Sean Patrick McGraw sings the National Anthem
Check out this video of Sean Patrick McGraw singing the National Anthem at the NHRA Summit Finals Race in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Sean Patrick McGraw – ACM Weekend In Vegas
Check out this video of Sean Patrick McGraw’s ACM weekend in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Spoiled???
My wife has told me on more than one occasion that I’m spoiled.
“People always buy you the best birthday presents”
TRUE.
“Your sisters always get you the best Christmas presents.”
TRUE AS WELL.
“I always get you the nicest clothes.”
YES Dear, you DO.
But so far as being spoiled I have defended against this accusation with the fact that I work long hours, take a lot of crappy gigs, get very little sleep sometimes, and nothing I ever got was gotten easy. I believe that.
But as for being spoiled? I‘d have said NO. Not me.
And then I have weekends like this last…and It’s hard top say I’m not.
I was supposed to be in Key West this last weekend. That wouldn’t have sucked either; but it would have been to work and when I play a gig like Cowboy Bills I play afternoon shifts in addition to the ones at night with the band and it usually adds up to over forty hours of actual singing in week. For someone who’s ever swung a hammer (and I have) for a living that might still sound like living on easy street. But to someone who’s never put their vocal chords to work like that I say “try it.” It ain’t easy and chances are you’ll blow out your pipes about half way through. I’ve done that and had no choice but to keep on chugging and it was painful.
Literally.
But my Key West plans got shelved when my management confirmed me a bike— a Harley–for the “Chairmans Ride,” a small annual bike rally that the ACM’s put on that is hosted by Country’s Montgomery Gentry. Now if you’re thinking I’m spoiled because my Job sends me out on Harley ride-–well, you’re RIGHT.
I got down to the back entrance of the MGM Grand in Las Vegas Saturday morning not knowing what bike they were gonna put me on, not knowing who I’d know-–if anybody–in the ride, not really positive that I had bike to ride. Jeff Yapp (from my label) had backed out of making the trip at the last minute and I was thinking “there goes my cycle…” And when I went over to Ricky Kelly(owns Harley Dealership in Columbia TN, procures bikes for this event, rode way oui in front of me at Sturgis last year, figured he wouldn’t remember me) and said “Hey.” Ricky’s like “Hey Sean, how’ve ya been, bike?? What bike? Were we supposed to find a bike for you? I don’t think we have one…maybe someone ‘ll let you ride on the “bitch seat….” Starts laughing. “Na man, we got you a bike, it’ right over there.” And the bike was a sweet-looking silver Fat Boy with a springer front end.
That totally didn’t suck.
It takes awhile to assemble everybody, for everyone to arrive but eventually there’s about a hundred people there, about half of them famous, and If you want me to drop names (even though Garth once told me that was very uncool to do) I’ll tell you that Eddie Montgomery, Troy Gentry, James Otto, Randy Houser, Leeann Rimes and her boyfriend from that CSI Show and Anthony Smith and Ash Bowers were all there. After we all took a picture together this dude come over and says “Sean?” And the dude is Shawn Pennington. Shawn used to be band leader for Sara Evans and he hired me for a few Kellie Coffee gigs when he worked with her and I felt bad I didn’t recognize him right away but it’s been a long, long time. And Shawn and I catch up for a few minutes before it’s time to ride and the pack takes off down Tropicana Blvd and gets on the interstate and right away somebody ahead of me almost gets taken out by a car, but we do have a police escort with us so they get to blocking the perimeters and the ride is pretty chill at 50mph heading north out of Vegas. Toby Keith’s agent Curt Motley rides the inside lane next to me. I’d ridden with Curt last year and he’s a real good dude—gotten me a few gigs since then as well. Ash Bowers and this behemoth-sized guy ride right in front of us. (I find out later on the Airforce bus that the giants name is Steve Hutchinson. Plays guard for the Minnesota Vikings. Real nice guy too) We exit the interstate at Vegas Speedway—-where I’ll be singing the National Anthem the next morning—and head south (if I remember correctly) to Nellis Airforce base, where—rumor has it—we’re all gonna get to shoot some machine guns (yeah I know, like that’s not fun, right?) And they have us park the bikes at this lot off the road. I introduce my self to Randy Houser by saying
“hey Jamie, I ‘m a big fan..”
He’s like
“I’m Randy.”
I’m like
“I meant to say Randy…I was just hearing stories about you and Jamie (Johnson) from Bill LaRose (from Cowboy Bills in Key West) and my brain got it backwards.”
I think Randy might have even been a little offended or something? Hard to tell..par for the course for me to mess up somebody’s name like that…but then later I remembered that Randy is good friends with my cowriter Bruce Wallace and I mentioned something along those lines to Randy and he brightened up at me a little and I didn’t feel like such a germ.
So we get off the bikes and onto a couple busses. I start a conversation with these folks setting next to me and the guy introduces himself as “Tonto.” And it turns out he’s a Lt Colonel in the Airforce and has used most all of this stuff-–as in weaponry–-in combat, as Iraq and Afghanistan.
“You’re about the have a lot of fun,” he says in so many words.
And we’re lead by a group of soldiers to a metal building set alongside a couple of humvee chassis suspended in this heavy steel apparatus and it’s explained to us that these are combat simulators used to train troops to deal with roll-over situations. Inside the building is a virtual reality street warfare simulator–basically a big–video game–with an armored humvee in the middle of the room surrounded by video of a combat situation. There are two M-14 rifles set up with laser devices that allow you to lock on combatants projected on the wall and take them out. I’ve never had a wii or nintendo but this is like that (I think) ‘cept waaay cooler. The Humvee has a turret-mounted fifty caliber rifle. James Otto is on the .50 cal while Randy Houser and I man the small arms. Soldiers teach us how to eject the clips and reload the weapons. It’s hard to give up your gun but everyone gets a turn. I fire at enemy shooters, aiming at targets farthest away (turkey hunting style like Sgt York).
THIS is fun.
From the simulators the bus takes us down the road to a firing range and there are several concrete shooting bunkers and-–holy CRAP– two humvee’s with the turret-mounted .50cal guns. REAL Ones; a tripod-mounted .50 cal SAW, a grenade gun, several M-14′s on bi-pods… COOL shit. Boy’s toys.
Scary-deadly pieces of equipment.
Troy Gentry sits behind the SAW first and they–the soldiers–teach everybody how to load the guns and then it’s ‘fire away’ and HOLY SHIT are those things powerful. Maybe not as loud as I would have guessed, but the concussion from every burst does a tap-dance on your chest.
“I think I’m gettin’ a woody” I said Curt Motley
I waited behind the SAW while Lee Ann Rimes went next and I meant to tell her that nothing makes a hot chick hotter than watching her shoot an automatic weapon (I don’t know why I never got the nerve, she seems nice enough) and eventually it’s my turn at the .50cal and I didn’t bring my camera but thankfully Curt has his i-phone and is happy to take a little video of my initiation to not just machine guns but really BIG machine guns. I took aim at the shell of a rusted jeep about 600 yrds away and pressed the trigger and watched clouds of dust pop up in the distance as the big rounds hit the ground in front of the jeep and it’s hard to keep one of those things on point when your holding down for any extended burst, the recoil’s not that ridiculous but the gun moves enough and I’m thing it would be hard to hit a small running target at this range but if you were on the receiving end of such battery no doubt you would literally shit yourself.
Eventually everybody in the group gets a turn at every gun there. The grenade gun is pretty cool, so is the turret mounted .50 ( I got a burn on my back from a hot spent jacket of brass when I dropped down from the turret––how cool is that?)…. but I think the M-14 may have even been my favorite if only because the ribbons of ammo are longer, the rate of fire greater and, with the bipod mount you can hold down that trigger for a good long time and watch your target—in this case another rusted out jeep—literally shred in front of you. And I don’t care who you are or what your politics are if you didn’t get a little giddy playing with this stuff I’d say there was something seriously wrong with you.
God bless America.
I really am spoiled.
Sean Patrick McGraw, Make It Happen
Check out this article from Country Fried Rock to see what they have to say about Sean Patrick McGraw.
“Maybe great-great uncle (or is it cousin?) Frank really is Tim’s grandfather, or maybe it’s just a common Irish name; it doesn’t really matter when you’ve got such incredible country music talent as Sean Patrick McGraw. SPM solidly commands his professional journey, supporting his music by creating sponsorship partners with brands he already liked, such as Jagermeister. The crowds at his live shows demonstrated strong bar sales of the “medicinal quaff,” so sending the company videos of his audience shout-outs for Jager and the data from increased bar sales during his shows made a natural mutually-beneficial realtionship. If this music gig doesn’t work out, SPM will become the greatest salesperson in product placement history. He’s a natural.”
[Read the full article at country-fried-rock.blogspot.com]
Packing At A Hundred Miles Per Hour…..
I can never get out of town with out stressing over a million little things that need to get done before I’m good to go and yesterday is no exception. I spent most of the day writing (songs) and me and Deric (Ruttan) actually managed to finish one in one sitting (doesn’t usually happen) and I told the wife I’d meet her for lunch and I rushed home to make that happen and then I had a meeting with Cassie-at-crowd-surf down at Fido and she thinks it would be great if I could post more pics on my site and I’m all about whatever it is I need to do to further the carreer in the virtual world so I promise to get a camera before I get on the plane in the morning (I did have a camera, but it was stolen in Key West in February) so I run to target after our meeting and pick up a cheap Kodak and rush home to mow the lawn that I’d promised to mow before I left town and at the same time it’s getting late and it’s my job to light the grill and cook the Buffalo Burgers (as in Buffalo meat, not Buffalo sauce) and (I think) I light the grill and then I get the lawn mower started and I get the lawn mowed and walk to the back yard and the charcoal is cold and it’s a matter of building a fire to start a fire (wife has something against lighter fluid) and that takes some doing and at the same time I’m supposed to bake the oven fries and I get the oven going and Oh yeah, I need to try and check in online and I can’t seem to figger that out and I get hold of my mom who has all my frequent flyer info and at the same time the phone starts ringing and there are gigs coming in that I need to confirm and I need to get supper done ‘cause it’s like seven-thirty at night and if I’m getting up at 4am I should try and be in bed at nine–I know it won’t happen–and I haven’t even packed yet, but that’s no big deal, my clothes are all hanging in my closet right? And the wife gets home and we have supper and talk about the shit married people talk about and I haven’t packed yet (but whatever) and it’s getting late so I start rounding up my stuff for my trip; I’ll need my helmet and gloves and leather jacket for the Love Ride, a nice pair of jeans or two for the ACM’s and I have more shirts than a man should have but for some reason half of ‘em are too BIG for me (did I shrink?) And half are to small (did my shirts shrink?) And I have two or three blue shirts that I like and I grab the two that I can find that I’d consider “back-ups” and the one that I always wear, the one that I live in on tour is nowhere to be found and it wouldn’t be a big deal but that’s the shirt I was planning on wearing cause it fits the best and the wife is in bed already and she’s trying to sleep and I’m trying not to make noise but I’m tearing the closet apart and where the hell IS that damned shirt? and after taking every last thing out of the closet I still ain’t found it and it’s now after 11pm and I’m thinking about the sleep I’m not gonna get and I say “screw it it, I’ll wear black.”
Thankfully I slept pretty good.
More Wisdom From Sin City
So I get to Vegas around noon or so after a non-eventful flight that’s just bumpy enough to wake me up every time I start to fall asleep…I’m here for a couple reasons: I got invited on the LOVE RIDE–details of which at this moment I still know NOTHING about other than this will involve celebrities and harley davidson’s and I don’t care if RATT sang “Nobody Rides fo Free..” Tomorrow I am indeed riding for free and I am here to attend the Academy of Country Music Awards which really means I’m here to be seen at the Academy of Country Music Awards and I’m here to write about it for CountryTattletale.com and then on Sunday I’m here to sing the national anthem at as ACM event out at the Vegas Speedway which is also an NHRA event so I’m guessing after I get to the part where I sing “and the home of the brave” I can say “Gentlemen, start your engines…”
Love that part.
Anyhoo.
I’ve learned a few things today.
I’ve learned that If you’re a married guy who doesn’t gamble and who’s not in the mood to drink all day…maybe there’s not really a lot to do in Las Vegas. I mean, there are shows…none that I really want to se so bad, and there is Vegas itself, which I’ve seen a lot of in the last six months…and it’s HOT and I couldn’t get motivated to walk the strip earlier….and there’s food; but I’ve learned that if you want a little bit to eat-–something to just hold you over–you are not going to find it here unless you eat fast food and hey, this is Vegas. There is a Wolfgang Pucks and a “Pearl” downstairs. You don’t eat Del Taco….
So I tried to have a “light” lunch; and the closest I could come was a chicken salad at the Mexican place next door and it was enough for three people and okay, I had a beer while I was eating and sitting at the bar I witnessed several patrons purchase these “yards” of Marguerita’s that are basically a walking beer-bong full of Tequila and they cost about $20 apiece and I guess if they really have six shots per Marguerita-Bong that’s not such a bad deal but I’m sitting there and these dudes from Long Island (I know that accent anywhere) come in and order a round and it comes to $100….(Okay, when in Vegas, I guess.) But I’m thinkin’ I’d go broke here If the band started drinking like that and as inviting as the Marguerita-Bongs look I think it best to abstain as of yet (it’s noon) and I finish-–as in clean my plate-–the HUGE salad and it’s a beautiful day so I figure I’ll go sit by the pool at the MGM Grand and it was here by the pool I learned a few other things.
1) that “small” Marguerita you order by the pool costs as much as the HUGE one you can get on the street so you might as well get the one on the street.
2) Kenny slept with that Crazy B*tch LeeAnn twice and maybe he would have slept with her more (he didn’t refer to it as sleeping with her) but she wasn’t that hot. She was hot enough, but Kenny rides motorcycles, it sounds like he races them and it sounds like Kenny has his pick of hot chicks to sleep with, even though the euphemism Kenny uses to describe the act is much more vulgar. ( I heard this from twenty feet away)
3) Kelly and her “Crazy Biotch” (that’s what she calls her) gal-pal Lisa have been here a week and they’ve been partying like rockstars even though they’re both underage, but Kelly has her friend Jenn’s ID and they look enough alike that “even when the bouncers know it’s not you it’s close enough and they don’t throw you out ‘cause they want hot young thing like us in there…” Kelly often calls her crazy-biotch gal-pal Lisa her “Nigga” and it makes me wonder if it’s ever okay for white girls to use this as a term of endearment…I’m not looking to see if they’re looking over their shoulders when they call each other this.
4) There are plenty of balding middle aged men at this pool with lots of gold jewelry around their necks who leer at Kelly and her crazy biotch friend who will never ever under any circumstances do what they’d like to do to girls like them..
5) Even a beer by this pool is pretty expensive
So after a couple hours of sitting by the pool returning phone calls (I had to feel like I was doing something productive) I went back inside, Ostensibly to go to my room and I was walking through the Casino and If I forgot one of the reasons I’m in Vegas I’m reminded when I’m walking across the room and I run Into someone I Know in the music business–Rory Feek—and Rory is an old friend and he gives me a bug hug and I say hey to his daughter and her boyfriend and we catch up on all that’s gone on since the last time we’ve seen each other which was at the CMT Video Awards and Rory and his lovely Wife Joey (together known as Rory and Joey) have been on tour with the Zach Brown Band and according to Rory that all went very well and we’re standing there talking and someone Rory know’s who looks familiar to me walks uo and they start talking and I’m introduced and I realizes it’s Jay Frank from CMT–the guy responsible for allowing my video to get played on the network…and I’m like “dude, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you..” And he and I realize that we’ve really only met once face-to-face and it’s no-worries nice-to-see-you-again.
Meanwhile, the super-jumbo {BTW “Jumbo” as a euphemism for “really BIG” comes from the real Elephant named Jumbo, who was not named that because he was BIG, but who caused people to use the term “JUMBO” as an adjective for large because indeed Jumbo-the-Elephant was HUGE—and he made PT Barnum a lot of $$$ and was sadly killed as he was lead across a set of Railroad tracks and hit by a locomotive at high speed….sorry to digress, I read that on the plane this morning} The super-jumbo-mambo Salad that I had for lunch was now but a hollow memory form the pit of my stomach and I felt the need to ingest more sustenance should I decide to partake in that past-time so endemic to Vegas (I needed to eat so’s I could drink—Kelly and her crazy-biotch friend Lisa were going to eat so they could continue to party—maybe that’s where I got the idea) So I walked with Jay Frank to the front of the Casino and said “later” and figured I’d head across the street and hit Diabolo’s for Happy-Hour and I went outside and there was no seating at the restaurant and I started to thinking maybe I should go back in and see who else I might run into and sure enough I stick my head back inside the MGM Grand and I hear “Sean Patrick McGraw!!” from across the room and it’s my old friend Jay Jackson who used to play bass for me but who know plays steel for Jason Aldean and he’s looking for something to eat as well so I suggest that we see if we can get on the list across the street and we go to Diabolo’s and write our names down and “yes” we can sit at the bar while we wait, even though there’s no where to sit at the bar but as we walk up to order some Dos Equis these two dudes get up so me and Jay sit down and order up some burrito’s and catch up on what life on the road has done to both of us in the last year, and some of it maybe I could share and some of it is juicy gossip but all I know is it’s great to be in a band and It’s great to be in Vegas with an old good friend eating Mexican food as the pretty girls walk by….
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Jager Countr Tour w/ Eric Church Epilogue
I suppose anyone’s who’s followed the jager blogs might wonder why I haven’t talked about the last night of the tour yet and I’ve been meaning too but there’s a few thing about life on the road that maybe I haven’t shared yet and they are: 1) I myself do much, probably most of the driving. 2) after the Boulder show we-the-band-and-crew drove non stop to Cleveland, where we-the-band-and-crew parted ways and I myself drove all the way to Nashville without stopping and I’m figuring I stayed awake for the most of 40 hours or so and if you’ve ever been on the road for almost a month solid you will leave things at home in a certain state of disarray and upon your return there will be a virtual, if not literal honey-do list a mile long and this indeed was the case upon my return to Davidson Co. TN and it is only now after two weeks back at home that I find myself in the position of sitting on the couch on a Sunday afternoon in the status of having the privacy fence repaired, the rock garden weeded, the rental property painted, the phone calls made, the lawn mowed, the miles run, the books balanced, the taxes done, the water heater fixed, the mailings sent, the recycling taken in and the rubbish at the curb.
So I figured I’d get around to the end of the story with regards to the Jager Country Tour w/ Eric Church.
And to be honest, I may be motivated by not one, but several cases of mistaken Identity, the particular incident in this case being the behavior of someone bearing my resemblance on the last night of the Tour, someone bearing resemblance to behavior that I may have been guilty of a time or two along the road but in this specific case, not so. I ain’t yer guy….
Precisely, I may have partied like a rockstar on several occasions on the Jager Tour, the nights end in Boulder NOT being one of them.
But let’s start at the beginning of the end. (Of the tour, that is). I stayed in nearby Winterpark, CO skiing as late as I could call it on Saturday. Rumor has it that that day was one of the best of the year, and thankfully, gratefully–for as little as I get to ski–I was there to enjoy the excellent conditions and the equally excellent company. I left the mountain at 2pm figuring that if my band couldn’t do today’s soundcheck without me, as they have done many times in the past, then fates simply fell that I did not deserve to sound good tonight and this is something beyond my influence in the universe.
Simply: they’ll figure it out without me.
If not, shit happens.
So I got to Boulder pretty late in the day and I seemed to arrive at the Boulder Theater at about the same time everybody else I could have expected to attend arrived: there was my old neighbor Michael Frey on the curb as I parked. As I got out of the car a voice called out “Hey, Sean Patrick McGraw…” and it turned out to be a facebook friend and after exchanging pleasantries and introductions with Sweet Caroline and her friend here comes Hilary-Girl-Friday down the street and we all walked inside the venue and hurried-up-to-wait. Michael and I caught up on a few years since we’d seen each other and my guys got our gear onstage and after not-too-long a wait we got a good sound check and it was already almost time to play and you think the last night of a tour is going to be a big last-hurrah and maybe it was for the other bands but for me it’s a happy thing to know that you got added to all those shows you never expected to be on and it was all great, but now it’s all over and it’s little sad feeling in with the satisfied feeling. We’d gotten some little gifts to say “thanks for having us,” and they’d been given to the Jager guys and to Josh Thompson and Eric Church and Rick Monroe and Rick came up before our set and gave me a big hug and said “thanks” and Josh Thompson came up and shook my hand and we wished each other the best of luck and we said so-long to all Josh’s guys and me and the band and Keith (our road Mgr) and Rick Monroe all did one last shot of Jager before our set and we-the-band just walked out on stage and rocked it like I guess you rock it when you know you don’t have to save anything for the next day, and Boulder as an audience was pretty great and it’s always a little bit of a blur playing music, it’s like being in a fight or playing sports, it happens fast and it’s a mix of terror and triumph and it’s adrenaline and sweat and it’s over before ya know it.
So to be honest, sometimes I remember more about the catering at a gig than I do about playing the gig. (It was superb in Boulder by the way, a little adventurous, well realized, fresh, hot and the well paired with the local beer). And I remember the hang upstairs and coming down from the balcony and signing a LOT of stuff and meeting some great people and I wish we could have gone to all the after-party stuff we got invited to but having partied my fair share during this tour I felt obliged to offer up driving us back to Denver so I chilled after a couple beers and let everyone else in the entourage party–figuring, hell, we’ll make a beer run on the way back and have a big time at the hotel….
(And I should mention that I watched all of Eric Churches set. I did almost every night of the tour and he’s really really awesome. And I expected some kind of pranking to occur on the last night and I want to say that Josh Thompson and his guys walking out dressed like freaks in drag during Eric’s set was AWESOME.)
But I was talking about catering and partying…
So–addressing that girl who emailed me today, that girl who-–like at least a dozen others–-confused me with someone else:
I was NOT hanging out by the busses at the end of the night. Regretfully I never had a chance to get back and thank Eric one last time for having us so,
ERIC, THANK YOU.
THANK YOU JAGER MEISTER.
And If you really, really think that was me all lacquered up and being a goof backstage let me say that yes Indeed I DID get lacquered up and goofy on more than one occasion on the tour, but tonight I was letting my peeps misbehave while I was the grownup and I’m positive you mistook me for somebody else ‘cause I never was backstage after we finished our set and while there may have been-–and will be–-times when I will get drunk, I never, ever stand around saying “I’m so drunk.”
I say “Hell I’m fine….”
as I fall on my ass.
So anyway. There were at least a dozen occasions on the tour when somebody would walk up to Keith (my road mgr) thinking he was me (we look maybe like brothers???) but I’ve never seen Keith inebriated so I’m thinkin’ that wasn’t him either.
So I don’t know…
I just know that every tour will eventually come to an end and it’s a happy thing and a sad thing and I’ll miss everybody and as for that big party back at the hotel..it consisted of me and a bag of chips and one Bud light watching TV as everybody went to their rooms to crash…
at midnight.
This is rock and roll
We’re livin’ the dream.
This was great.
Can’t wait for what happens next
peace
sean