From the blog
Next up was the genius of Delaney Davidson. His set was a David Lynch Alt country mescaline trip through the Arizona desert. Multi-leveled sound mixing and looped recordings with a distortion mike made for a surreal voyage through Davidson’s bare … Continue reading
“Delaney Davidson, whose looped layers of guitar and dark lyrics captivated the crowd with bone-chilling country noir.”“…his music goes beyond folk to include an eclectic jumble of styles and sound experimentation — neo-blues, noir trash and avant-rock…” neo-blues, noir trash … Continue reading
The master of the woozy blue moan is back, with more off-kilter tales of the broken-down and the beaten, the destitute and the desperate – all of whom, it seems, are Delaney Davidson himself. Across ten new songs – four … Continue reading
The Holiday Motel was the first motel in Door County. Built in the Cubist Modern (or Modern International) design, it opened its doors on Saturday, May 31, 1952. The motel was designed and owned by William Paul, owner of the local supper club the Nautical Inn, and his business partner Myron Krueger. According to newspaper reports of the time, the two emphasized the “modern” detail and amenities when listing such items as a ventilated phone booth just for the business traveler’s calling convenience, the fire-proof and chip-proof Simmons furnishings, the glass-block windows, photo-mirrors, tile bathrooms, theatre-lit hallways and stairs, and white stucco and cement block construction – the newest methods of the day.
The builder used the post Motor Court style popular at a time in American travel history when guest room views onto the on-site private parking was a major attraction to travelers. In the early part of the twentieth century, there were few choices for travelers – most stayed at camp ground, cottage courts, or tourist homes. Business was good, and a year later, the Holiday Diner was added to serve a full breakfast menu.
The Holiday Motel was purchased in May 2007 by Holiday Motel Management, LLC, a group of musicians and music enthusiasts. This group came together while working on Steel Bridge Songfest (SBSF), an original music festival designed to celebrate and raise awareness for the preservation of the historic Michigan Street Bridge. Efforts were successful and the bridge was saved and re-opened for good in the summer of 2011. The motel sits at the bridge’s approach.
There are many types of entertainment available to Wausau residents and visitors including Exhibitour, Concerts on the Square, Market Place Thursdays, Screen on the Green and the Hmong New Year.
Real entertainment on Thursday at Malarkey’s. “Seems to be a pretty popular nightlife spot for Wausau, which is really lacking in decent nightlife spots.”
The music clomps, stomps, creaks, and wheezes, traversing a swath from lonely plains to 50′s biker barrooms,”
Davidson is the vagabond spawn of Waits and Cave. A cover of Jay Abner’s “I’m So Depressed” is transformed into a country-slanted blues “pop” song. Davidson veers from the sad country put down of “You’re A Loser” to the traditional gospel “I Saw The Light From Heaven” into the tribal pounding of “I’ve Got The Devil Inside,” penned by Voodoo Rhythm’s head honcho, Reverend Beat-Man. After plundering Bo Diddley on the scorching “Windy City,” Davidson wraps up as hopefully as his forlorn, ramshackle world permits:
“Every man needs a gun and every man needs a bride,
You gotta have something of your own inside.”
“Writing songs and recording them that same day is a refreshing reminder that music is alive. It flows around us and if we are lucky enough and can see it or take a hold of it, it will transform the world and carry us to different places. One afternoon we wrote Dynamite, Running To You and Honey Girl, a journey through the beginnings towards the final versions. Starting in patter, Fifties bongo-ville, jive rhythm and slang, cartoon wolves and cats, and morphing through coiled bass lines, constricted needles of muscle bound guitar piercing the skittish rhythm that couldn’t control itself and bursts the dam when the chorus arrives.
Bizarre to sit late into the night and be able to listen back to this journey, hear the doubt, the tears, see the exhausted musicians lie about spent. Sated grins of fools scattered between the discarded guitars and mike stands.
It was all there, hard to believe what a beautiful beast we had sighted in that afternoon, and harder to believe that same beast now lay slumbering next to us.”