Festival Bio:


http://m.festivalinternational.com/band/mike-dean-band

MIKE DEAN

 New song - Louisiana License Plate  (c) 2013 words and music by Mike Dean


http://youtu.be/jQ4CkRhPjkU

MIKE DEAN

 Tribute to George Jones - 4-27-13

http://youtu.be/kPgk2V_7HXw

Set List Festival International 2013 Lafayette, La.

SWEET LOUISIANA

SATURDAY

BUS BLUES

ATCHAFALAYA

100 YARDS

BOTTLE GOES DOWN

3 SHIRTS

7 AND 7

WOODS

INDIAN JOE

SEMINOLE WIND

90's Country Star

       My buddy Dusty Darbonne was the stage manager for Tracy Byrd for a while.  One Saturday he calls me up and tells me that Byrd is playing that night at the Grand Ole Opry, and would I like to come?  So I meet Dusty and Byrd at what appeared to be a bus storage lot.  Dusty pointed out one in particular, an old Silver Eagle, apparently Hank Jr's old bus.  So Dusty, Byrd, the driver and I rode through Nashville to Opryland (my first time there).  I go in with them and meet the band.  We hung around backstage and in the wings through two shows.  The crowd was especially excited when Byrd came out each show to do his two songs.  At the second show, he was asked by the host to do a 3rd number, which he obliged.  The other guests that night I remember were Buddy Jewel, the Del McCoury band and Jennifer Hanson.  Late that night after the bus dropped me back at my truck, I drove home slow.  I walked into my apartment and started playing this little bluesy groove I had come up with the week before.  I was thinking about Tracy Byrd and the conversation we had, and thinking about all of the guys that were on the radio in the 90's.  So many guys with the hat, buckle look.  That's where I got the line "dressed me up like George Strait."  Most of them don't have record deals anymore, but they are able to capitalize on their early success and do their own thing now.  It's actually a much better "deal" for them.  So I finished the song late that night (or early morning) and recorded a demo.  3 years later I was going through a bunch of stuff while moving and found a bunch of cds with nothing written on them.  I was about to throw them away, but decided to give them a listen just to be sure there was nothing I could use.  When this song played, I figured I'd better hang on to it.  When I brought into the studio a couple of changes were made, and it really came alive.  It's a favorite of many on the new record, and really fun to play live.



90's Country Star

Just out of Louisiana
across the Sabine River
in the Texas honky tonks
I made my money playing old Merle Haggard
Willie, and Waylon, and George Jones songs
Made my money in the clubs at night
then sleep all day
living life like a Skynyrd song
when I went to work for MCA

Big hit on the radio
tour bus, living large
packed house everywhere we'd go
look Mom, I'm a country star
I guess you forgot the good times we had
and all the money that you made on my back
because you're turning yours on me now
Mr., that's just sad

I'm singing well as I ever did
maybe a little better with age
it wasnt long ago that you sat me down
you said I was the next George Strait
now you're telling me that times have changed
radio don't like my songs
Mr. Record Man you better step aside
watch me do this on my own

All them papers that you made me sign
them songs I didnt want to sing
I did it because I trusted you
A handshake means something to me
Now you're telling me it's just my time
It's the nature of the game
While all them boys that you sign today
wind up in the bargain bend

I'm singing well as I ever did
maybe a little better with age
it wasnt long ago that you sat me down
you said I was the next George Strait
now you're telling me that times have changed
radio don't like my songs
Mr. Record Man you better step aside
watch me do this on my own

Country fans are starving
for something real, and something true
from now on it's gonna be me and them
No more piece of the pie for you

Yeah, I'm singing well as I ever did
maybe a little better with age
it wasnt long ago that you sat me down
dressed me up, like George Strait
now you're telling me that times have changed
radio don't want my songs
Mr. Record Man you'd better step aside
Mr. Record Man, won't you walk on by
watch me do this on my own

Middle Ground

I kissed her goodbye
watched her roll off on those four bald tires
wiped a tear from my eye
just in time to see her daddy smile

Football star on a state champ team
I guess it don't really mean anything
once you hang your gear up in the locker for good

Ain't no middle ground
in this old money and white trash town
a kid like me will never kick any doors down
every Friday morning
I watch that Greyhound roll on
I'm just trying to find my way gone

Daddy joined the Army
he was only seventeen
came back here after four years in Germany
every night he drinks a beer
wonders why he came back here

I was voted most likely to do nothing at all
I look around and I don't see any walls
what would keep a young man here?
It's a mystery to me

Ain't no middle ground
in this old money and white trash town
a kid like me will never kick any doors down
every Friday morning
I watch that Greyhound roll on
I'm just trying to find my way gone

One fine morning that old dog will pull up
air brakes will squeak
up come the dust
door will swing open
I'll find my seat
and tear off the chains
that this towns got on me

Ain't no middle ground
in this old money and white trash town
since graduation I've been wondering
what the hell to do now
every Friday morning
I watch that Greyhound roll on
I'm just trying to find my way gone


words and music by Mike Dean
(c) 2008, all rights reserved

SATURDAY

       I discovered Doop and the Inside Outlaws back in 2010.  I was checking out a few songs on iTunes, and as always, scrolled down the collection of masterpieces by Bruce Springsteen.  I noticed a cover of Prove It All Night.  It was a great rendition of a great song.  I couldn't help but notice some similarities between myself and the singer on this song.  The vocals, phrasing, and after purchasing both of Doop's albums, (he has 3 now)  I was very impressed by his songwriting.  I went on to read more about Detroit's Doop and the Inside Outlaws, and when I found out that he was also a firefighter, I knew I had to meet him.  I just wanted to hang out with this guy.  I had a string of shows booked through the Summer, so I emailed him and invited him down to open up for us.  Jason Valdetero, Travis Domingue (our drummer), Brian Marshall, and John McBride all agreed to learn Doop's set list so that he could have a band behind him.  He came down and played two shows with us.  He's since returned two separate times to play shows and visit with us.   He loves it here, and everyone loves Doop.  He as become a good friend to us, and has gained many fans in this area.
       When we started recording the Middle Ground album, I knew that I wanted to cover one of Doop's songs.  To me, the highest compliment you can pay a fellow songwriter is to cover one of their songs.  It came down to My Fault and Saturday.  I wasn't looking to record my favorite song by him, but more looking for something I might not necessarily write, but wish I did.  It had to fill a gap in the album.  Saturday was that song.  Well, he goes by Don Duprie now, and I'll let him tell you in his own words about Saturday:

       "When I was in my early 20s it was a good time to live in Michigan.  The economy was good, a lot of people I grew up with still lived in the neighborhood and most people weren't married with kids yet.  There used to be a few little bars where everybody would  hang out but there was one place that stood out.  It was called the Gate Inn.  It was right near a drawbridge that ran a shipping channel.  Old brick joint with an old cherry wood bar, dimly lit with its share of trouble but a great sense of community.  I wrote Saturday about that place and about going in there on the weekend after workin your ass off and finding that girl you saw the week before and been thinking about and hoping you could get to have a few drinks and dance with her before the night ends." - Don Duprie



SATURDAY by Don Duprie

Ive been gone
for so long now
I just cant wait
to see your smile
at the bar
at the end of town
ill meet you there
we'll have us a couple rounds

Saturday
let the music play
only came for one thing
Honey wont you dance with me

All week long
you've been working hard
you feeling bad
is breaking my heart
so tonight
just lay your troubles down
yea, cause tonight
we'll be turning round and round and round

Saturday
let the music ;play
only came for one thing
Honey wont you dance with me

I ain't leaving here
til I get my dance
and one more beer

Saturday
let the music play
only came for one thing
Honey wont you dance with me

Saturday
let the music play
we can act
like you're wearing my ring
honey wont you dance with me
honey wont you dance with me
honey wont you dance with me?

note: singing this song with Doop at our cd release party was a highlight for me.  Thanks Doop!

Atchafalaya

The next nine entries on this site will be dedicated to bringing you the lyrics and story behind each song on the new album, "Middle Ground".

       I spent the first half of 2009 in limbo.  I had just returned home after a stint in Nashville that went both really good, and really bad, depending on what part of that time up there I'm thinking about.  At one point in the Spring I was asked by a friend if I'd be interested in working on his farm for a couple of weeks, and I was obliged to do so.  The fields he worked were located in true Delta country, near the Morganza spillway and Atchafalaya river's beginnings.  Several of the good folks up there told me about The Bear's Den in Morganza, and how a scene from Easy Rider was filmed there.  I've always felt like driving down LA 1, north or south, is like taking a trip back in time.  They also told me about something called the Festival of Life which took place on the east bank of the Atchafalaya, shortly after Woodstock.  Although the numbers varied, one local told me that as many as fifty thousand hippies descended upon the area.  Several popular bands played also, but the one I remember being mentioned was Grand Funk Railroad.  Things didnt go as smoothly as Woodstock.  There were reports of people suffering from dehydration, and naked swimmers drowning in the river.
       I don't know enough of the facts to write about the Festival of Life.  But as the locals told me their tales of this event, I remembered hearing stories about it growing up.  I wondered why such an event wasn't documented further.  I said to myself, "someone should do a documentary about this, maybe write a song about it."  I didnt write a song about it, but I did hold onto a line that has sparked much curiosity ever since I played "Atchafalaya" for the first time.
       There is something about staring at a river.  During this same period of too much time on my hands, I'd drive to different spots along the river.  Id park my truck and sit on the tailgate and watch the powerful current and driftwood roll by.  That's what the song "Atchafalaya" is all about, with a nod to the Festival of Life.

Atchafalaya

You're big and you're muddy
and you roll really hard
nothing can rest in your way
trees rob your bank
and make a driftwood getaway

I've seen a whitetail buck
swim all the way across
bald eagle take a fish from you
way back in sixties
fifty thousand hippies partied here
for a week or two

and the blues, when I've got 'em
I toss "em into your brown water
and it frees my mind
Lord, it takes me higher
Atchafalaya

The Indians had great respect for you
saw you as a powerful thing
you bring life with your current headed toward the Gulf
help everybody make a living

They're always messing with you
a few miles up north
where you break from the Red and Mississippi
when will those engineers realize
the river makes her own levees?

and the blues, when I've got 'em
I toss "em into your brown water
and it frees my mind
Lord, it takes me higher
Atchafalaya

7 and 7

It was probably sometime in '05 that I was driving down some highway when I reached down into the door compartment, pulled out a pen and blank notecard, and wrote the phrase "7 and 7". I put it above my head in the ideas file (or visor, as some call it) with all the rest of the titles, rhymes, road names, quotes, signs, etc. that had struck me as somewhat interesting prior to this one. The band and I were having the time of our lives playing any place that would let us in the door. We had a song called 'Bottle goes down' that was getting lots of local airplay and this whole music thing was still brand new to me. In '07 I moved into a cool upstairs studio apartment with 20 foot high ceilings, old cypress walls, a ladder to a loft where the bed was, a bar within rock throwing distance, and cool neighbors. There was a big table made of old cypress in the corner. I put all of my song ideas in the upper left hand corner of that table. I'd sit there with my Martin guitar and go through these ideas, waiting for a chord and a lyric to ignite. Sometimes it was a Sunday morning while drinking coffee, sometimes it was late Tuesday night while drinking a cold beer. It was a good place to write. It rained a lot that year, and a train passed 3 or 4 times a day. Drew Landry stopped by often to play me his latest tune. I think he must have written a song a day back then. He had rented the place before me, until venturing across the street to open up Bourque's. One night I came across an old notecard. I read it aloud. "7 and 7". The train passed. Long after the whistle was fading, the rumble of the last car gave way to silence, and as if on que, I hit the first notes and opening line , "early in the morning, I get up and leave your side. I throw my bag on the chopper, we take off and we fly". About a year later Travis Domingue and I were at J. Burton's studio, laying the ground work for what would become "Woods". It's hard to believe it was 2008 that we presented that album to you. It doesn't feel like that long ago, but so much has changed. I still had a PC then, I mean, I'm writing this on a phone! Someone posted a recording of 7 and 7 on YouTube a couple of years ago. The lyrics appear as the song plays. I'm thankful for this. I'm thankful that someone was so moved by that song that they took the time to do that. I recently saw that it had over 20,000 plays (or views, if you prefer). Congratulations, 7 and 7. You're bigger than me. Thank you for what you've done for myself and those who share their musical talents with my songs. I write this in anticipation of our new album, Middle Ground. I wonder which songs will come to life on stage, or which one I'll be blessed to hear by chance on the radio. Will there ever be another 7 and 7? It doesn't matter. There is one, and now there is Middle Ground.