Let's Go Cruise Wegman's

"I know it's two AM, but ain't ya still my friend?
It's so hard to get you off my mind.
I just had to hear you one more time."
Bat McGrath, Blue Eagle, From The Blue Eagle (1976)

Noting the passing of singer-songwriter Bat McGrath.

You've probably never heard of him. Maybe you've never heard any of his songs. Maybe you don't know that he was one of Rochester, NY's prodigal sons. That's totally okay.

Back in the 70s it was Chuck Mangione, Don Potter, the Rochester Philharmonic and Bat McGrath. They made a Grammy-nominated record, played to packed houses and crafted a unique, unmistakable sound instantly recognizable across the years.

His songs were catchy, ingenious. Anyone living in Western NY could instantly understand time, place and manner. He's at a red-neck bar called The Blue Eagle, on a pay phone with an ex-girlfriend he can't get off his mind. He's bored - let's go check out the counter girls at Wegman's: they're open all night. Let's go find a beach along the western coast of Florida, because "There ain't no stoned out hippies mauling you."

From The Blue Eagle was released about the time I was preparing to chase a few dreams into Colorado. It didn't go according to plan, initially. I felt alone and abandoned, scraping together a meager living, trying to maintain the most precarious of toe holds, living in a rooming house and delivering pizza in the DU area into the wee hours. Uncertainty a constant companion, I plied my trade in an old Chevy Impala my cousin had nicknamed "The Gold Ghost."

And, didn't I see a familiar poster in a record store window one night, an album cover - back when they were an art form - of Bat McGrath. "Yeah, it's me. I'm at The Blue Eagle." Man, I knew the feeling.

He  wanted to write music and live on a farm, his wife commented. He got to do both. I wanted to make a life in Colorado, have some kids and find a calling. Check.

Didn't we both get what we came for, after all.