James Hinkle

Monday sucks, Tuesday's a little better, but Wednesday -- ah, wonderful Hump Day -- is that mid-week time when the gods of wine and revelry infiltrate the human spirit and say, "Get thee to a club and drink beer and tequila shots and listen to live music, and don't forget to tip thy waitress." Blues lovers who follow that creed are in a quandary. Two clubs offer jams that night. Luckily, one stands out as the place to hear rocking good blues. The Black Dog Tavern at 903 Throckmorton St. in downtown Fort Worth offers Holland K. Smith and his band, who start the show at 9 p.m., and then invite accomplished musical guests on stage.

Smith, who grew up in Arlington, has the cool retro-rebel look, with a pompadour, sideburns, and soul patch. He's a devotee of traditional electric blues -- think Jimmy Vaughan rather than his wilder brother Stevie Ray. Smith also laces his guitar leads with Mexican and classical riffs. Cool stuff. The Black Dog's high ceilings and wooden floors and walls give the acoustics a nice, cavernous sound, and the music never gets so loud that conversation is impossible. Texas beer enthusiasts will love the large, frosted mugs of Lone Star for $2. There's no cover charge, and motorists sneak free parking after about 9 p.m. at an unoccupied lot just south of the bar at Ninth and Throckmorton streets.

The other Wednesday blues jam is at Keys Lounge, 5677 Westcreek Dr., in south Fort Worth. The house band, led by Bobby Counts, is fine, but the music is too loud for the small club. A recent visit found the club filled with middle-aged guys. A soused fellow at a table next to HearSay asked one of the few women to kiss him on the cheek. She refused. He lifted his beer bottle, poured beer in his mouth until it ran down his face and onto his shirt, then tapped his beer-soaked cheek with his finger, as if to say, "Now I bet you want to kiss me, because you can get a little taste of beer for your trouble."

By midnight, HearSay was sick of being surrounded by drunken guys in wife-beaters, and headed to The Black Dog. Smith was out of town that night, but James Hinkle substituted and kept the joint jumping, especially during his rocked-up versions of Johnny Cash songs, which he dubbed "Thrash Cash." Thank God for Hump Day.