Thursday, September 29, 2011
Back on the blog
Can you believe it? I'm back on the blog. Like most things in life we get excited about the start of something new but then we lose interest, get too busy, forget... whatever it is that we do to cast aside the project, blog, friend we do not mean to leave things behind. Maybe something else takes precedence or we say "I'll get to that later." I've done that plenty in my life and it makes me feel like less of a person. Maybe I should have practiced more, been nicer to that person, finished that model car... Well I'm back and I'm ready to ramble. Welcome!
Monday, April 4, 2011
So I liked The Beatles... Now what?
Welcome back dear readers. My mind is a little hazy today after last week's gig but I'll try to make some sense of it all.
We left off with my new found passion for The Beatles after Dad had generously purchased 2 albums for me - the double compilation record "Rock n' Roll Music" and "The Beatles - Live At The Hollywood Bowl" on cassette. It was at this time I think I became more aware of music as something that was bigger than me, bigger than my circle of friends, maybe even bigger than all of us. However I was still only in the 3rd grade. I discovered the Beach Boys thanks to my older cousin's visits - they would come and raid my Dad's record collection and play "The Spirit Of America" album over and over again. My father's record collection was varied but did not stray to far from the norm, although the Ventures 1969 album "Underground Fire" was a big hit with me since they covered Arthur Brown's "Fire" - my sister and I would play the beginning of that song and scare the crap out of ourselves.
We left off with my new found passion for The Beatles after Dad had generously purchased 2 albums for me - the double compilation record "Rock n' Roll Music" and "The Beatles - Live At The Hollywood Bowl" on cassette. It was at this time I think I became more aware of music as something that was bigger than me, bigger than my circle of friends, maybe even bigger than all of us. However I was still only in the 3rd grade. I discovered the Beach Boys thanks to my older cousin's visits - they would come and raid my Dad's record collection and play "The Spirit Of America" album over and over again. My father's record collection was varied but did not stray to far from the norm, although the Ventures 1969 album "Underground Fire" was a big hit with me since they covered Arthur Brown's "Fire" - my sister and I would play the beginning of that song and scare the crap out of ourselves.
Here's a version by the crazy Arthur Brown
So being a kid in extreme northern New Hampshire is not without it's trial and tribulations, especially when it comes to music. I was to young too go to the bar to see bands play, there was very little culture that far north, and the "local" radio was abysmal. By local I mean there was not a radio station for miles around. With the exception of SHOM FM out of Montreal which we could sort of get on a clear night and WTOS out of Skowhegan, Maine which, again had spotty reception due to mountains getting in the way, the local radio stations consisted of pop country (WOKQ), easy listening (WEZF - can't spell easy without EZ) and WHOM that played actual elevator music. Really. Re-recorded songs without lyrics and and played very unobtrusively. Somehow I survived, fell into KISS, and started playing air guitar with a tennis racket.
Somewhere along the line I received The Beatles "Red" album (a collection of hits from 1962-66) and my brother got the "Blue" album (1967-1970). Despite my efforts I was a bigger fan of the earlier stuff at that time. It was, to my young ears, more accessible and easier to understand. The Red Album contained a lot of love songs and rockers... even "Nowhere Man" seemed less difficult to understand than some of the Blue album's songs. (I figured it all out when I was older.)
And yes I got into KISS big time. KISS was one of many bands influenced by The Beatles and like most kids the imagery appealed to me more than the music although I think "Destoyer" is probably their best album. My walls were covered in KISS posters and I walked home from a Halloween party in the dark (well over a mile) to watch "KISS Meets The Phantom Of The Park". Awful. Terrible. But when it's 1978 and you're a 9 year old kid it was magical.
Here is the NBC trailer... you have been warned.
As I grew older I was listening to more and more music although to be honest I can't remember what it was - I'm sure it was a combination of pathetic radio, recommendations from friends, and whatever my Dad my bringing home from the store. Including disco. This was the late 1970's after all. Eventually all this listening of various music, however bland it may have been, is all leading up to 5th grade when I discovered that you could be in the school band. And that is where we pick up tomorrow...
Thursday, March 31, 2011
And On the Seventh Day he created The Beatles
We left off with a cassette player with dead batteries, relieved parents, and we are pulling into Paris, France. Although I was going into 3rd grade I remember that European trip fairly well all these years later. We began in Holland where my uncle and his family were living. Uncle Freeman worked for a chemical compay and was constantly being transferred and moved all over the States and to places like Europe. He was my dad's older brother and a bit of a jerk; as years went on he became more of an asshole to my parents and Freeman's 2 other brothers. But that's another blog. Here we are in the summer of 1978 (I think) and in Europe.
My biggest memory of Holland is that each neighborhood had these amazing playgrounds with jungle gyms and these guys were all wooden and each park was different. Also there were french fry stands everywhere and they put mayonnaise on their fries. CRAZY! But delicious. Both families traveled together for about a week where we went to Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia (it was a country back then) and Italy. When it came time to go back to Paris we split up as Freeman's family had already been and wanted to see some other parts of Europe.
(Side note: in Austria I saw a poster for a Beethoven concert with a picture of his bust on the poster - although I was a little American kid I knew he was a big deal but I had to ask if he was still alive. Turns out he wasn't.)
So we arrive in the city of lights - Paris! We stayed in a hotel in the city where I continued my love affair with Orangina, the fizzy, citrusy drink we discovered on our travels. I remember sitting on the street at a cafe eating breakfast and drinking the golden deliciousness. Hey, technically it wasn't soda! We saw the Eiffel Tower, The Arc de Triomphe, and the highlight of my sight seeing - walking under the city street through the catacombs. Creepy but amazing. Maybe that's why I have so many skull tattoos...
By now you are saying "I thought this was about drums?" Here we go gentle reader:
One morning in Paris my brother and I were our room goofing around. For awhile he would ride the elevator up and down and I would run up and down the stairs trying to catch him. Ahh you crazy Americans! On this particular day I think (it's a little hazy here) Mom and Dad were downstairs at the cafe having coffee and they let us kids hang out in the room. I do not recall my sister being there so maybe she was with them. Anyway my brother and I in the room horsing around; the windows are wide open as it is a lovely, warm summer day in Paris. The hotel is U shaped with the bottom part of the U on the street side leaving an enclosed courtyard in between the two sides of the hotel where all the rooms are. Or we are very close to the next hotel and there is a courtyard in between us, that detail is hard to remember. All the windows are open on both sides of the courtyard and I can see the maids cleaning the room across the way. All of a sudden I hear this sound, this music, that literally stops me in my tracks. It's as if I am hearing music for the first time on a conscious level - I do not understand it fully but I understand that it must be important. The beat grabs me; the rhythm makes me move closer to the window so I can hear better. I turn to my older brother and ask "Do you know who that is?" He answers casually, "The Beatles," and is not moved by the sound. How can you be so nonchalant? This is the greatest thing I have ever heard! Yes I know I've been alive for only 8 years but come on man!! Can't you dig that crazy sound?!
I suppose you are wondering what the song in question was. I found out again from my brother that the song was "Birthday". If you know the song you can imagine what grabbed my attention: it was the 8 bar drum break in the middle followed by the clanging guitars and the repeated words, "Yes we're going to a party, party" and that build up and up and up. I have heard the song hundreds of times since then and when it comes across my ipod it still brings a smile to my face and heart. I am even lucky enough to sit in with Beetle down in Houston once in a great while and the song is a joy to play.
So... I hear the song, I am shell shocked, and I find out from my aloof brother that it is indeed The Beatles. As soon as Dad returns from breakfast (or wherever he was) I beg with him and plead that, "When we get back home will you pleeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzeeeee get me a Beatles record. ANY record by the Beatles I don't know any of them so any one record would be great. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" SInce Dad can get almost any record in his store he comes through with flying colors: The Beatles Rock n' Roll Music, released by Capitol Records in 1976, a double album:
My biggest memory of Holland is that each neighborhood had these amazing playgrounds with jungle gyms and these guys were all wooden and each park was different. Also there were french fry stands everywhere and they put mayonnaise on their fries. CRAZY! But delicious. Both families traveled together for about a week where we went to Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia (it was a country back then) and Italy. When it came time to go back to Paris we split up as Freeman's family had already been and wanted to see some other parts of Europe.
(Side note: in Austria I saw a poster for a Beethoven concert with a picture of his bust on the poster - although I was a little American kid I knew he was a big deal but I had to ask if he was still alive. Turns out he wasn't.)
So we arrive in the city of lights - Paris! We stayed in a hotel in the city where I continued my love affair with Orangina, the fizzy, citrusy drink we discovered on our travels. I remember sitting on the street at a cafe eating breakfast and drinking the golden deliciousness. Hey, technically it wasn't soda! We saw the Eiffel Tower, The Arc de Triomphe, and the highlight of my sight seeing - walking under the city street through the catacombs. Creepy but amazing. Maybe that's why I have so many skull tattoos...
By now you are saying "I thought this was about drums?" Here we go gentle reader:
One morning in Paris my brother and I were our room goofing around. For awhile he would ride the elevator up and down and I would run up and down the stairs trying to catch him. Ahh you crazy Americans! On this particular day I think (it's a little hazy here) Mom and Dad were downstairs at the cafe having coffee and they let us kids hang out in the room. I do not recall my sister being there so maybe she was with them. Anyway my brother and I in the room horsing around; the windows are wide open as it is a lovely, warm summer day in Paris. The hotel is U shaped with the bottom part of the U on the street side leaving an enclosed courtyard in between the two sides of the hotel where all the rooms are. Or we are very close to the next hotel and there is a courtyard in between us, that detail is hard to remember. All the windows are open on both sides of the courtyard and I can see the maids cleaning the room across the way. All of a sudden I hear this sound, this music, that literally stops me in my tracks. It's as if I am hearing music for the first time on a conscious level - I do not understand it fully but I understand that it must be important. The beat grabs me; the rhythm makes me move closer to the window so I can hear better. I turn to my older brother and ask "Do you know who that is?" He answers casually, "The Beatles," and is not moved by the sound. How can you be so nonchalant? This is the greatest thing I have ever heard! Yes I know I've been alive for only 8 years but come on man!! Can't you dig that crazy sound?!
I suppose you are wondering what the song in question was. I found out again from my brother that the song was "Birthday". If you know the song you can imagine what grabbed my attention: it was the 8 bar drum break in the middle followed by the clanging guitars and the repeated words, "Yes we're going to a party, party" and that build up and up and up. I have heard the song hundreds of times since then and when it comes across my ipod it still brings a smile to my face and heart. I am even lucky enough to sit in with Beetle down in Houston once in a great while and the song is a joy to play.
So... I hear the song, I am shell shocked, and I find out from my aloof brother that it is indeed The Beatles. As soon as Dad returns from breakfast (or wherever he was) I beg with him and plead that, "When we get back home will you pleeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzeeeee get me a Beatles record. ANY record by the Beatles I don't know any of them so any one record would be great. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" SInce Dad can get almost any record in his store he comes through with flying colors: The Beatles Rock n' Roll Music, released by Capitol Records in 1976, a double album:
I like the "thumbs" holding the sides of the album. The center of each record was a red label with an old style Coca-Cola glass full of Coke and a straw. The track listing is below. Notice the lack of ballads - this is Rock N' Roll!
[edit]Track listing
All tracks written by Lennon/McCartney, except where noted.
- Side one
- "Twist and Shout" (Medley-Russell)
- "I Saw Her Standing There"
- "You Can't Do That"
- "I Wanna Be Your Man"
- "I Call Your Name"
- "Boys" (Dixon-Farrell)
- "Long Tall Sally" (Johnson/Penniman/Blackwell)
- Side two
- "Rock and Roll Music" (Berry)
- "Slow Down" (Williams)
- Medley: "Kansas City/Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey" (Leiber/Stoller)/(Penniman)
- "Money (That's What I Want)" (Bradford/Gordy)
- "Bad Boy" (Williams)
- "Matchbox" (Perkins)
- "Roll Over Beethoven" (Berry)
- Side three
- "Dizzy Miss Lizzy" (Williams)
- "Any Time at All"
- "Drive My Car"
- "Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby" (Perkins)
- "The Night Before"
- "I'm Down"
- "Revolution"
- Side four
- "Back in the U.S.S.R."
- "Helter Skelter"
- "Taxman" (Harrison)
- "Got to Get You into My Life"
- "Hey Bulldog"
- "Birthday"
- "Get Back" (album version)
I played the grooves off this record and analyzed everything about it: I had a hard time telling when George sang, who that singing "Boys?" and I noticed right away that not all the songs were by Lennon/McCartney. I thought to myself, "Who was 'Berry' - he has a few songs here and 'Perkins'? Who are those guys?" I soon realized that this was bigger than Elton John and The Carpenters and Roy Clark. It was even bigger than "Convoy." I had to find out what and why this was so big and so important.
Little did I know that this album would chart a new course for me and change my life forever.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Random beginnings
Hey there. My fellow lefty drummer and all around groovy guy Andrew has given me the go ahead to write about my musical adventures going way back to 1975 so prepare for some self indulgence but hopefully a few interesting anecdotes. Possibly very few. Deep breath... here we go.
I have recently had the pleasure of interviewing fellow drummers about their oral histories - where they came from, how they got started, where they are going, etc... and a lot of them have said that they were influenced by a family member who played drums or their parents played the radio all the time or their mom was a HUGE Elvis fan. In most cases the influence has been close to home. I do not recall being influenced by any member of my family. I had a cousin, Tom, who played in a rock band but that is as much as I knew at the time and that may have been after I was already into music. I have a yellowing and fading Kodak picture of myself on Christmas day, 1975 playing what looks to be part of a kiddie drum set. The shells were some sort of spun metal (tin?) with thick paper heads. When the heads broke I would turn the drums over and play until those broke. When those broke then there was no more drum set. You couldn't replace the heads since there were no tuning rods on the drums. I do not even recall why I got the drums. I don't think I was tapping on pots and pans or anything like that so I must have just asked for a set of drums out of the Sears (or Montgomery Ward - anyone?) catalog. In 1975 I was 6 years old. I think I played the drums along with the radio to the best of my ability although since I grew up in northern New Hampshire I can only imagine what was playing on the radio.
One caveat growing up where I did was that my dad owned his own drug store. Being a pharmacist he bought the business and ran the daily operations. In addition to medicine, candy, and gifts the store had an "old fashioned" soda fountain complete with the stainless steel ice cream freezer, Coca Cola dispenser, hot peanut/nut display with a small scoop and paper bags to hold them, an old school Hamilton Beach shake mixer (we called the shakes frappes pronounced "fraps") and a big mirror behind the counter. In addition that bit of cool Americana old school set up he sold records and cassettes in the store. This was a constant source of music for me although my tastes more or less followed the Billboard Top 40 and what I could get on radio or learn about from older friends. My real music education would not take place until I got to college - such is the life growing up in a remote small town with no cable T.V. and spotty radio reception. The fact that Dad could get almost any record from the distributor will come into play later on in my life.
Dad loved music and mom liked to sing along with the radio and she had a pretty good voice as far as I knew. Dad sometimes could be very particular about his music - at the Colebrook House (a hotel/restaurant/bar owned by a family friend) Dad would show his distaste with certain selections on the juke box by approaching the offensive music box and with a stealthy kick he would skip the needle off the 45 and the next platter would begin. This was after he had a few belts in his system and was feeling feisty. I think when they sold the Colebrook House and had a farewell party my Dad was invited to kick the hell out of the jukebox. I'm sure he did.
Ahhh the jukebox... one of my favorite devices ever. Back when I was a kid you could get 3 play for a quarter. Since we were family friends with the proprietor at the Colebrook House we kids would hang around the bar; my brother getting high score on the table top Pac-Man and I would beg for quarters for the juke box. Stevie Wonder was one singer that stood out in my mind - "I Wish" and "Sir Duke" were the real popular hits on that box. That's probably why when I bought my first Stevie Wonder CD it was the incredible Songs In The Key Of Life. The jukebox was my glowing beacon in a rather boring upbringing. Even the local diner had individual juke boxes in each booth. Every once in while when I go to a Johnny Rockets I'll throw a nickel in and pick some winners. Play B-6, I love that song!
My chronology is out of order... but in second grade I received my first communion from Father Bellfay. That is not the correct spelling of his name but I cannot remember how to spell it. (Mom help me out here.) We wore our little robes and our wooden crosses on a string and had a big ol' party in the church basement. It was sort of weird - all the recipients sat at a long table and our parents swarmed around us taking pictures and whatnot. I do remember we had cake and we all had our picture in the local paper which I thought that was pretty cool. For my communion present from Mom and Dad I received a portable cassette player with some cassettes and they were all The Best of the following artists:
Elton John
The Carpenters
Roy Clark
An interesting combination but this was all music my Dad was probably into at the time. Nonetheless I now had my own music box I could take anywhere and play anytime. Soon thereafter my neighbor turned me onto "Convoy" by C.W. McCall which I thought was the greatest. I ended up with a C.W. McCall tape that contained the offending track and I played that tape over and over again. I did not realize at the time that I was listening to a version of country music; even the Roy Clark tape was music to my ears. His "Ghost Riders In The Sky" was some scary shit even instrumentally.
That same summer we went to Europe to visit my uncle Freeman and his family and I brought the tapes and cassette player with me. I sat in the way back of the car and played "Convoy" all throughout the first part of our trip until the batteries died. When I asked for some new batteries Mom and Dad came back with "Sorry there are no American batteries in Europe." That may or may not have been true but the family was probably glad to be rid of "Convoy" for a few weeks. So I tried to enjoy the rest of the trip without The Rubber Duck and C.W. Luckily something happened in Paris, something wonderful, that charted my course forever.
To be continued....
I have recently had the pleasure of interviewing fellow drummers about their oral histories - where they came from, how they got started, where they are going, etc... and a lot of them have said that they were influenced by a family member who played drums or their parents played the radio all the time or their mom was a HUGE Elvis fan. In most cases the influence has been close to home. I do not recall being influenced by any member of my family. I had a cousin, Tom, who played in a rock band but that is as much as I knew at the time and that may have been after I was already into music. I have a yellowing and fading Kodak picture of myself on Christmas day, 1975 playing what looks to be part of a kiddie drum set. The shells were some sort of spun metal (tin?) with thick paper heads. When the heads broke I would turn the drums over and play until those broke. When those broke then there was no more drum set. You couldn't replace the heads since there were no tuning rods on the drums. I do not even recall why I got the drums. I don't think I was tapping on pots and pans or anything like that so I must have just asked for a set of drums out of the Sears (or Montgomery Ward - anyone?) catalog. In 1975 I was 6 years old. I think I played the drums along with the radio to the best of my ability although since I grew up in northern New Hampshire I can only imagine what was playing on the radio.
One caveat growing up where I did was that my dad owned his own drug store. Being a pharmacist he bought the business and ran the daily operations. In addition to medicine, candy, and gifts the store had an "old fashioned" soda fountain complete with the stainless steel ice cream freezer, Coca Cola dispenser, hot peanut/nut display with a small scoop and paper bags to hold them, an old school Hamilton Beach shake mixer (we called the shakes frappes pronounced "fraps") and a big mirror behind the counter. In addition that bit of cool Americana old school set up he sold records and cassettes in the store. This was a constant source of music for me although my tastes more or less followed the Billboard Top 40 and what I could get on radio or learn about from older friends. My real music education would not take place until I got to college - such is the life growing up in a remote small town with no cable T.V. and spotty radio reception. The fact that Dad could get almost any record from the distributor will come into play later on in my life.
Dad loved music and mom liked to sing along with the radio and she had a pretty good voice as far as I knew. Dad sometimes could be very particular about his music - at the Colebrook House (a hotel/restaurant/bar owned by a family friend) Dad would show his distaste with certain selections on the juke box by approaching the offensive music box and with a stealthy kick he would skip the needle off the 45 and the next platter would begin. This was after he had a few belts in his system and was feeling feisty. I think when they sold the Colebrook House and had a farewell party my Dad was invited to kick the hell out of the jukebox. I'm sure he did.
Ahhh the jukebox... one of my favorite devices ever. Back when I was a kid you could get 3 play for a quarter. Since we were family friends with the proprietor at the Colebrook House we kids would hang around the bar; my brother getting high score on the table top Pac-Man and I would beg for quarters for the juke box. Stevie Wonder was one singer that stood out in my mind - "I Wish" and "Sir Duke" were the real popular hits on that box. That's probably why when I bought my first Stevie Wonder CD it was the incredible Songs In The Key Of Life. The jukebox was my glowing beacon in a rather boring upbringing. Even the local diner had individual juke boxes in each booth. Every once in while when I go to a Johnny Rockets I'll throw a nickel in and pick some winners. Play B-6, I love that song!
My chronology is out of order... but in second grade I received my first communion from Father Bellfay. That is not the correct spelling of his name but I cannot remember how to spell it. (Mom help me out here.) We wore our little robes and our wooden crosses on a string and had a big ol' party in the church basement. It was sort of weird - all the recipients sat at a long table and our parents swarmed around us taking pictures and whatnot. I do remember we had cake and we all had our picture in the local paper which I thought that was pretty cool. For my communion present from Mom and Dad I received a portable cassette player with some cassettes and they were all The Best of the following artists:
Elton John
The Carpenters
Roy Clark
An interesting combination but this was all music my Dad was probably into at the time. Nonetheless I now had my own music box I could take anywhere and play anytime. Soon thereafter my neighbor turned me onto "Convoy" by C.W. McCall which I thought was the greatest. I ended up with a C.W. McCall tape that contained the offending track and I played that tape over and over again. I did not realize at the time that I was listening to a version of country music; even the Roy Clark tape was music to my ears. His "Ghost Riders In The Sky" was some scary shit even instrumentally.
That same summer we went to Europe to visit my uncle Freeman and his family and I brought the tapes and cassette player with me. I sat in the way back of the car and played "Convoy" all throughout the first part of our trip until the batteries died. When I asked for some new batteries Mom and Dad came back with "Sorry there are no American batteries in Europe." That may or may not have been true but the family was probably glad to be rid of "Convoy" for a few weeks. So I tried to enjoy the rest of the trip without The Rubber Duck and C.W. Luckily something happened in Paris, something wonderful, that charted my course forever.
To be continued....
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Autobiography - Informative yarn or self-indulgent tripe?
I've been reading a lot of music autobiographies lately. In the past few months I've read the following:
and just finished yesterday
- Lobotomy by Dee Dee Ramone
- Hound Dog by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller
- Bumping Into Geniuses by Danny Goldman
- We'll Be Here For The Rest Of Our Lives by Paul Shaffer
and just finished yesterday
- Tommy Land by Tommy Lee
My general assessment is this: I need to write my autobiography. Especially after reading Lobotomy and Tommy Land. Dee Dee and Tommy are not great writers and their books were a little disappointing although I cannot exactly figure out why. Paul's book was all over the place and Danny's book didn't make sense until he hooked up with Led Zeppelin. The only book that had any coherent direction was the Leiber/Stoller book. Years ago I read Levon Helm's book This Wheel's On Fire - that was a good read. But it seems most biographies are better reads when an author is telling the story from an outside perspective. In an autobiography the subject talks about his/her self and there is hardly any self-editing. In Tommy's book he had a running dialog with his dick. To me that's sort of dumb.
So I should write my own story. Why the hell not? I've done the same thing these guys have done (sort of) on a much smaller scale, I can be witty and entertaining, and I think I am a better writer. My brain has not been fried with drugs or alcohol and I remember a lot of details from previous years and gigs. It would probably be interesting only to me but that's o.k. Shakespeare said, "Self-love is not so great a sin as self-neglect." Dig it.
So.... where to begin? I was born...
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Shut the fack up when George is singing!!!
I posted the other day about how Vinny Appice was not too old to rock n' roll. Albeit 54 is not that old but to play heavy metal it might be in the upper age bracket. For a singer though, you are only as old as your pipes. That's why Sinatra toured into his late 80's. He could still technically sing even though he uses a teleprompter and sat on a stool. The aforementioned Tony Bennet is still singing and he's getting along in years. February of 2010 we saw Merle Haggard and Kris Kristofferson sing. Merle was top notch; Kris sang the same words to 2 different songs but he figured it out.
Last night we saw George Jones at the Star of Texas Rodeo sing and perform on the revolving stage. We were super excited and he started out with "Why Baby Why". I'm not going to say we were let down. I'm not going to say we were disappointed. George will be 80 in September (a fellow Virgo!) and he has done much more in his musical life than I will ever do. But he is old. He had 2 teleprompters on stage that he referred to constantly. His voice, though on excellent pitch, was the voice of an old man. Every song was slow(er) and he only raised the tempo for the fiddle instrumentals and "White Lightnin'". Most every other song was in the ballad tempo range.
He is George Jones. He is a classic Traditional Country icon. He showed up, did the gig, and during his victory lap in the Dodge Ram pickup truck you could see he was smiling and waving and that he was having fun. I was glad to see him perform as you never know how long some of the older folks will be around. He is George Jones. I forgive him for reading from a teleprompter. He is George Jones. It's ok if he sang quietly and slow. He IS George Jones. He is country music.
So know for the promised smackdown.
When the concert started there were 3 girls sitting directly behind us who started screaming when George took the stage. I mentioned he started with "Why Baby Why" to which these girls SCREAMED the lyrics. So Liz and I moved down 5 rows where there were seats available and away from the screamers. As the concert went on we noticed another sound. The sound of 2 different girls talking LOUDLY over the music. As I also mentioned George was singing very quietly and we were fairly far from the stage. We looked around at them to give them the eye - they were oblivious. The couple in from of us started to look around as well. They would talk very loudly through each song and then when the song was over they would clap and go "Whooooo!" as if they were actually paying attention to the music. At one point the lady in front of us turned and said "Could you keep it down? We're trying to hear the concert." Nothing. Liz turned around and said "Really guys could you quiet down?" Nothing. By now all of our dander was up. I wear 2 rings on my hands - on my left is my tungsten wedding ring which is one of the herder metals; on my right is my "ECH" silver carved ring. I turned around and banged my hand on the metal bench row behind us LOUDLY, using my ring as an attention getter (a little metal on metal). I think I hit the bench 3 or 4 times. There was stunned silence by this particular group. I was so pissed I don't even remember what I said. Probably something like "Would you stop talking? We are trying to hear the show!!!!" To which one of the harpies said "Excuse me?! I have never...." the sound trailed off as the blood was POUNDING in my head. I have not been that mad... in a very long time. Needless to say except for a few childish remarks and their own tapping on the bench (not nearly as loud and Liz said "That behavior will get you thrown out" and she meant it) the rest of the concert was enjoyable. Of course these assholes cheered the loudest for "White Lightnin'" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today". Two great songs but... too obvious. He played some killer songs that I hadn't heard before and I though those were very poignant. If you want to talk during the concert stay at home and play the hits on your fucking iPod.
Now I know this is not classical music or an intense jazz show where you are "forced" to listen - that music tends to command your attention. But any music worth listening to should command you to listen. And this was one of those times where you want to listen, you have to listen. I guess for that matter EVERY concert or show I have been to is one where I wanted to hear the music. I didnt want to go and talk. Maybe it's just me. I am too used to being on the stage that when I am the general population I can't deal with it. We had the same thing happen when we saw Merle - 2 assholes yelling during the concert. They got thrown out. OK enough rambling. Let me know your thoughts. He is George Jones.
Last night we saw George Jones at the Star of Texas Rodeo sing and perform on the revolving stage. We were super excited and he started out with "Why Baby Why". I'm not going to say we were let down. I'm not going to say we were disappointed. George will be 80 in September (a fellow Virgo!) and he has done much more in his musical life than I will ever do. But he is old. He had 2 teleprompters on stage that he referred to constantly. His voice, though on excellent pitch, was the voice of an old man. Every song was slow(er) and he only raised the tempo for the fiddle instrumentals and "White Lightnin'". Most every other song was in the ballad tempo range.
He is George Jones. He is a classic Traditional Country icon. He showed up, did the gig, and during his victory lap in the Dodge Ram pickup truck you could see he was smiling and waving and that he was having fun. I was glad to see him perform as you never know how long some of the older folks will be around. He is George Jones. I forgive him for reading from a teleprompter. He is George Jones. It's ok if he sang quietly and slow. He IS George Jones. He is country music.
So know for the promised smackdown.
When the concert started there were 3 girls sitting directly behind us who started screaming when George took the stage. I mentioned he started with "Why Baby Why" to which these girls SCREAMED the lyrics. So Liz and I moved down 5 rows where there were seats available and away from the screamers. As the concert went on we noticed another sound. The sound of 2 different girls talking LOUDLY over the music. As I also mentioned George was singing very quietly and we were fairly far from the stage. We looked around at them to give them the eye - they were oblivious. The couple in from of us started to look around as well. They would talk very loudly through each song and then when the song was over they would clap and go "Whooooo!" as if they were actually paying attention to the music. At one point the lady in front of us turned and said "Could you keep it down? We're trying to hear the concert." Nothing. Liz turned around and said "Really guys could you quiet down?" Nothing. By now all of our dander was up. I wear 2 rings on my hands - on my left is my tungsten wedding ring which is one of the herder metals; on my right is my "ECH" silver carved ring. I turned around and banged my hand on the metal bench row behind us LOUDLY, using my ring as an attention getter (a little metal on metal). I think I hit the bench 3 or 4 times. There was stunned silence by this particular group. I was so pissed I don't even remember what I said. Probably something like "Would you stop talking? We are trying to hear the show!!!!" To which one of the harpies said "Excuse me?! I have never...." the sound trailed off as the blood was POUNDING in my head. I have not been that mad... in a very long time. Needless to say except for a few childish remarks and their own tapping on the bench (not nearly as loud and Liz said "That behavior will get you thrown out" and she meant it) the rest of the concert was enjoyable. Of course these assholes cheered the loudest for "White Lightnin'" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today". Two great songs but... too obvious. He played some killer songs that I hadn't heard before and I though those were very poignant. If you want to talk during the concert stay at home and play the hits on your fucking iPod.
Now I know this is not classical music or an intense jazz show where you are "forced" to listen - that music tends to command your attention. But any music worth listening to should command you to listen. And this was one of those times where you want to listen, you have to listen. I guess for that matter EVERY concert or show I have been to is one where I wanted to hear the music. I didnt want to go and talk. Maybe it's just me. I am too used to being on the stage that when I am the general population I can't deal with it. We had the same thing happen when we saw Merle - 2 assholes yelling during the concert. They got thrown out. OK enough rambling. Let me know your thoughts. He is George Jones.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Back In The Saddle... again
Welcome back. I had my first gig since the 2011 SXSW Massacree last week with Two Hoots And A Holler last night at the Highball. We followed the venerable Dale Watson, of course, and the room was filled with plenty of regular (from the dancing crowd) but also a lot of gawkers and yuppies. Is that still a word in our vocabulary? I would say there were a lot of "tourists" - people who are out of their element as it was.
You have to give it up for Dale - The man basically built Ginny's Little Longhorn one gig at a time and he is an Austin institution. Here's my question: does trombone belong in country music? I vote no but I never liked trombone. Anyway after hearing Dale play before us for several gigs now I can honestly say I've heard his whole deal and it is what it is. It almost seems like he's retired in Vegas every Thursday night, playing The Highball which has sort of that Vegas "vibe", wearing a smoking jacket and being serenaded by a 3 piece horn section. Maybe that's the way he likes it and that's totally cool. After all the shit that he's done in his life he would probably love to retire in Vegas.
So Dale Watson and His Large Unit* (there's 7 of 'em) eventually got off the stage and we were set to our task ahead. Luckily a large number of dancers stayed around for our set which was good thing. But I give our actual performance a B+ despite all the dancing. The effects of last week's shenanigans was apparent in my own playing and even Matt mentioned putting on a brave face for the show. All in all it was a very good night with people dancing to each and every song.
I was paid one of the highest compliments by Marlon, a dancer who I have known for many years. As he came onstage to thank the band he said to me, "You are a real dancer's drummer." To which I replied a simple "Thanks Marlon," though I was deeply touched. As the drummer I feel it is my duty to get people on the dance floor. The band has a big part in it of course, but most people move to the beat. Providing a foundation that these folks can two-step, twirl, and dip to is my goal. They came out to see US, the least we can do is make them dance. Do I want them to be moved by the lyric of an original tune? Yes. Do I want them to applaud the guitar solo? But of course! It does bring a smile to my face to know that they are on the floor, moving and shaking, because of my contribution to the beat. I feel the same way about the Oldies Band and Mike Stinson's band - yes we are here to entertain, maybe enlighten, but we also want to see you on the dance floor.
Speaking of enlightenment I am going to see George Jones tonight. I figured I better see him before he kicks the bucket or worse. What's worse? Recording a duet with Justin Beeber. You know some old guy is gonna do it - people love that duet/crossover bullshit. An old guy... like Tony Bennet . Jesus... if it's the "Tone-ster" I'm going up on the roof with a rifle. You have been warned. And I'll let you know how George was/is.
*they are actually called Dale Watson and His Lone Stars
You have to give it up for Dale - The man basically built Ginny's Little Longhorn one gig at a time and he is an Austin institution. Here's my question: does trombone belong in country music? I vote no but I never liked trombone. Anyway after hearing Dale play before us for several gigs now I can honestly say I've heard his whole deal and it is what it is. It almost seems like he's retired in Vegas every Thursday night, playing The Highball which has sort of that Vegas "vibe", wearing a smoking jacket and being serenaded by a 3 piece horn section. Maybe that's the way he likes it and that's totally cool. After all the shit that he's done in his life he would probably love to retire in Vegas.
So Dale Watson and His Large Unit* (there's 7 of 'em) eventually got off the stage and we were set to our task ahead. Luckily a large number of dancers stayed around for our set which was good thing. But I give our actual performance a B+ despite all the dancing. The effects of last week's shenanigans was apparent in my own playing and even Matt mentioned putting on a brave face for the show. All in all it was a very good night with people dancing to each and every song.
I was paid one of the highest compliments by Marlon, a dancer who I have known for many years. As he came onstage to thank the band he said to me, "You are a real dancer's drummer." To which I replied a simple "Thanks Marlon," though I was deeply touched. As the drummer I feel it is my duty to get people on the dance floor. The band has a big part in it of course, but most people move to the beat. Providing a foundation that these folks can two-step, twirl, and dip to is my goal. They came out to see US, the least we can do is make them dance. Do I want them to be moved by the lyric of an original tune? Yes. Do I want them to applaud the guitar solo? But of course! It does bring a smile to my face to know that they are on the floor, moving and shaking, because of my contribution to the beat. I feel the same way about the Oldies Band and Mike Stinson's band - yes we are here to entertain, maybe enlighten, but we also want to see you on the dance floor.
Speaking of enlightenment I am going to see George Jones tonight. I figured I better see him before he kicks the bucket or worse. What's worse? Recording a duet with Justin Beeber. You know some old guy is gonna do it - people love that duet/crossover bullshit. An old guy... like Tony Bennet . Jesus... if it's the "Tone-ster" I'm going up on the roof with a rifle. You have been warned. And I'll let you know how George was/is.
*they are actually called Dale Watson and His Lone Stars
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)