Please Help Me I'm Drawling..
Louie was christened Louis Jean-Louis Louis in Phoenix, Arizona, 1949. Louie can neither read nor write Music, play any instrument or sing. He does however, possess an enormous capacity for liking music. His major influences have been spike jones, p.g. wodehouse, groucho marx and Richard brautigan. Enough said. Louie's mother was both a doctor and a lawyer. She would hum to Louie late at night, simultaneously rocking him to sleep while sewing up gashed and lacer- ated drunks in her living room. She often subsequently defended these same miscreants in court against various assault and battery charges. As a consequence, Louie's early life was spent in the relative luxury of a middle class upbringing and it's easy to see where the interwoven themes of blood/love and blood/justice derived from. Louie's father was, oddly enough, an Indian chief. As would be expected, Louie's mom and dad encouraged Louie to follow in their foot-steps. Thankfully, for the music-loving world, Louie inhaled the smoke of a distant fire. Louie's first guitar was a Martin d9 'cat' which he never learned to play and eventually hocked for pennies on the dollar. He desperately needed cash (having drank up all his liquid assets the evening before), this being his 'down and out in Paris and London' period (actually it was gardena and el monte). Confused and alone, Louie migrated north to Alaska, stopping off along the way in Portland, for what he thought would be but a brief respite from the rigors of the road. It was to change his life forever, the lives of those around him and even the lives of those around those around him, though not necessarily for the better. Oregon seemed friendly, full of trees and bees; a good, warm, hearth-like place to work, play and raise a family (after marriage, of course). But, after several brief stints at the local McDonalds (every time they got a new manager, Louie got his job back), Louie was fired for good. Penniless, friendless, not knowing which way to turn (street signs were scarcer in the Portland of the sixties), Louie was at a crossroads in his life. Should he re-peroxide his hair and hitchhike back to Covina or try to make his stand in Oregon, where 'things looked different'? 'You make the call' wasn't an option in those days, Louie was on his own. Except of course, for those around him. Well, the rest, as they say, is history. Louie went on to write hit after hit, all of them stolen by Buck Ewings. Penniless, friend-less, not knowing which way to turn......wait a minute, we've been here already. Well, as you probably know Louie wrote a few more (when Buck wasn't looking back to see) and now you can hear them here now. It goes without saying that Louie's paid his dues, sung the blues and heard the news. Now he's here to express his views. So, settle back into the naugahyde, crack open a magnum of thunderbird and enjoy!