Stevie Ray Vaughan: 20 Years After He Leaves Us, and He’s Still One of the Best

So…the other day I’m on the highway at 0 dark thirty.

I am sober.

It’s a warm, clear, full moon-lit morning.

Sunroof open.

Windows down.

Smith & Wesson on the bucket seat next to me is riding shotgun.

He’s my only friend at this hour.

Stereo is blasting with the SRV and Double Trouble album Couldn’t Stand The Weather on the mp3 player.

The song Things That I Used To Do comes on.

I let it track through.

When it’s over, I actually say to myself as I tear-ass down the interstate, “Gawd-damn! That song fucking rocks! Stevie’s getting the fuck off!”

I wish I was a Texan.

Maybe.

I play it again, Sam.

Now…I’ve heard that cut probably 500,000 times, as I have owned the vinyl album since its release way back in the mid-80s, and SRV in general has always been one of my favorites.

In this case, the planets must have been in alignment, or the conditions were perfect, because it was like I’d never heard the song before.

Or, maybe this was the first time I ever really listened to it closely.

It was truly amazing and spectacular, and I vowed to find a video of SRV performing the song live, because I figured it would be even more awesome than the studio recording I had just listened to twice.




The thiiiiiiiiiiiiings… that I used to do… lawd I won’t… do no mo’…

I was fortunate enough to see SRV live and in concert at Emens Auditorium at Ball State University way back in 1986.

I don’t remember too much about the show, probably because I was TIRED, but I do recall that it seemed as if SRV played rhythm and lead guitar all at the same time.

The thiiiiiiiiiiiiings… that I used to do… lawd I won’t… do no mo’…

It was amazing and spectacular, and his rhythm section, known worldwide as Double Trouble, was stupendous!

A few years ago on the anniversary of SRV’s unfortunate helicopter ride, I was sitting home alone and drinking screwdrivers, nursing a bad back with muscle relaxers, and jamming through my SRV record collection at ear-splitting levels.

I was enjoying myself too much, apparently, when my wife and kids came home from some kinda wholesome approved activity.

They were horrified at my condition and the decibels of my ass-kicking stereo.

I exclaimed to no one in particular and everyone, “Damn! This shit rocks!”

It wasn’t long before I got TIRED, and fell face first into my plate of spaghetti at the dinner table.

I was a bad Dad that day.

Here’s a little tip: Try not to mix muscle relaxers with screwdrivers. It is neither prudent nor proper, but it makes you forget all about an aching back!

The thiiiiiiiiiiiiings… that I used to do… lawd I won’t… do no mo’…

Now…I have heard it said, on the intardnets and elsewhere, that SRV really wasn’t that big of a deal.

…that his amazing sound was simply because of the super-sensitive nuclear powered pick-ups on his guit-box Fender Stratocaster…or something…and that any dumb monkey could play and sound like he did.

I’m no guitar geek, and I can’t read or play a note of music on any kind of instrument known or unknown to mankind.

But, I say to this, “Whatever, man.”

I’ve also heard it said that SRV simply ripped off about a thousand classic black blues men and Jimi Hendrix and electrified everything and never really did anything original or cool.

Whatever, man.

I told my kids that when they say ‘whatever’ to me, I interpret it to mean, “Fuck you, Dad.”

Same kinda deal here with the SRV naysayers.

Fuck you…and your dads.

Rest in peace, Stevie.

Coming up on twenty years since you left us, and I still miss you brother, but your music continues to bring joy to my heart.


The thiiiiiiiiiiiiings… that I used to do… lawd I won’t… do no mo’…