October 8, 2026
Last week one of my former work buddies texted me with the question, “What are you doing Friday?” Well, that generally means one thing. Bill is inviting me out to see some local bands play. Bill’s grandson Bob is the resident live music promoter, and when the guy isn’t playing in his own bands, he’s booking local bands around the area. It’s probably more of a hobby for the guy than an actual business, but it’s still kind of cool. Being the retired fellow I am, I had nothing better to do on a Friday evening so I simply answered with, “Where?”
The last few times I’ve taken in these little musical outings the bands were all playing at a local video arcade named Glitches in Sherman, Texas. There would be no Ms. Packman for this evening though because things had moved up to club status, and the big event was going down up the road in Denison, Texas at the Kiotee Club. Although I’ve been to the place a few times, I’ve had a few issues finding it. Of course the fact that I’m usually entering “Coyote” into my GPS doesn’t help matters. I certainly admire the place’s creativity in the name, but it sure screws up my navigational effort! When I finally found the place Bill was waiting for me in the parking lot. The Kiotee Club isn’t a huge place, but it’s not tiny either. There’s a pretty good size bar and several pool tables there. Bill even made the observation how people were bringing their own pool cues. “They’re pros!” he commented. I had to tell the guy that when I was in college half of the eighteen and nineteen year-olds I knew carried their own private pool cue. It’s no big deal, dude. I was just amazed that the place was packing Guiness beer, and since I’m used to concert prices, I’m pretty stoked if I can find a Guiness brew serving up for less than five bucks a bottle!
The end of the club has a stage setup with a big open area for standing, dancing, or just grooving to the tunes. As for Bill and I? We’re both in our sixties so we took a seat at a long, wobbly table fifty or so feet from the stage. I told Bill that sitting at the long table in front of the stage made us look like judges on American Idol or something. I felt as though I should have been throwing out pointers and criticism to the bands regarding their performances. However, what was really performing were the beer bottles. Those bottles were grooving to the tunes and sliding all over that wobbly table. That kept me on my toes!
The band that fired up the night was some heavy metal trio from Denton, Texas, and when I say fired up, they really fired the place up! A lot of times I’ll go to these shows and wonder if the band had just been thrown together that afternoon and were playing on a dare. These guys though, were tight, loud, and proud. However, I do have to question the lead singer/guitarist’s choice of wardrobe. My wife once told me that anyone on stage playing a guitar looks cool regardless of what they are wearing. However, the guy’s knee length, cutoff jeans with the cowboy boots look was going to need more than just a few good guitar licks to pull off. As the guy squealed through a few guitar solos nobody seemed to care much about his fashion statement. A member of one of the other bands stopped by our table and made the comment, “Can you believe they’re opening for us?” In the world of live music that’s a pretty commendable compliment. Bill and I both agreed that these guys were far too good for the likes of the Kiotee club. I’ve seen opening acts playing at the American Airlines Center in Dallas that would have been shamed by this band. Okay, that’s a pretty good compliment as well.
By the time the second band had taken the stage our old pal Duddie had shown up with his best friend. He asked me if I was completely retired now. I answered by telling him that I was until somebody offered me a dream job that I just simply couldn’t turn down. Neither one of us saw that ever happening so he just gave me a high five, and that was that. Although all four of us at the table had worked for Texas Instruments at one time or another, everyone but me now worked for another electronics company. Feeling a bit left out of their shop talk conversations, I merely got lost in the next band that took the stage.
The second band for the night was Bill’s grandson Bob’s band. Although Bob is usually a drummer he had taken on the role as the lead singer and guitar player. Well, one of the guitar players anyway. For some reason the band felt the need for three guitar players to carry out their screeching, post apocalyptical punk sound. Indeed, it’s a bit scary, but it did carry a certain appeal. If nothing else, it made me appreciate the first band even more. What was kind of interesting was the fact that one of the guitar players was wearing a suit. “That’s just his stage persona,” Bill noted. When I mentioned the fact that I didn’t recognize him from the last time I saw this band play Bill simply answered, “He was wearing a mask that night.” Apparently, the guy is experimenting with several stage personas. Who knows? The next time I see him play he might be dressed up as Batman or something.
The image that I was having the most issues with was the bass player who had decided that a good rock and roll look was attaching two huge plastic eyes to his chest. The kid’s actually a nice guy, and he hung out at our table a bit where he mentioned how one of his bass strings had broken during their set. A broken bass string? I’ve seen guitar strings break many times. I’ve broken a few myself, but a bass string? Those things are so thick you can pull a horse trailer with them! The last time I saw the guy play he was complaining that he had become unplugged during the set and never noticed. I’m starting to wonder if the professional music thing is really something that this guy needs to be pursuing. When I asked what his day job was, he merely told me that he did odd jobs a day or two during the week. A popular saying in the entertainment business is, “Don’t quit your day job.” I suppose some should adapt the more useful, “Go find a day job” philosophy.
The third band was another trio that was nothing more than a hard driving punk band, and to drive their point home they blasted out a Ramones cover. “It’s kind of a cover,” the lead singer claimed. I’m not sure what that meant, but it seemed to get the crowd pumped up. Okay, the crowd of about three that is. Other than my table, the crowd of music fans was pretty sparse. Everyone in the place seemed to be far more interested in playing pool for the evening. Although the crowd was small, it was unique. Not only was there a guy wearing high top Converse, a belly shirt, and a denim skirt, but there was also some little hottie decked out in fishnet stockings and a Ramones shirt. The music lover who seemed to be having the most fun though was a girl who was wearing a denim vest covered with patches and pins. I’ve seen this girl at a lot of these shows, and although she seems to talk to those around her, the young lady always seems to be taking on the event as a solo. Oh well, it’s glad to see someone out and about supporting local live music who isn’t related to someone in the band.
By the time the last band had taken the stage Duddie and his buddy had bailed on us. He invited me to swing by his place after the show, but by then the time was stretching past one in the morning, and Bill and I both were fighting hard just to stay awake! The last band was certainly worth staying awake for though. The lead singer and guitar player was decked out in a mini skirt and fishnet stockings. Indeed she held a commanding stage persona that few could deny or ignore! “The singer would be easy to market,” was Bill’s comment concerning the little, rock and roll vixen. Not only was the lady easy on the eyes, but she was packing some musical talent as well. However, the band’s bass player stole the show as far as I was concerned. That girl thumped the bass like she was playing lead guitar. Not only was she showing off some musical chops, but wearing a tank top the woman was showing off a pair of guns that couldn’t go unnoticed. “She’s great!” I mentioned to Bill. “And with those arms, I pity anyone who tells her that she’s not!” After the ladies ripped out their last song Bill and I stumbled out into the parking lot. Whatever Duddie and his buddy were up to for the night would remain a mystery. We both just wanted to go home. Besides, it was Friday night. We had college football to concentrate on the next day.
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