Uncle Howard, even people who were unrelated to him; I’m not sure why) bought a place in Lisbon, North Dakota (a tiny town in the southeast corner of the state) that consisted of a bar, a restaurant, and a service station; thus, Triple Service.

Being only one person, he couldn’t simultaneously run all three parts of the business by himself. He didn’t have a wife, so he needed a good cook to run the restaurant part. This is where my mom and my Aunt Barbara came in.

My mom and Aunt Barbara were both farm wives and both excellent cooks, so an arrangement was made with them to alternate weeks running the restaurant for my uncle.

Logistically, this required some arrangements to be made. Aunt Barbara only had two kids, Paul and Karen, but my mom still had two tiny ones at home (Jay and Lissa), so my older sister was commissioned to take care of the toddlers, while Paul, Karen, and I moved to Lisbon for the school year.

Well, what could be more of an adventure for a kid?

Overall, the setup was great. Uncle Howard’s bar had a dance floor and live music, so the three of us would hide in the liquor room at night and watch the goings-on. My cousin Paul, being the adventurous sort, let a frog lose on the dance floor one night. We watched in fascination as it hopped toward the dancers. Needless to say, it did not turn out well. Being the intellectuals that we were, we also slid ice cubes across the dance floor. Not a real bright idea, in hindsight.

In the restaurant area, either Mom or Aunt Barbara was doing the cooking, depending on the week, and Karen and I were commissioned to wait tables on Saturday nights, when it got very, very busy. I found out quickly that waitressing was not one of my talents. “I’ll have a pepperoni pizza.” “What would you like on that?” “Uh, pepperoni.” “Okay”. (slinking away in embarrassment).

Triple Service had its name in big red wooden letters on the roof over the service station area. Karen and I thought we were very clever and cute, climbing up on the roof and suddenly serenading unsuspecting customers who just wanted to fill their tank and get the hell out of there, as they eyed us suspiciously. (“Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport” was our big rooftop number.)

Well, it was a great experience……..except……….THE SCHOOL. I was a public school girl, but here I was, suddenly attending a Catholic school, St. Aloysius (and by the way, it should sound like it’s spelled, so I decided I would call it St. Allo-SI-us.) Paul and Karen came from a Catholic school background, so the nuns LOVED them. They HATED, HATED me. Apparently, I was a down-fallen woman at the age of 9, and I was most certainly going to hell. Overall, their attitude didn’t bother me. Cuz if hell was Triple Service, then all was good. Every time one of them would speak to me, they’d say, “Oh, that’s right. You live at THE PLACE.” Well, Uncle Howard had a sign posted in his bar that said, “There’s no place anywhere near this place, just like this place, so this must be THE PLACE.” Every time I read that sign, I’d laugh and think of the St. Allo-SI-us nuns.

Academically, I did well….well enough that they wanted me to skip a grade. Well, I was having none of that. First of all, I knew that I would be going back to my real school eventually, and I wanted to be in the same grade as my friends. Secondly, the stupid school was way behind. No wonder I seemed so smart. I’d already learned all the stuff they were teaching. My mom thought it was some kind of big honor to skip a grade, but I put my foot down about that.

But, aside from SCHOOL, it was a fun time. I remember at night when we’d sit in the dark, watching Lloyd Thaxton on TV. I can’t believe I actually recall the name of that guy. That’s where I remember seeing Roy Orbison with his sunglasses, singing “Oh, Pretty Woman”. I also remember Manfred Mann for some reason. The rest is a blank.

Then there was the MONEY. We made HUGE amounts of money (for kids). See, we had our little trio…..Paul on accordion, Karen on guitar, and me on drum. I don’t know how I got assigned the drum, cuz I could play accordion, too (all three of us took lessons together). So, I stood behind my drum with my brushes, and Karen and I sang our repertoire, which pretty much consisted of “Bye Bye Love”. We made the drunken patrons swoon with that song. We’d set up just outside the bar, where the customers would have to pass as they were leaving. They threw money at us like crazy. We had our black skirts with white fringe, the boots, the western shirts and the hats. Oh, we were a hit, but very jaded. We loved scooping up the money, sticking it in our piggy banks, and heading off to Woolworth’s the next day to buy all manner of shiny objects. (In addition to bars, we also played nursing homes, and we killed there…..probably not a good choice of words.)

Additionally, Karen and I decided that we’d write an illustrated book of music. The premise was, what artists would say when they got old. We spent hours on that. I think I pretty much did the majority of the work, now that I think back. I did all the drawings and the funny sayings. I’m sure she must have contributed something. This was all good practice for my current occupation as a fool. Uncle Howard’s tippling friends all wanted to buy our book – again, money! It wasn’t exactly easy reproducing it by hand, however. I don’t think we came out ahead on that venture.

My dad would come down on some weekends, and he enjoyed himself immensely in Uncle Howard’s bar. But I also remember watching my mom and dad out on the dance floor once in a great while, which was an extremely foreign site to me.

Eventually, the good times ended and we all went back to our real lives.

Uncle Howard owned a lot of bars throughout his life, but none of them ever compared to Triple Service.

I thought maybe it’d be a good idea to put my memories down on paper, before they were gone, like Triple Service is gone now. Like Mom, Dad, Uncle Howard, and Aunt Barbara are gone now.

I haven’t seen Paul and Karen in years. I wonder if they ever think about Triple Service.

More people should become friends with New Year’s Eve.

Of course, it’s not a commercial holiday, unless you are a bar-owner, so it probably won’t catch on like Halloween or Christmas.

My feeling, though, is that while Christmas has lost its spiritual meaning, New Year’s Eve has taken up the slack…….well, for me anyway. And it can for you, too.

Let’s face it; Christmas is depressing for most people, for a variety of reasons. Oh, c’mon, you know it is. Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but it’s true.

New Year’s Eve, however, gives one permission to be sad and wistful and sentimental. You don’t have to feel guilty for feeling that way.

You can think about people you don’t see anymore, for whatever reason. People who were important in your life for a moment, or for a lifetime.

You can have a glass of wine and put on a song that reminds you of a memory that you shared with that person.

You can play Perry Como, singing “Catch A Falling Star”, and remember your dad singing that song to you when you were just a tyke (as an example).

And maybe you’ll shed a tear, but you’ll smile, too.

You can play a song from 1973, and remember feeling carefree and independent, and singing along to the car radio at the top of your lungs with your best friend.

You can celebrate any moment that you darn well choose to celebrate. There are no expectations, no obligations that you have to meet. You can be alone with your thoughts.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I think people don’t have enough “quiet time” anymore. Everything is “have to’s”. I have to do this; I need to get this done.

Just stop for one day out of the year. Take some time and think about what really matters to you. I mean what truly matters.

Set aside one day from the meaningless tasks. Isn’t there enough of that going on every day? How much do you really do in your life that matters one way or the other? Seriously.

When all is said and done, there are a finite number of people who make our lives worth living. Maybe it’s your dad, maybe your mom, your kids, your spouse, your best friend.

So, give it a try. Stay home on New Year’s Eve. If you feel the need to dance, put on a song that really makes you WANT to dance. I don’t care if it’s “Old Time Rock & Roll” or if it’s some stupid song that you’d only play in the privacy of your own home, like “Achy Breaky Heart”. (Oh you know you’ve got one of those songs; admit it.)

But try to dance to one that brings back fond memories, and just dance and be stupid

Trust me; you’ll feel better for having done it. Make a sentimental toast to those people who maybe can only hear you from heaven.

They’ll enjoy your dancing. They’re no fools.

They know what matters.

I’ve had a few jobs in my life. I’ve been the lowest-level peon (cleaning motel rooms for my parents’ business) and I’ve been a manager of a 150-person department, and everything in between.

Doesn’t really matter. Work is not fun.

Oh, I remember back when I was just out of school. I was so excited to get my first job and to be out in the REAL WORLD.

I got a job as a clerk-typist for the State Health Department. And you actually had to take a test to even be considered for an interview!

I was eighteen and answering phones, basically.

Then, as a special bonus and a nod to my superior abilities, I was asked to become part of a “special project” for the department. All the birth, death, marriage, and divorce records were going to be microfilmed. (Before that, they were just bound in big books).

What was this special perk that I was chosen for? I got to go through all the records (starting back in the 1800’s) and trace over any printing that was too faint to be read by the microfilm machine! What an honor!

So, I was holed up in this back room with one window, with one other person my age and a supervisor.

We spent our days with our pencils, tracing over letters, and alternating using the microfilm machine to film the records. It was fascinating work!
I was eighteen! Who could ask for more??

The one saving grace in that dank, smoky room (yea, all three of us smoked) was the AM radio. At least we could listen to tunes as an alternative to blowing our brains out.

Gordon Lightfoot had a hit song at that time, “Sundown”.

Just to amuse myself and to break up the monotony, I would sing along with the radio whenever that song came on, in an effort to supremely annoy my co-worker friend. And it worked! She shot me some really evil looks whenever I would sing that song. Ah, good times.

We were on the 17th floor of the State Capitol building, and we had one tiny little window that we would sometimes walk over to, to see if there really was any actual life going on outside our little oxygen-starved room. You could hear birds singing! Well, sure, they were singing! They weren’t PRISONERS.

It was pretty much my worst job ever. At least when I was cleaning motel rooms in high school, I got to go out into the sunlight once in awhile.

My friend lived about a block and a half from the capitol building, so sometimes we’d walk down to her place for lunch — Spaghettios — because we were quite poor. But we did at least get to bask in the sun as we made our trek from the gates of hell down to her apartment. It was a welcome diversion, as we walked in our short dresses and platform shoes. (had to dress up for work, you know.)

I lasted there about a year. I had to either quit or commit myself to an institution for the mentally deranged. I actually went back to work for my parents (in the office this time, thank God).

It just occurred to me that I rarely left any job because I wanted to pursue a better opportunity. Usually I was just really bored or ticked off about something. I always told them, though, “It’s not you; it’s me.” But it really was them.

But anyway, that’s the TRUE story of April Days. Yes, it all happened the way I wrote it. Lo, those many years ago.

Isn’t it a good idea to talk about someone and what they mean to you before it becomes a memorial?

I don’t know where the years have gone. It seems like literally yesterday that I was in my best friend’s living room, watching her and her brother’s band practice playing Merle Haggard songs.

I’m not exactly sure when Merle Haggard first entered my consciousness, but I think it was most likely 1967. That’s around the time that my new best friend, Alice, reintroduced me to country music.

I’d grown up on Buck Owens and Ray Price albums. That’s what my parents had. But as an adolescent, I’d drifted more toward the music of my time……that being The Monkees and some groups with strange names like Strawberry Alarm Clock and The Boxtops.

My new friend very patiently schooled me in the finer points of country music. Artists like Bobby Bare and Porter & Dolly, who just happened to be a very hot act at that time.

I did some research of my own, of course, and found that I really liked a new guy named Waylon Jennings, and also another new guy, Charley Pride. I think the first country album I bought was “Love Of The Common People” by Waylon Jennings, and shortly thereafter, I bought Charley Pride’s album, although I can’t remember the name of it, and I can’t find it on Amazon, but I do remember that the color of the album was kind of orange.

But there was this guy who was always being played on the radio named Merle Haggard. He liked to sing a lot of songs about prison. It seemed edgy.

And he had some real twanging lead guitar (later I learned that the lead guitar player’s name was Roy Nichols.)

And this Merle character was really cute, which didn’t hurt. He sang songs like, “(I’m A Lonesome) Fugitive”, “Sing Me Back Home”, “Branded Man”. I sensed a theme here.

Anyway, it was different. How was it different? Well, the production was very different from the stuff that was coming out of Nashville. The band members were upfront. There weren’t any strings. This was hardcore country. Reminded me a lot of Buck Owens’ stuff. And this guy could sing!

So, subliminally, this Merle guy seeped into my consciousness. I decided I REALLY REALLY liked him (as Sally Field would say.) I sort of became obsessed. I bought every album he put out. I even bought The Strangers’ instrumental album (featuring Roy Nichols and Norm Hamlet, among others). Man, I wish they’d reissue that instrumental album, because that holds a lot of fond memories for me.

How obsessed was I? Well, Merle put out an album called “Hag”, that was a simple white cover with a drawing of Merle. I used to try my hand at drawing, so I studied that album cover and drew that image in pencil. (Okay, maybe I was a dork, but so be it.)

When I decided that I wanted to learn how to play the guitar, my friend Alice offered to teach me some chords. The first songs I learned how to play were Merle Haggard songs. Alice even taught me how to play the lead part to “(I’m A Lonesome) Fugitive”. I can still play that, by the way.

Well, the topper was this………..In 1968, I believe, Merle was coming to town to put on a concert! Back in those days, it was all package shows, so you’d get your main act, and then you’d get some up-and-comers and some artists who were maybe a bit past their prime, but it was a “cavalcade of stars”, so to speak.

Well, Alice & I wasted no time buying our tickets for the Merle Haggard concert. Also featured was that new guy, Charley Pride (”The Easy Part’s Over” was his current hit single), Freddie Hart, who hadn’t quite hit yet with his career-defining record, “Easy Lovin’”, and I think some other folks whose names have escaped me.

So, innocently enough, on the day of the concert, Alice took the school bus home with me, because we’d planned to leave from my place to go to the show.

We got home, and my mom said to me, “Guess who just checked in!” (Okay, by way of explanation, my folks owned a motel; the Modern Frontier Motel, to be exact). I could tell that she was trying to contain her excitement, so I figured it wasn’t one of the traveling salesmen who showed up every two weeks or so. She showed Alice and me the registration card, and damn! It was Merle Haggard! Merle Haggard was staying at my place!

Well, this was overwhelming to both Alice and me. What would we do? How could we make him notice us?
Being seventh-graders and in that awkward, stupid stage, the idea we hit upon was……….get out my portable, battery-operated record player and play “Mama Tried” over and over and over again, outdoors, 50 feet from Merle’s room. I just know that had to be supremely impressive to him.

Well, when that didn’t produce any results, we commenced to walk around and around and around the building, past Merle & Bonnie’s room. Eventually, we rounded the bend and saw Merle out walking his little dog! Excellent! We really saw him! But did he see us? Couldn’t tell.

Well, eventually Alice & I came down from our Hag High, long enough to get ready to go to the concert. I think the concert started at 8:00. We were there around 5:00. Had to get those front-row seats! No assigned seating back then, so it was first-come, first-served.

Got through the opening acts. Sort of remember seeing Charley Pride. Even though I liked him, I have little recollection of seeing him perform. There was one person we wanted to see, and that was HAG.

It was damn well worth the wait. Merle did all his hit songs, with Bonnie Owens singing backup. Merle did his impersonations of Marty Robbins, Buck Owens, Hank Snow, and Johnny Cash.
Merle gazed out upon the front row, and HE SMILED AT ME!

The rest is a blank.

Alice & I went around after the show to collect autographs. Back then, everyone would stick around to sign. I have that sheet of paper tacked up on my bulletin board, and smack-dab in the middle is the signature of MERLE HAGGARD!
There’s also signatures from Norman Hamlet, Eddie Burris and Jerry Wood (also from the Strangers), Freddie Hart, who wrote, “To Shelly, a little doll” (how sweet). Faye Hardin (and I’m sorry to say, I don’t know who that is). Oh, and Freddie Hart said to us, “Didn’t I see you walking around the motel?” ha ha ha - I guess somebody noticed.

Well, shortly after that night, Merle put out the album that he recorded live in Philadelphia. Merle put out a lot of albums; “Let Me Tell You About A Song”, for one. I have all of them. Well, at least I have all of them I could find on CD.

Merle wrote and recorded, “Today I Started Loving You Again”. I read once that when he was writing the song, Bonnie Owens told him to lose the second verse. For some reason, I picture him writing that song in a room at the Modern Frontier Motel. I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but that’s how the story goes in my mind.

Alice is gone now. But in my mind, Alice and Merle will always be intertwined. Man, that guy could sing! And man, could he write!

And man, how Alice could sing!

Alice and Merle are interchangeable in my memory.

So, you see why, taking everything into account, Merle means so much to me. He’s got a heavy burden, at least in my mind. He’s carrying not only the memory of those heady days of 1968, but unbeknownst to him, he’s keeping Alice’s memory alive.