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"Crescendo"
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A Night with “Those Guys” at the Rio Grande
On any given Friday, you can saddle
up and head down to the Rio Grande Restaurant in Guilford.
Transplanted south-westerners can find comfort in Rio’s saloon decor
to cure their homesick blues. An Aztec Sun shines from the backrest
of each metal bar stool. An orange, sunset glow reflects off each
copper counter top. Cactus greens, in Native American zigzag
patterns, sprout from the fabrics. Colorful banners advertise Dos
Equis and Coronas - just like mom served up on the mesa. The
jukebox don’t dare sit on the floor but rather hangs safely from the
wall, perhaps fearing a barroom brawl where bodies pile up in its
corner. There’s a pool room, of course, that also houses two arcade
games serving to remind the transplants of their wide-open western
spaces: Golden Tee Golf and Deluxe bowling? Not! The only other
game is a poker arcade sitting on the bar: the fun of real
poker without worryin’ ‘bout the ol’ card up the sleeve.
The sign pointing to the restrooms simply says “River,” and the
greeting over the entrance invites the weary cowpoke to “Relax.”
Rio’s worn wooden floor is stained with beer and tequila; and was
that drool or spent “tobaccee” causing me to skid during my cowboy
two-step? Whatever, the atmosphere is designed for fun and party-hardyin’
and even boasts a few modern conveniences like a mega-flat TV and …
running water (just kidding).
Rio Grande’s exterior is the latest
in a quartet of construction styles. Only the locals can remember
when the edifice sported the orange roof and “pancake man”
weathervane of the original HoJos, then the “jumping tuna” etched in
the large picture window of the Sea Breeze, and later the Oriental
“flip” shingles which looked like joker’s shoes dancing atop the
Ichiban Japanese house. From that past only two sea-themed remnants
remain: a flowing banner that shouts, “Don’t give up the ship,” and
the errant whale fluke that sticks out from the wall above the
entrance to the poolroom. Today, although Rio’s stucco exterior
won’t be fooling any passing adobe geologists, and the rumble from
route 1 traffic only remotely conjures up the thunder of migrating
buffalo, there is no question as to Rio’s design or intent, and the
restaurant does not disappoint.
Kim and I came this night to hear
“Those Guys,” the acoustic duo of Bill Welch and Rick Barker. The
name evolved from gigs when customers commonly queried, “who are
those guys?” Answer: “yes.” Turns out Bill and Rick can boast a
music-making longevity that’s outlasted many of the most celebrated
bands in the state. Funny thing is, you can’t really pin them down
to specifics of origin. Rick says they first met at a “hootenanny”
held at the Stony Creek Puppet House back in ’83. Bill says it was
before that, somewhere in Branford, but not sure where. They added
a third member sometime in the mid-‘80s and named the group “Homer
Stone” after some ol’ grizzly mountain dude that Rick once met in a
two-holer, or something like that. The unique trio was
polydexterous, interchanging chairs on guitar, bass and drums. Rick
can’t recall all the details but is pretty sure they once opened for
Arlo Guthrie and several times for Aztec Two-Step. Bill is pretty
sure they once even opened for (fasten your seatbelts) Spencer Davis
and that they were even bold (naïve) enough to play the “Homer”
rendition of “I’m a Man” before the shocked superstars took the
stage. The local crowd preferred the interpretation from the
hometown boys. Spencer Davis asked for royalties on the spot. 
The trio eventually
grew to a quintet in the ‘90s, sometimes employing a female singer,
sometimes temping new drummers as often as Spinal Tap. Eventually
Dean and Mario passed the band-chemistry test, and the new group
debuted as The Charm. This cohesion appeared as regular party
generals at CT bars and “occasions” for over a decade. They played
for the crowd of over 5,000 at the Branford Festival. They were
featured at Bar-New Haven’s live “wig-outs” with the “wig master”
from WPLR. The few times I heard The Charm during their regular
Saturday night gig at the Woodlawn in Madison the band could
absolutely wail and keep pace with the best dance bands in the
state. Inevitably, the dance floor would be glazed with the sweat
from hoofers grinding to Charm’s stellar arrangements from Motown,
Beatles, Soul, California rock, Southern rock and more.
But, the club circuit can be harsh,
music opportunities ebb and flow, and even a rock band needs to do
some corporate downsizing. I asked Bill to describe the duo’s
current playlist and style. “We’re not really an oldies band,” he
laughs, “cuz we merely aged with the music. Hell, these songs were
brand new when we first learned ‘em. And … we’re not really a
wedding band, but if you ask us to play at your wedding, guess what
– we’re a wedding band.”
Actually, the duo is the perfect
sound track for the Rio’s mood. It feels like family standing in
the long narrow space of the galley-styled bar. The hand-written
blackboard over the bar sets the tone with
 “Don’t
wait for Valentine’s Day; love
someone tonight.” Later in the evening you can’t help but butt your
neighbor and start up a new conversation with yet another, “excuse
me.” Those Guys fuse the family groove using their mikes to mingle
as if just regular crowd gringos. They yawn, scratch, joke, reveal
personal habits and family trials, try new tunes on the spot and
stop mid-phrase when things start to go south; and they accommodate
the sober and the less-thans by accepting all requests (“we take
‘em, we just don’t always do ‘em”).
Categorically, no one offers the open
mike as freely as Those Guys. At times, their gig could be
classified as “live karaoke.” For example, local Al Paccino
look-alike, John Raccio, shows up braggin’ “there ain’t no Beatles’
song I can’t sing.” Sure enough, he’s got no problem with “Nowhere
Man,” “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” “Norwegian Wood” or “Ticket to Ride”
and sometimes even sings on pitch. No matter, Bill and Rick are
happy to provide the instrumental licks and harmonies, complete with
convincing Liverpoolian styling and inflection. Whether at the mike
or spilling drinks at the bar, the cattle are corralled with
contagious refrains from Eagles, James Taylor, Pure Prairie League,
Stones and Little Feat; and Guilford’s own western sky is filled
with sing-along fun.
But none of this would have lasting
impact if our two boys were not stellar and gifted musicians. Both
alternate on lead and rhythm guitars producing riffs that run the
frets with surprising invention. Bill pulls out his flute for some
novel embellishment and low and behold, the guy can toot with the
likes of jazz great, Dave Valentin. What? He then carves Delbert
McClinton musical shapes from each of his
 five
harmonicas? And since both boys are drummers, they are just four
hands short of actually being The Righteous Brothers and
their band.
All in all Those Guys are the perfect
guitar slingers to anoint the nouveau-gringo at Guilford’s
southwestern watering hole, The Rio Grande. Stop by for a whiskey,
some yapping and wranglin’ with the locals, some tasty chuck-wagon
specials, and fix your hankerin’ for a sweet tune with the best duo
on the shoreline. And … like
the ending of another heroic episode of the Lone Ranger, y’all be
askin’, “Who were Those Guys?”
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If you are in the Connecticut area
and would like Brian to come down and check out
your band, please contact him @
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