Style Station

Hey folks, Chuck here. It’s been a minute, or three.

Next week, me and my Cumbia Shoes are heading out for shows in Texas and a few other points beyond, including Louisiana, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Connecticut before we head home.

In anticipation of roaring down I-35 in the Ford Econoline: a plug for STYLE STATION!

As if the road doesn’t present to you enough weirdness, without going out and looking for it. When we’re in Texas I do hope to visit our friends Art and Rebecca who are camped out just off I-35, somewhere north (or maybe south… it depends on your mood) of Dallas. We haven’t been there in ages.

First time we rolled in, years ago – thanks to Tom Heyman for the tip – we crunched into that gravel driveway in the van and parked. Before the dust even settled, here comes the proprietor, Art, squinting into the sun like he’s in a Western. In my mind he’s carrying a shotgun. But, I can’t say for certain. But it was Texas. That much I’m sure of.

He says, “Y’all in a band?”

We go, “Uh, yeah… “

He’s all, “What band?”.

And we’re all, “Uh, Chuck Prophet.”

He looks us up and down. “I think y’all are liars.”

Awkward silence.

Then he says, “I know for a fact Chuck Prophet went down in that plane crash with them Skynyrd fellas.”1

Now I’m thinking: this is my kind of guy. A man with conviction. Belligerent, but with a kind of twinkle in his eye. I like this place already.

Art ends up being a great hang. Aside from the deep stock of vintage clothes, Art’s got a PhD in Detroit Rock City — The Stooges, MC5, Fred “Sonic” Smith and a host of Michigan legends. Aside from a deep knowledge of obscure rock ’n’ roll B-sides, he’ll get into the tensile strength of 1973 selvage denim, the elusive art of yarn character, or just exactly how much weed Willie Nelson goes through in a week. Not to mention conspiracy theories that run from Huntsville Penitentiary to why Jerry Jeff Walker used to pay his sidemen so poorly.

Listen to the professor!

And Rebecca? Clearly the brains behind Pa in more ways than one, is holding down the fort. Counting out the change.

If you’re drifting down I-35 and feel the urge to try on a Levi jacket while somebody talks over an Iggy Pop record loudly, this is the place. (Just ask Kelly.)

We never pass up a chance to pull into that gravel lot and pay our respects.

I just called over there. And yes, it’s still there! Art answered – and yelling over what sounded like a loud TV, said, “We’re not on the internet! We’re open 10 to 4:30, 7 days a week.”

Boom!

They got it all. Vintage stock. New stock. Brand used or NWT (That’s “new with tags” to you) or NOS (“New old stock”).

Onwards,

-CP