Mixed bag last night, boys and girls.
My third outing at Bobby's didn't quite turn out as I'd hoped. For whatever reason, I only managed three tunes, spaced out over the course of perhaps a couple hours. That was bad enough in itself, but the balance of the evening was spent trying to avoid cold shoulders from not one, but two old flames of mine. And to top it all off, my drum-proteg`e Lady Sheila was once again absent from both my side, and the overall festivities.
I suppose I could have copped out and insisted on playing nothing but the blues, but I didn't want to blow everyone else's night out. Besides that, I was still looking to connect with some of the Regulars I haven't gone up with yet - I'm still the unknown commodity / new kid on the block, remember. As it turned out, I did break a bit of new ground on my last tune, but it was only a bit, nothing more. A rather tasty bit to be sure, though.
As happened last week, my buddy Chris O. tapped me for some fun-n-games to kick things off. Chris was the "featured artist" this week, so he basically had carte-blanche to put together his setlist. By mutual agreement, he had me up for the first two tunes, and Drum-Bud Brian played the last two. I had earlier asked Brian if I could add my ride cymbal to his kit, in my usual left-handed position; he kindly agreed, and that simple gesture was a crucial factor in making me feel the most comfortable I've ever felt in the last three weeks, playing-wise. This time around, I'd be more than ready to do my thing when the time came.
In due course my first call came, and up I went. The adrenaline did much to combat the icy chill coming from the old flames on opposite sides of the room {crossfire hurricane of a different sort, dig?}, and the slight half-sneer on me mug as I sauntered up took care of the rest. The potential for "high drama" never was a match for me when I'm determined about the task at hand, and last night was no exception. Chris launched Stu and myself straight into a Van Halen tune, and I did something totally unexpected - I simply sank into the overall spirit of the jam, and played what I felt. No heavy emotional involvement like I'm usually guilty of, or "OK, this is the version of this tune, let's kick some serious ass." I just relaxed and happily went with the flow, adding chunks of the usual chaos and mayhem wherever and whenever I felt like it.
Thanks to Brian's kindness my true Southpaw attack was unleashed, and boy did I try to make the most of it. Stu was locked tight with me as usual, so I concentrated on trying to "dramatize" what Chris was doing up top. True to form, once Chris heard me making with the silliness he started ramping-up himself, and the tune turned into a pretty amusing romp, considering all the ridiculous chances we were taking. At the tag-out Chris segued us straight into "Turn the Page," and I kept right on grooving in a very loose-and free manner. My chops were sharp, crisp, and tight; they complemented Stu and Chris's work rather effectively - and yes, even my usual million-and-one mistakes integrated well into the flow. We flourished out the song in fine fashion, and my opening salvo was done.
I barely registered but nonetheless thanked the compliments from the onlookers I passed on the way back to my table; I was preoccupied, anticipating that cold-shoulder crossfire to suddenly go liquid-hydrogen on me, 'cos I didn't fook-up onstage the way they wanted me to. Feeling well vindicated, I settled into my table to await the next call. Unfortunately, said call came near the end of the evening, ensuring that my overall blow would be the near-ultimate in pithiness; zero chance for me to dig deep into my pro-fusion blazz trick-bag, or boil up some heavy adrenaline, in other words. Small comfort for me to work for the first time behind Philmo M, and my man Dave B; the long pause between blows had cooled the adrenaline, and the icy crossfire was still there, albeit somewhat muted.
Philmo asked me for an up-tempo blues shuffle; I quickly dug the groove, and our Aggregation took off. We climbed, rode, and fell our way through the tune, propelled on the strength of my even looser playing. It worked well enough, but by now the offstage rot had finally set in to a degree, affecting my concentration. It was enough to make me totally muff the opening to "Candy Rock," and Brian had to be called up to bail things out. Needless to say, I was beside myself with seething rage over how the play had fallen out for me, affected by outside influences. After patiently waiting for the night to end, I reclaimed my cymbal as quickly as I could and split - but not before giving short shrift to my good Facebook-Bud Woody Z, whom I didn't even see at the play until that moment!! Hopefully after he reads this, he'll understand why I was so rude to him and forgive me.
I dunno, gang. I'm well used to the fact that there are going to be just as many off-nights as "ons;" the bulk of my personal upset stems from the dual factors of offstage tension, and onstage wariness from those new to my acquaintance. So I blew one song-intro; it's not like I played "Chopsticks" whilst everyone else was making with the Chopin or Strauss. It's a bloody jam-session, right? At least give me the chance to correct the mistake before ya give me the hook - I could easily turn the tables by asking for "Killin' Floor" the exact way Jimi did it in Monterey, then call for others to come in after the first mistake. I'm respectful and totally supportive of the SNJ; I don't see any reason why the notion can't be a mutual proposition, if you follow my logic.
All the above notwithstanding, there will be plenty more SNJ plays I'll attend in the future - one {poor} night does not a tenure make, y'know? Plus, I'll be damned to the nth degree before I'll let ANY offstage antagonist keep me from fully enjoying the fruits of my musical Gifts. I'm gonna bounce back like a bag of Superballs tossed into the dodge 'em cars at an amusement park {still paying attention, Mister Brahler?} - b-b-b-b-baby you ain't seen n-n-n-n-nothing yet........
More shortly.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
SNJ - Crossfire Hurricane
AHHHH!!!!!!
What a fun night! Y'all missed a pretty good time at Bobby's last night. My one-week layoff did me the world of good, as I was in fine fettle for the play. The only disappointment was the fact that my drum-proteg`e Lady Sheila elected to take an additional night off from the jam, leaving me to do the do solo. However, she did send me off with a "Tear something up GOOD for me tonight;" as things turned out I was able to do just that.
I got a warm welcome back from Ron C. and the Core lads - Dave, Stu, Brian, and good ol' Hank - as soon as I ambled in. I returned the greetings and lost no time in ordering up some chow. Dave wandered over and embarrassed the hell out of me when he told me he really enjoyed my writing; I had no idea he'd even read these silly ramblings here! Soon enough, it was suddenly Old Home week when a cat I hadn't seen for 25 years - one Mark Winkler - strolled in toting his bass. We did the "LONG time no see" bit and briefly caught each other up on this and that. See, Mark is one of perhaps two other high school classmates of mine that has kept his music going ever since, and he was impressed that I've been fighting the Good Fight just like he has all these years.
By now I was already in an excellent frame of mind for the play, and this is precisely when one Chris Odell appeared on the scene. We met at my initial SNJ a couple weeks back, hit it off instantly, and in the interim we cooked up some ideas to try out together, should we get the chance. Once the opener and the first Aggregation were done {and after the Cardinals finally lost to Pittsburgh, after nineteen innings!}, Chris and I got our chance. By mutual agreement, we kicked things off with - what else - "Hey Joe." Since Stu was with us on bass, I relaxed all the way and prepared to unleash a bit of "Classic Animal." Chris obviously felt the same way, 'cos he EXPLODED immediately after I made my entrance. It was all I could do to restrain myself from joining him in some early frenzy, but I had a firm plan in mind.
In essence, I applied my Clapton-inspired "build-up, climax, tag-out" formula to the tune, as the way to best complement Chris's fire and brimstone. He seemed a little puzzled that I wasn't wailing like he was at first, but he soon got the gist of what I was doing as we cooked merrily along. I carefully raised the temperature as we approached the first bridge; once we hit it, that's when I began to explode. As soon as Chris heard me start to go off, he really began to shred and I mean turning confetti into dust motes-type shredding. I egged him on as best I could, and stone me if he didn't hit me with a Smile just before dragging me headlong into a wicked counterpoint throwing-match.
Regular readers of my old MySpace blog in 2008 will recall the frequent times Buffalo Bob and I threw as much as we could at each other, just for the sheer fun of it. Wellsir, last night's "duel" with Chris easily eclipsed any throwing-match I've done in the last ten years, if not fifteen or twenty. Totally spur-of-the-moment improv, and highly contagious as it turned out. We toned things down somewhat for the last couple verses, but went straight back at it again for the second bridge. This time around I took to some increasingly outrageous cliff-dives, which set Chris off even more, if such a thing was possible. Right in the middle of a particularly insane cliff-dive, Stu caught my eye with a look that said "No way are you gonna be able to come back from that, Dude!" When I did though, there was nothing but admiration on his face; he even threw some shit at me a short time later, which I took as a sincere compliment.
Once Chris scratched his itch thoroughly, we finally wound Hey Joe down to a very nice reception. Before the clap could die out, we were off into Neil Young's "Cortez." I started off utilizing the same basic approach as HJ, with some heavy dynamics thrown in for good measure. I'd done this particular drum arrangement at my third or fourth Woodshed blow earlier this summer, but a few bars in Stu asked me to "crunch it up" a bit, which I obligingly did. The dynamics got switched out in favor of heavy stomp for the main body, but I did employ them as overlays on my accents and embellishments. Chris meanwhile was once again having a high old time displaying his abundant shredder-skills. Between the three of us, we concocted a pretty dramatic re-imagineering of the piece, and our combined efforts worked well enough to earn us our second warm reception, which is all that really matters in the end.
This concluded my first set of the evening; I happily ran the compliment-gauntlet on the way back to my table. After a few more Aggregations went up, I was startled to be called up to help close the set of the third one. This Aggregation was basically a whole band, save for the drums; Brian opened with them, and I closed. "Steve on Wheels" as they were called made me feel welcome straight away, and I quickly settled down so we could kick off The Doors' "Hands on the Wheel." Since it was basically a vocal vehicle for Steve himself, I saved the bombast for the instrumental breaks {going totally over the top with several of them}, and made a fine overall showing despite having not played the song in ages {my rust has cobwebs on it}.
The dudes were all Smiles and praise at the end, and the effort was decently clapped. Myself, I was just happy to be a small part of it all. Last night was Steve's birthday, and he's also making a slow musical comeback just like I am. His is the heavier slog though; some of the obstacles in his path are voice-related, meaning that his instrument can't be fixed or replaced as easily as a guitar or drum kit. I sympathize deeply with that scenario, and told Steve as much during our post-blow chat. Hopefully he'll rally quickly; I'd dearly love to have a proper full outing with him in the near future.
Although a bit pithy, last night's play for me was a pleasant bread-and-butter excursion, with more than a few extended passages of my usual mayhem. A fine sophomore effort, in other words. As the night wound down, Chris and I deepened our nascent bond some more as we talked about scratch-band possibilities. We both agree that our wonderful chemistry together needs to be thoroughly explored as soon as we can, so the next several weeks and months ought to be mighty interesting. On a final note I concluded my evening with yet another small burst of old-school Animal, when I sauntered up to the one and only Philmo Montgomery and said "Hey! You're Johnny Winter! I'm a huge fan of yours!"
Despite us being total strangers, Philmo didn't miss a beat before answering me with "Hey, I love Johnny Winter!!" and a bark of laughter. Ice thus broken, I introduced myself and we had a short but decent chat. Philmo's something of an SNJ legend, and his blow last night certainly convinced me. I quickly put forth a suggestion of us going up together at a future play, he agreed heartily, and that was that. The developments will be reported here as they happen, but between you and me I'd say it would be a safe bet that Bobby's Place hasn't seen the last shred-fest I'm drumming behind by a long shot.
Yeah, pretty good play. More is on the way, too. Although the daily grind is still relentlessly grinding along, I'm almost to the point of actually relaxing for more than a day or two at a time. The plays have been a huge help of course, and are getting better each time out. For now, All Is Well.
More shortly.............
What a fun night! Y'all missed a pretty good time at Bobby's last night. My one-week layoff did me the world of good, as I was in fine fettle for the play. The only disappointment was the fact that my drum-proteg`e Lady Sheila elected to take an additional night off from the jam, leaving me to do the do solo. However, she did send me off with a "Tear something up GOOD for me tonight;" as things turned out I was able to do just that.
I got a warm welcome back from Ron C. and the Core lads - Dave, Stu, Brian, and good ol' Hank - as soon as I ambled in. I returned the greetings and lost no time in ordering up some chow. Dave wandered over and embarrassed the hell out of me when he told me he really enjoyed my writing; I had no idea he'd even read these silly ramblings here! Soon enough, it was suddenly Old Home week when a cat I hadn't seen for 25 years - one Mark Winkler - strolled in toting his bass. We did the "LONG time no see" bit and briefly caught each other up on this and that. See, Mark is one of perhaps two other high school classmates of mine that has kept his music going ever since, and he was impressed that I've been fighting the Good Fight just like he has all these years.
By now I was already in an excellent frame of mind for the play, and this is precisely when one Chris Odell appeared on the scene. We met at my initial SNJ a couple weeks back, hit it off instantly, and in the interim we cooked up some ideas to try out together, should we get the chance. Once the opener and the first Aggregation were done {and after the Cardinals finally lost to Pittsburgh, after nineteen innings!}, Chris and I got our chance. By mutual agreement, we kicked things off with - what else - "Hey Joe." Since Stu was with us on bass, I relaxed all the way and prepared to unleash a bit of "Classic Animal." Chris obviously felt the same way, 'cos he EXPLODED immediately after I made my entrance. It was all I could do to restrain myself from joining him in some early frenzy, but I had a firm plan in mind.
In essence, I applied my Clapton-inspired "build-up, climax, tag-out" formula to the tune, as the way to best complement Chris's fire and brimstone. He seemed a little puzzled that I wasn't wailing like he was at first, but he soon got the gist of what I was doing as we cooked merrily along. I carefully raised the temperature as we approached the first bridge; once we hit it, that's when I began to explode. As soon as Chris heard me start to go off, he really began to shred and I mean turning confetti into dust motes-type shredding. I egged him on as best I could, and stone me if he didn't hit me with a Smile just before dragging me headlong into a wicked counterpoint throwing-match.
Regular readers of my old MySpace blog in 2008 will recall the frequent times Buffalo Bob and I threw as much as we could at each other, just for the sheer fun of it. Wellsir, last night's "duel" with Chris easily eclipsed any throwing-match I've done in the last ten years, if not fifteen or twenty. Totally spur-of-the-moment improv, and highly contagious as it turned out. We toned things down somewhat for the last couple verses, but went straight back at it again for the second bridge. This time around I took to some increasingly outrageous cliff-dives, which set Chris off even more, if such a thing was possible. Right in the middle of a particularly insane cliff-dive, Stu caught my eye with a look that said "No way are you gonna be able to come back from that, Dude!" When I did though, there was nothing but admiration on his face; he even threw some shit at me a short time later, which I took as a sincere compliment.
Once Chris scratched his itch thoroughly, we finally wound Hey Joe down to a very nice reception. Before the clap could die out, we were off into Neil Young's "Cortez." I started off utilizing the same basic approach as HJ, with some heavy dynamics thrown in for good measure. I'd done this particular drum arrangement at my third or fourth Woodshed blow earlier this summer, but a few bars in Stu asked me to "crunch it up" a bit, which I obligingly did. The dynamics got switched out in favor of heavy stomp for the main body, but I did employ them as overlays on my accents and embellishments. Chris meanwhile was once again having a high old time displaying his abundant shredder-skills. Between the three of us, we concocted a pretty dramatic re-imagineering of the piece, and our combined efforts worked well enough to earn us our second warm reception, which is all that really matters in the end.
This concluded my first set of the evening; I happily ran the compliment-gauntlet on the way back to my table. After a few more Aggregations went up, I was startled to be called up to help close the set of the third one. This Aggregation was basically a whole band, save for the drums; Brian opened with them, and I closed. "Steve on Wheels" as they were called made me feel welcome straight away, and I quickly settled down so we could kick off The Doors' "Hands on the Wheel." Since it was basically a vocal vehicle for Steve himself, I saved the bombast for the instrumental breaks {going totally over the top with several of them}, and made a fine overall showing despite having not played the song in ages {my rust has cobwebs on it}.
The dudes were all Smiles and praise at the end, and the effort was decently clapped. Myself, I was just happy to be a small part of it all. Last night was Steve's birthday, and he's also making a slow musical comeback just like I am. His is the heavier slog though; some of the obstacles in his path are voice-related, meaning that his instrument can't be fixed or replaced as easily as a guitar or drum kit. I sympathize deeply with that scenario, and told Steve as much during our post-blow chat. Hopefully he'll rally quickly; I'd dearly love to have a proper full outing with him in the near future.
Although a bit pithy, last night's play for me was a pleasant bread-and-butter excursion, with more than a few extended passages of my usual mayhem. A fine sophomore effort, in other words. As the night wound down, Chris and I deepened our nascent bond some more as we talked about scratch-band possibilities. We both agree that our wonderful chemistry together needs to be thoroughly explored as soon as we can, so the next several weeks and months ought to be mighty interesting. On a final note I concluded my evening with yet another small burst of old-school Animal, when I sauntered up to the one and only Philmo Montgomery and said "Hey! You're Johnny Winter! I'm a huge fan of yours!"
Despite us being total strangers, Philmo didn't miss a beat before answering me with "Hey, I love Johnny Winter!!" and a bark of laughter. Ice thus broken, I introduced myself and we had a short but decent chat. Philmo's something of an SNJ legend, and his blow last night certainly convinced me. I quickly put forth a suggestion of us going up together at a future play, he agreed heartily, and that was that. The developments will be reported here as they happen, but between you and me I'd say it would be a safe bet that Bobby's Place hasn't seen the last shred-fest I'm drumming behind by a long shot.
Yeah, pretty good play. More is on the way, too. Although the daily grind is still relentlessly grinding along, I'm almost to the point of actually relaxing for more than a day or two at a time. The plays have been a huge help of course, and are getting better each time out. For now, All Is Well.
More shortly.............
Monday, August 13, 2012
Interlude
Man alive, I'm about used up!!
It's been almost two months since my return home - but it feels like two years. Merciless heat, the usual nonstop chaos, l-o-n-g hours on the jay-oh-bee {always around cookers and ovens - we literally had to go outside in the 106-degree heat just to cool off}, and even my string of seven consecutive plays; all have taken a toll on me. It's time for a little break.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. A job in today's economy is a Blessing indeed, no matter how physically taxing or "mundane" it may be. I'm grateful as hell to have it and I'll be off my probationary period first of next month, which translates into reasonable stability. As for the music, well, there's no real issue to speak of since I switched bivouacs from Back Street to Bobby's last week. I simply wanted one weekend off from everything to recharge a bit; the jamming progress I made last week will resume next weekend, rest assured.
Then again, this damn summer-long heatwave finally broke for us starting late Thursday night, so I also wanted some time to just bask in the cooler weather without having to swill a half-gallon of Gatorade every 30 minutes or so!! I know we'll probably have much more heat before the solstice, but I'll takes what I can gets now, 10-Q very much. I do believe it's called "carpe-diem," or some such nonsense.
Whatever the case, my forward progress is slowly assuming a steady gait at long last; a small respite ought to reinvigorate everything without stalling the momentum. Like I mentioned last post, I've acquired some great new friends from Bobby's SNJ {Sunday Night Jams}, and we'll be cooking up the chemistry again in several days' time, believe me. There might even be the possibility of me hitting the concert boards again in my own right before the year's out; more I will not say until all the I's are dotted and the T's are crossed {or guzzled, as the case may be - my fondness for Long Islands hasn't abated one whit}.
And that's the very latest, my good Friends. I'll be back at it with a vengeance tomorrow morning, and we'll see what happens. I know the Conventions are coming up in a couple weeks, but my usual zeal for politics right now is as burned-out as much of this year's corn crop is. Guess it needs a small break too, go figure. Ah well, I'm gonna lay back and just ride the groove for this next week; I heartily encourage all and sundry who frequent these silly pages to do likewise. I'll sing out as soon as there's news.
Ta fo' now, and pass that pitcher of LIT's over here, please; I'm dreadfully parched, and disgustingly sober...........
...................dig?
{BTW - I claim full intellectual-property ownership of "dreadfully parched, and disgustingly sober." Author's prerogative, don'tcha know!}
It's been almost two months since my return home - but it feels like two years. Merciless heat, the usual nonstop chaos, l-o-n-g hours on the jay-oh-bee {always around cookers and ovens - we literally had to go outside in the 106-degree heat just to cool off}, and even my string of seven consecutive plays; all have taken a toll on me. It's time for a little break.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. A job in today's economy is a Blessing indeed, no matter how physically taxing or "mundane" it may be. I'm grateful as hell to have it and I'll be off my probationary period first of next month, which translates into reasonable stability. As for the music, well, there's no real issue to speak of since I switched bivouacs from Back Street to Bobby's last week. I simply wanted one weekend off from everything to recharge a bit; the jamming progress I made last week will resume next weekend, rest assured.
Then again, this damn summer-long heatwave finally broke for us starting late Thursday night, so I also wanted some time to just bask in the cooler weather without having to swill a half-gallon of Gatorade every 30 minutes or so!! I know we'll probably have much more heat before the solstice, but I'll takes what I can gets now, 10-Q very much. I do believe it's called "carpe-diem," or some such nonsense.
Whatever the case, my forward progress is slowly assuming a steady gait at long last; a small respite ought to reinvigorate everything without stalling the momentum. Like I mentioned last post, I've acquired some great new friends from Bobby's SNJ {Sunday Night Jams}, and we'll be cooking up the chemistry again in several days' time, believe me. There might even be the possibility of me hitting the concert boards again in my own right before the year's out; more I will not say until all the I's are dotted and the T's are crossed {or guzzled, as the case may be - my fondness for Long Islands hasn't abated one whit}.
And that's the very latest, my good Friends. I'll be back at it with a vengeance tomorrow morning, and we'll see what happens. I know the Conventions are coming up in a couple weeks, but my usual zeal for politics right now is as burned-out as much of this year's corn crop is. Guess it needs a small break too, go figure. Ah well, I'm gonna lay back and just ride the groove for this next week; I heartily encourage all and sundry who frequent these silly pages to do likewise. I'll sing out as soon as there's news.
Ta fo' now, and pass that pitcher of LIT's over here, please; I'm dreadfully parched, and disgustingly sober...........
...................dig?
{BTW - I claim full intellectual-property ownership of "dreadfully parched, and disgustingly sober." Author's prerogative, don'tcha know!}
Monday, August 6, 2012
Return of The Jam Rat
Sometimes, change really does do a body good.
Last week's less-than-stellar Woodshed play ultimately led to an acrimonious parting of the ways between Yours Truly and Buffalo Bob. Whilst I respect and admire our previous association, BB now becomes a part of my musical past as I continue to go forwards. However, I wasn't about to let a personal dispute upset the overall momentum in the music I've cobbled up in the last month and a half. After a quick query to my old Jam Rat colleague Doc Sweetwood, I made ready to join the ranks at Bobby's Place in Valley Park - without missing a beat.
With Sheila at my side, I was really up for the evening despite it being a brand-new situation. My chops are nice and crisp thanks to all the activity since late June; the only worry I had going in was how quick could I find my niche without stepping on anyone else's musical toes. Our evening started in my favorite way, with a good meal. Bobby's is a sportsbar and grill, so I happily re-created the Delmar and Motley's days with a black-and-blue burger, and a HUGE side of loaded fries. Almost got too full to play; "generous portions" is a bit of an understatement where Bobby's menu is concerned!!
After we chowed down it was time for me to start working the room. First stop was with Ron Coffman, who runs the jam. I introduced myself, and stone me if he didn't recognize me from the "Black Sheep Posse / Missouri Chapter" page on Facebook. He asked me what kind of music I was into or wanted to do, and I gave him my standard "pro-fusion blazz" resum`e. Ron laughed and said "That's great - it'll make it a lot easier to slot you in." He ran a few things down to me about how the play worked, and that was that. I was already feeling comfortable as we ended our chat.
Next up was another Facebook buddy I'd yet to meet in person, my man Hank Williams Jr. We've had great fun stirring the pot together on Facebook {Buffalo Bob joining us on many occasions} the last couple years, so it was way cool to finally put a face with our respective names. We made with the jokes and crazy observations immediately, further enhancing my comfort-zone. After a good chat an plenty of laughs, I resumed working the room as Hank made ready for his set later in the evening. I bumped into a couple dudes from The Core who are the hosting band, introduced myself, and got a warm "Welcome aboard!" in response from each.
By now the opening set was completed, and the Aggregations started going up. Ron sought me out after the second one to let me know I was next, so I put on my gameface and answered the call when it came, totally at ease despite it being my debut. My basic unit had Rob Cruzen on guitar, and a chap called Jason {I believe - I'm still as terrible remembering names now as I was back during my original time as a Woodshed Regular} on bass. Rob ran the first tune down to me briefly, and we immediately went at it. I locked as tight as I could with Jason, and kept my ears and eyes on Rob. It was a little difficult for me to hear anything at first, but my ears thankfully started adjusting quickly as we romped along.
After we flourished out the kickoff tune to a nice hand from the crowd, Rob told me we'd be doing one of his originals next, and asked me for an up-tempo blues shuffle-groove. I was only too happy to oblige, and we cooked for a half-dozen minutes or so. I was well-pleased that my mess was exactly what Rob and Jason wanted, and I even tossed in a small amount of my usual mayhem, just to test the waters a bit. With the final coda came Smiles from both Rob and Jason - things were jelling very nicely between us by then, and the Smiles were their way to transmit that message silently to me.
Our final number was a nice stomping blues-rocker that I had great fun taking advantage of, albeit in a much more subdued and careful way. As the literal new kid on the block, I wanted to quietly establish myself on this outing, but still put forth a hint of my usual insanity where and when I could. This last tune allowed me to do just that; loads of fills on the turnarounds, carpet-bombing during the bridge, that sort of thing. Even managed a rather nice overall swing-groove that had enough jazz accents to make my man Ginger Baker smile broadly. The crowd gave us our third nice round of the clap, and I was a soggy, panting heap as I accepted {and returned} the praise from Rob and Jason before quitting the stage.
Making my way back to Sheila and our table, two dudes from The Core - guitarist Dave Bohannan, and drummer Brian Strawn - came perilously close to unleashing the Modesty Monster as they added their effusive praise about my mess. I reciprocated the compliments and soon after was able to collapse at the table with Sheila to catch my breath. In due course, Ron again sought me out to both praise my mess some more, and to let me know what and with whom my next bit would be. Two blows in the same evening? I'm down with that!! In the meantime, Sheila and I enjoyed the hell out of Jessie Womack's lovely acoustic guitar set.
Soon enough, my call came. This time around I was placed with my man Hank on guitar, longtime jam-Bud Stu Massey on bass, and Clayton Ptak on second axe. Hank said we'd kick off with a Credence tune, and we got right down to business. I had a blast laying down more than a few strafing runs, visiting Stu and Clayton, and in general just being my usual looney self as we cooked. The only glitch of the entire night came at the very end of the tune, when one of Hank's strings let go all of a sudden {shades of Doc Jim at Back Street a few weeks back}. Stu and Clayton gave him the business about "playing the song to death," and I stopped just short of suggesting that he make a proper job of it by smashing his guitar a-la Pete Townshend! Hank took it all good-naturedly, but the both of us were a bit bummed that his night was over early; the instant chemistry we achieved deserves to be built on, and hopefully will be in the near future.
Clayton, Stu, and I carried on, tearing into an up-tempo blues rocker. I gleefully went totally off the leash at last, but got a startling surprise about 3/4's of the way in - when I was spotlighted for a solo-bit. Before I could hesitate for a second, I put forth some ad-hoc slop that sounded halfway decent even to my hyper-critical ears. I even perfectly meshed the transition between my star-turn and Stu's which came right after mine. After putting loads of quiet ruff-bombing under Clayton's tasty guitar solo-finale, the unit flourished out the song in fine fashion. As with my previous set, clap and praise followed me off the stage and back to Sheila and the table once more. The balance of the evening was pleasant afterglow - the first time was out of the way with nary a hitch {save Hank's axe}; I made several new friends to broaden the network a bit more; Sheila got her next bit of field experience to digest and understand; and my latest musical chapter got off to a fairly roaring start, all things considered.
In short, a wonderful evening, chock-full of potential and ramifications. The next several weeks and months ought to be very interesting indeed. For now though, I'm just happy the transition from old to new jam-situation was so relatively seamless. Hopefully this last fact will be an omen for the future - as always, time will tell. Please stay tuned, Fellow Babies; the Next Generation Jam has begun.
More shortly.
{Editorial correction - "Jason" the bass player's proper name is Tom Hardy!! My bad...........}
Last week's less-than-stellar Woodshed play ultimately led to an acrimonious parting of the ways between Yours Truly and Buffalo Bob. Whilst I respect and admire our previous association, BB now becomes a part of my musical past as I continue to go forwards. However, I wasn't about to let a personal dispute upset the overall momentum in the music I've cobbled up in the last month and a half. After a quick query to my old Jam Rat colleague Doc Sweetwood, I made ready to join the ranks at Bobby's Place in Valley Park - without missing a beat.
With Sheila at my side, I was really up for the evening despite it being a brand-new situation. My chops are nice and crisp thanks to all the activity since late June; the only worry I had going in was how quick could I find my niche without stepping on anyone else's musical toes. Our evening started in my favorite way, with a good meal. Bobby's is a sportsbar and grill, so I happily re-created the Delmar and Motley's days with a black-and-blue burger, and a HUGE side of loaded fries. Almost got too full to play; "generous portions" is a bit of an understatement where Bobby's menu is concerned!!
After we chowed down it was time for me to start working the room. First stop was with Ron Coffman, who runs the jam. I introduced myself, and stone me if he didn't recognize me from the "Black Sheep Posse / Missouri Chapter" page on Facebook. He asked me what kind of music I was into or wanted to do, and I gave him my standard "pro-fusion blazz" resum`e. Ron laughed and said "That's great - it'll make it a lot easier to slot you in." He ran a few things down to me about how the play worked, and that was that. I was already feeling comfortable as we ended our chat.
Next up was another Facebook buddy I'd yet to meet in person, my man Hank Williams Jr. We've had great fun stirring the pot together on Facebook {Buffalo Bob joining us on many occasions} the last couple years, so it was way cool to finally put a face with our respective names. We made with the jokes and crazy observations immediately, further enhancing my comfort-zone. After a good chat an plenty of laughs, I resumed working the room as Hank made ready for his set later in the evening. I bumped into a couple dudes from The Core who are the hosting band, introduced myself, and got a warm "Welcome aboard!" in response from each.
By now the opening set was completed, and the Aggregations started going up. Ron sought me out after the second one to let me know I was next, so I put on my gameface and answered the call when it came, totally at ease despite it being my debut. My basic unit had Rob Cruzen on guitar, and a chap called Jason {I believe - I'm still as terrible remembering names now as I was back during my original time as a Woodshed Regular} on bass. Rob ran the first tune down to me briefly, and we immediately went at it. I locked as tight as I could with Jason, and kept my ears and eyes on Rob. It was a little difficult for me to hear anything at first, but my ears thankfully started adjusting quickly as we romped along.
After we flourished out the kickoff tune to a nice hand from the crowd, Rob told me we'd be doing one of his originals next, and asked me for an up-tempo blues shuffle-groove. I was only too happy to oblige, and we cooked for a half-dozen minutes or so. I was well-pleased that my mess was exactly what Rob and Jason wanted, and I even tossed in a small amount of my usual mayhem, just to test the waters a bit. With the final coda came Smiles from both Rob and Jason - things were jelling very nicely between us by then, and the Smiles were their way to transmit that message silently to me.
Our final number was a nice stomping blues-rocker that I had great fun taking advantage of, albeit in a much more subdued and careful way. As the literal new kid on the block, I wanted to quietly establish myself on this outing, but still put forth a hint of my usual insanity where and when I could. This last tune allowed me to do just that; loads of fills on the turnarounds, carpet-bombing during the bridge, that sort of thing. Even managed a rather nice overall swing-groove that had enough jazz accents to make my man Ginger Baker smile broadly. The crowd gave us our third nice round of the clap, and I was a soggy, panting heap as I accepted {and returned} the praise from Rob and Jason before quitting the stage.
Making my way back to Sheila and our table, two dudes from The Core - guitarist Dave Bohannan, and drummer Brian Strawn - came perilously close to unleashing the Modesty Monster as they added their effusive praise about my mess. I reciprocated the compliments and soon after was able to collapse at the table with Sheila to catch my breath. In due course, Ron again sought me out to both praise my mess some more, and to let me know what and with whom my next bit would be. Two blows in the same evening? I'm down with that!! In the meantime, Sheila and I enjoyed the hell out of Jessie Womack's lovely acoustic guitar set.
Soon enough, my call came. This time around I was placed with my man Hank on guitar, longtime jam-Bud Stu Massey on bass, and Clayton Ptak on second axe. Hank said we'd kick off with a Credence tune, and we got right down to business. I had a blast laying down more than a few strafing runs, visiting Stu and Clayton, and in general just being my usual looney self as we cooked. The only glitch of the entire night came at the very end of the tune, when one of Hank's strings let go all of a sudden {shades of Doc Jim at Back Street a few weeks back}. Stu and Clayton gave him the business about "playing the song to death," and I stopped just short of suggesting that he make a proper job of it by smashing his guitar a-la Pete Townshend! Hank took it all good-naturedly, but the both of us were a bit bummed that his night was over early; the instant chemistry we achieved deserves to be built on, and hopefully will be in the near future.
Clayton, Stu, and I carried on, tearing into an up-tempo blues rocker. I gleefully went totally off the leash at last, but got a startling surprise about 3/4's of the way in - when I was spotlighted for a solo-bit. Before I could hesitate for a second, I put forth some ad-hoc slop that sounded halfway decent even to my hyper-critical ears. I even perfectly meshed the transition between my star-turn and Stu's which came right after mine. After putting loads of quiet ruff-bombing under Clayton's tasty guitar solo-finale, the unit flourished out the song in fine fashion. As with my previous set, clap and praise followed me off the stage and back to Sheila and the table once more. The balance of the evening was pleasant afterglow - the first time was out of the way with nary a hitch {save Hank's axe}; I made several new friends to broaden the network a bit more; Sheila got her next bit of field experience to digest and understand; and my latest musical chapter got off to a fairly roaring start, all things considered.
In short, a wonderful evening, chock-full of potential and ramifications. The next several weeks and months ought to be very interesting indeed. For now though, I'm just happy the transition from old to new jam-situation was so relatively seamless. Hopefully this last fact will be an omen for the future - as always, time will tell. Please stay tuned, Fellow Babies; the Next Generation Jam has begun.
More shortly.
{Editorial correction - "Jason" the bass player's proper name is Tom Hardy!! My bad...........}
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