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Author Tim Hallinan has a great blog-comment-thread going on over at http://www.timothyhallinan.com/blog/?p=233. He wondered who should perform at Obama's inaugural ball and spawned a fascinating string of comments and speculation. Of course I weighed in with my choices, kinda heavy on the Mo-Stax, give me Martha Reeves or Mavis Staples over some dingbat wearing a baseball cap incorrectly and gesticulating over material possessions.

I recall the bewilderment of Dubya's inaugural in January 2001—pundits suggested that cowboy boots and Stetsons would be trendy. But like everything from "My Pet Goat" to his recent faux-congrats to the President-elect, 'twas naught but a crock of Bush dung. Spoonfed by the media, folks back then attributed good-ol'-Texan characteristics to Dubya. The jury was still out on the Bush Junior.

Not any more. Sludgebucket's currently running an approval level of less than 20%, lower than any president in history (but still higher than those sudden weird headaches that crop up when you drink a milkshake too fast). The twerp is making Nixon look like FDR. January 20 is starting to look like the 4th of July.

So who should perform for Obama? Someone suggested ZZ Top, and I like that. There's something about ZZT that represents my America: a place where people work hard, pay their debts and can find Mexico on a map. The growls and squeals of Billy Gibbons's guitar work as soundtrack to red dust flying off a beaten '77 Dodge pickup truck on the way to the drive-in cinema, that's the America I know. A place where people say: "Hang on just a second there, champ, just what is IN this thing you call 'The Patriot Act'? You best not be stepping on our civil liberties, because as you know, liberty IS civil."

Still, if I were granted Godlike powers for a moment (now there's a scary thought, but...just this once), I know who I'd put on that stage. I'd reach back into 1967 and call forth: Otis Redding. Backed by...well, do you need to ask? Guys named Steve and Booker T and Donald "Duck" Dunn. Turtlenecks, straight-leg pants, Beatle-boots, and Kustom amps, turned to an appropriate Big-Deal-Wash-DeeCee volume.



Redding would never have made it in the MTV/American Idol world. His earnest but horse-faced mug wasn't made for the living-room glow of the Haunted Fish Tank.



But oh could he sing, the power of black American gospel fused with barely controlled blasts of ball-lightning, mythic yet real simultaneous, it seemed at times as though his body could barely contain it. Listen to his cover of Sam Cooke's "Shake"—recorded live—where at times the microphone seems to be trying to dodge bullets as the crowd fires back. Although best known for his plaintive hit "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay," Redding's too-short oeuvre is a mix of body-shots, jabs and show-stopper uppercuts. Of all the great Stax-Volt acts, only the wicked Wilson Pickett approached the ferocity of Otis (not to diss Aretha, Sam & Dave and Rufus/Carla Thomas: they too are part of My America, and I've got a double-sawbuck that says Dubya couldn't name a single Stax-Volt title).

Well heck, as long as I'm playing Master of the Inaugural, let's bring Pickett out for a few numbers. Imagine Barack and Michelle shaking it to "Land of 100 Dances."



Hey Tim, this is fun, thanks again!

Here's a bit of Otis Redding trivia: if you've ever wondered why his reading of "Satisfaction" is so transcendent and eccentric, here it comes. Although the Rolling Stones original was a huge worldwide hit...

Otis had never heard it. Someone gave him the sheet-lyrics, Cropper cranked the riff and Redding just...sang it the way it seemed right to him. Who knows who came up with the horn parts, including that wicked baritone-sax bellow...Cropper basically lived in the Stax-Volt studio during those days, so he probably knows. But covering a pop hit you've never heard, from a culture an ocean away...about the only things that Redding and Jagger/Richards ever had in common were a love of the blues and knowing what it means to be poor and live on either Grandma's cooking or pork pies (respectively).

And yes: the election of Barack Obama has, even from my tiny vantage point on this rock in the South China Sea, changed the status of the USA in the world's eyes. As he said when discussing his choice of family dog: "a mutt like me," and while purebreds may lounge around waiting for their daily shampoo and freshly scrambled eggs, mutts roll up their sleeves and get to work. Obama has a hell of a lot of work to do, and while we're all pitching in and practicing fiscal conservatism (financing that new bling-bling SUV not so attractive now, eh?), there's no reason why he can't kick off his presidency with a feisty celebration. Put your hand, on your hip, c'mon. And let your backbone slip.

Shake.