The terms that describe the musical acts at the Bayport BBQ, another area establishment that spins quality tunes, are as varied as its sound.
This club in an unlikely locale is self-proclaimed as a deep blues juke joint, although the City Pages out of Minneapolis-St. Paul also has done some proclaiming, dubbing it the area’s best blues venue in 2012.
That the kind of high praise you may see around the area for themed establishments, and in Hudson they include San Pedro with their trademark Caribbean food, and just down the block the Winzer Stube with its more-authentic-than-usual German cuisine.
But back at the Bayport BBQ, they feature national acts that play live when they come through the area, and are on stage various nights of the week, depending on their travel schedule, although usually its on a Friday or Saturday night. There usually is music twice a week, featuring blues played as an outsider, with alternative twists that might be considered obscure by those who don’t know the bands, owner Chris Johnson said. They are influenced by the northern Mississippi sound, and roots music. If you also like Americana, folk, bluegrass and rock, this might be your club.
“The bands are influenced by this raw kind of music,” Johnson said.
The club held their second anniversary in mid-October, with a 1980s rockabilly artist, Tav Falco’s Panther Burns. “Among those who know him he’s legendary, although with others he’s rather obscure,” Johnson said. The band, which has been led by vocalist and multi-media artist Falco since 1979, also features a psychedelic twist.
Other noteworthy players who have performed at Bayport BBQ include Alwin Youngblood Hart, who is a Grammy Award winner, and Kenny Brown, a slide guitarist who has played with well-known bands.
Then there’s the Rev. John Wilkins, a Gospel musician, whose father — also a reverend — originally did “Prodigal son,” which was covered by the Rolling Stones on their classic album “Beggar’s Banquet.”
The establishment was a fancy French restaurant, the Bayport Cookery, but then sat empty for about a year at its location just east of the main drag on Fifth Avenue North in Bayport. Now reinvented as the Bayport BBQ, the building has a multi-faceted storefront and interior, with more than one patio amongst its several distinct rooms, complete with large fireplace for ambiance. It is an intimate setting, with 60 seats available indoors, and more outside. A wall along the hall leading back toward the kitchen is adorned with dozens of photographs of artists who have performed at Bayport BBQ.
Johnson said the bands that play here are all the music that interests him, and he knows hundreds of artists, adding that each year he hosts a deep blues festival.
This may also be a case of come for the food, then stay for the band. The establishment has BBQ Texas style, made in the manner of dry rub with sauce on the side. It’s their own specially made sauce, placed on oak log smoked meat.
They also make their own bread fresh each day, stemming from the fact that Johnson was a baker as a young man, and the quality of the sandwiches is well-known, he said.
Meals are served Wednesday through Saturday, and this is not a late-night place, as they serve until 8 p.m. and music usually is on from 8-10 p.m.
For information, call (715) 410-1116, or (651) 955-6337.

The other day I stopped at a local watering hole and talked to the bartender, a friend I’ve known for several years named Josie Batchelor, only to find that without knowing it we’d actually crossed paths much earlier, the common denominator being music and a local drummer/singer who died way too soon.
I told Batchelor that night that she may not know it, but I’ve developed a reputation for singing with hard rock bands, that even has led to people paying me to go on-stage at open-mic nights and sing their favorite screamer.
Really, Batchelor replied, adding that in a lower key way she’d done the same thing, going years back. It started with her hanging out regularly on Thursday nights at Dibbo’s when the house band was an eclectic and very talented quartet called Captain i.
It turns out that we many times had sat just tables away from each other, then independent of one another engaged in conversation with the drummer, Jason “Ozzie” Oswald, who we both found out these years later was a mutual friend. It wasn’t long before I’d be taking a few turns singing heavy metal standards with Ozzie — whose band got me started doing these impromptu gigs — and whose calling card was that he not only pounds the skins, but sings at the same time.
So, I asked, how is Ozzie these days?
Haven’t you heard, came the response. He was killed in a local car crash. Late this November was the one-year anniversary.
In honor of Ozzie’s passion for music, initial plans were made to set up a band program where disadvantaged kids could obtain instruments was set up at New Richmond High School, where he attended not too many years ago.
When reached by phone, the band director, Matt Mealy, said he couldn’t confirm if such a thing had ever come to fruition, but he could confirm Ozzie’s passion for music. In fact, they were friends while growing up.
Captain i soon gained notoriety for its mix of songs and its antics onstage. To have a drummer sing lead vocals was unusual in itself, but there also was guitarist Nate, a stocky man who played barefoot while wearing shorts, even in winter, and careened nearly out of control back and forth during solos — at one point doing a sponatenous half-stage-dive. But shortly after they had recorded a CD — before that was something you could do yourself in unspectacular fashion — the band broke up just when they seemed headed for big things and were getting media attention that included tons of airplay on numerous college radio stations.
But when they were in their heyday of local performances, Batchelor and I ended up at the sessions because of mutual friends, who also knew the band. One of my best buds, Shawna, knew all those guys and the Thursdays on which we got together — and for a good year it was each week — became something to look forward to.
Shawna had heard me sing karaoke, but nothing more. So one night when it was slow, and Ozzie asked the crowd if there were any special requests, I just had to respond, “do you known any Black Sabbath?” You know, songs by that other Ozzy?
“We know Paranoid,” he responded.
“Can I sing it?” I dangled the idea.
It took a bit of persuation, but Ozzie let me come on stage.
One of his band members wasn’t too certain. “If it turns out that you suck, we’re gonna kick your butt,” he upped the ante.
Moments later, the band’s guitarists were laying down the song’s trademark, fuzzy introductory grooves, and my mind went blank.
I turned back toward the drum kit and asked Ozzie: “How do the words start?”
He frowned, and you could tell he thought I was just another wannabe. Then he spelled out the song’s first line for me.
To make the story short, I got my act together, and the newly energized crowd ended up spontaneously dancing, and a friendship was forged.
After Captain i disbanded, I ran into Ozzie periodically and always asked the same question — when are you getting the band back together? I told him that when he did, I wanted to blog about it.
Ozzie frequently said that he eventually had grown weary of the rigors of both playing the drums, vigorously and with a lot of extra fills, and singing as well. He wanted to be in a group where he could just be the drummer.
About a year ago, I kept running into him at County Market in Hudson, where he worked in the deli but people kept asking him about music. At first, the talks were lighthearted, such as when Ozzie asked rhetorically they were going to get some better canned music to play over the loudspeaker. And who would be the next Guns ‘N Roses-type big thing.
However, he soon started telling me that he indeed was going to be playing in a new band, and he seemed to be gaining a new energy over the prospect. He assured me he would let me know when it came to fruition.
Because of last November’s crash, we never got a chance to have that conversation.