The Good Fight has been quite fierce as of late, boys and girls. Although I've obtained a measure of stability, my footing is still anything but sure, and I'm pulling all the stops to gain the truly firm ground I need to charge forwards. It's affecting everything in my life, music at the top of the list. While there is some real daylight at the end of my current tunnel, when I'll ever get out into it at last remains to be seen. Please bear with me "until," if you would?
More shortly; hope y'all are going to help me do the right thing, come Election Day...............
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
LILY
Farewell Cherished Rose, you will never flee my heart.
You touched my deepest soul, before we tore apart
You sang out to my weakness, and your giggles seared my brain.
I put you on my pedestal, and our Sparks spelled out your name.
It's clear to see we found our love like a whisper on the wind.
Always stronger after sunset, when the pain came in.
Our footsteps would one day fall there upon Newtown's greenest hills;
The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.
Loneliness I`ve had, these empty days without your smile.
This torch I`ll carry for my Rose, so loving and oh so wild.
And no I can't deny, the truth that brings me full to tears;
My words can't express the pain of loss, of my Lady Most Eternally Dear.
It's clear to see we heard our love like a whisper on the wind
Always louder after sunset, when my pain set in.
"Our footsteps will one day fall here upon Newtown's greenest hills;"
The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.
Farewell Cherished Rose, you will never flee my heart.
You touched my deepest core, before we tore apart.
Farewell Cherished Rose, from the drummer who lost half my soul.
I`ll miss the little wings of your sweet passion, more than you will ever likely know.
It's clear to see we lost our love like a whisper on the wind
Always sweeter after sunset, when my pain set in.
Our footsteps will never fall there, upon Newtown's greenest hills;
The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.
Lyric © 2004 / 2012 Backwards Coffee Music BMI, all rights reserved.
Even though my heart is broken and my soul is in mortal agony - I still Believe.
Even though our beach and castle are gone - I still Believe.
And even though you never heard our song the way I always did - I still Believe.....................
Happy Birthday, Immortally Beloved.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Silly Season: Send In The Clowns
How dumb do they think we are?
I know that the DNC still has one more day to go, but enough is enough already. I don't recall many {make that ANY} reports from last week's RNC about delegates wanting to KILL the opposition's nominee. I don't recall an illegal alien making a keynote speech at the RNC; nor do I recall seeing say, Dan Quayle or Bob Dole acting like they're still movers and shakers within the GOP, the way Slick Willie Pantload and John "Swiftboat" Kerry seemed to dominate "Jackasspalooza" this week. And I sure as hell don't see how Barack Hussein "saved the US auto industry." Didn't his attempts to do so only give us the Chevy VOLT????
I could go on and on with the partisan rhetoric, but there's hardly any need to. Unemployment and the economy have been virtually stagnant since BHO assumed the office. Thanks to BHO's economic policies, our international credit-rating was downgraded for the first time in the entire history of this country; I hardly need to mention what happened to both our trade and national deficits during this same time-frame. BHO may have "got Bin Laden," but he's turned his back on the rest of the Mid-East, as well as the Near and Far East.
This could have been somewhat acceptable, had he also got us away from being dependent on OPEC oil - but Barry has had no less than SEVEN golden opportunities in the last 4 years to do so, and he's passed on each and every one. Hell's bells, General Electric is getting ready to create in excess of 800,000 decent-paying jobs over the next five years - and every last one of them will be in support of their overseas holdings. Then on top of all that, add in the $1 billion tax-dodge they pulled off this year {with the Fed's blessing} - how could any sane person look at all this and say that we're "heading in the right direction?"
Item - the mean poverty level has risen about 2% annually every year since BHO took office; for almost 20 years before that, it had declined by the same amount annually. Even if the many minimum-wage proposals on both State and Federal ballots get passed this year, it'll only mean that MORE people will be at or near poverty-level, because the basic cost of living has also begun to skyrocket out of control. When was the last time you paid $2.25 for a gallon of gas, or $3.00 for a pound of ground sirloin, or $.95 for a pound of butter? Or even under five bucks for a fast-food "value meal?"
Those of you who answer "Four or more years ago" can take a bow, and relax. For the rest, well, let's just say I'm not terribly sanguine about the future of this country if BHO manages to keep his job. His "saving the US auto industry?" Bullshit. Aside from Ford, there IS no "US auto industry." GM has precious few assembly plants left in the lower 48 - and virtually all of its' onetime manufacturing ability has been outsourced to Canada, Mexico, and overseas. ChryCo? Last I heard, Fiat was the majority shareholder - the Pentastar brand hasn't been a US-based operation since Daimler bought 'em out back in '98!!
Ironic that of the onetime "Big Three," Ford remains as the only legitimate US auto-maker, with it's own plants, facilities, and financial stability. And is it any wonder that they didn't accept one damn dime of BHO's oh-so-precious "stimulus" package? They didn't need to - they bloody well know how to look after themselves THEMSELVES!!!! A little concept called "self sufficiency," which BHO and the rest of the DNC simply don't have a clue about. Item - both GM and ChryCo have re-structured their boards two or three times since accepting Barry's cheese; FoMoCo hasn't had a hint of flux at the top since they shit-canned Lee Iacocca......
Anyhow, despite my earlier vow to avoid all this mess this year, I just had to take a peek for myself to see if it's really as bad as I thought. It's worse!!! The DNC is championed by the only President to be IMPEACHED in the 20th Century; a lack-lustre Senator who failed his own Presidential bid in spectacularly embarrassing fashion back in 2004; a conspicuously absent Secretary of State {who can't wait to get rid of the damn job in a few months}; and enough other freaks, misfits, and ne'er-do-wells in the rank and file to fill a small stadium, drink the Kool-Aid, and try to make the GOP look worse than them. It's like putting Raquel Welch and Rosie O'donnel together in the same beauty pageant - only Helen Keller or perhaps Stevie Wonder could miss the painfully obvious............
I'm not sorry I avoided the bulk of the Circus this year, boys and girls; I just hope enough of the rest of my Fellow Babies out there are as disturbed by the dog-and-pony show as I am. Maybe this will be the year we finally climb over 60% voter-turnout for the first time since JFK's election - I dare say we need to. Barry's had his chance. Now it's time for him and all his Leftie-crew to go away, so the big boys can come in and start getting our house back in proper order again.
More shortly.
I know that the DNC still has one more day to go, but enough is enough already. I don't recall many {make that ANY} reports from last week's RNC about delegates wanting to KILL the opposition's nominee. I don't recall an illegal alien making a keynote speech at the RNC; nor do I recall seeing say, Dan Quayle or Bob Dole acting like they're still movers and shakers within the GOP, the way Slick Willie Pantload and John "Swiftboat" Kerry seemed to dominate "Jackasspalooza" this week. And I sure as hell don't see how Barack Hussein "saved the US auto industry." Didn't his attempts to do so only give us the Chevy VOLT????
I could go on and on with the partisan rhetoric, but there's hardly any need to. Unemployment and the economy have been virtually stagnant since BHO assumed the office. Thanks to BHO's economic policies, our international credit-rating was downgraded for the first time in the entire history of this country; I hardly need to mention what happened to both our trade and national deficits during this same time-frame. BHO may have "got Bin Laden," but he's turned his back on the rest of the Mid-East, as well as the Near and Far East.
This could have been somewhat acceptable, had he also got us away from being dependent on OPEC oil - but Barry has had no less than SEVEN golden opportunities in the last 4 years to do so, and he's passed on each and every one. Hell's bells, General Electric is getting ready to create in excess of 800,000 decent-paying jobs over the next five years - and every last one of them will be in support of their overseas holdings. Then on top of all that, add in the $1 billion tax-dodge they pulled off this year {with the Fed's blessing} - how could any sane person look at all this and say that we're "heading in the right direction?"
Item - the mean poverty level has risen about 2% annually every year since BHO took office; for almost 20 years before that, it had declined by the same amount annually. Even if the many minimum-wage proposals on both State and Federal ballots get passed this year, it'll only mean that MORE people will be at or near poverty-level, because the basic cost of living has also begun to skyrocket out of control. When was the last time you paid $2.25 for a gallon of gas, or $3.00 for a pound of ground sirloin, or $.95 for a pound of butter? Or even under five bucks for a fast-food "value meal?"
Those of you who answer "Four or more years ago" can take a bow, and relax. For the rest, well, let's just say I'm not terribly sanguine about the future of this country if BHO manages to keep his job. His "saving the US auto industry?" Bullshit. Aside from Ford, there IS no "US auto industry." GM has precious few assembly plants left in the lower 48 - and virtually all of its' onetime manufacturing ability has been outsourced to Canada, Mexico, and overseas. ChryCo? Last I heard, Fiat was the majority shareholder - the Pentastar brand hasn't been a US-based operation since Daimler bought 'em out back in '98!!
Ironic that of the onetime "Big Three," Ford remains as the only legitimate US auto-maker, with it's own plants, facilities, and financial stability. And is it any wonder that they didn't accept one damn dime of BHO's oh-so-precious "stimulus" package? They didn't need to - they bloody well know how to look after themselves THEMSELVES!!!! A little concept called "self sufficiency," which BHO and the rest of the DNC simply don't have a clue about. Item - both GM and ChryCo have re-structured their boards two or three times since accepting Barry's cheese; FoMoCo hasn't had a hint of flux at the top since they shit-canned Lee Iacocca......
Anyhow, despite my earlier vow to avoid all this mess this year, I just had to take a peek for myself to see if it's really as bad as I thought. It's worse!!! The DNC is championed by the only President to be IMPEACHED in the 20th Century; a lack-lustre Senator who failed his own Presidential bid in spectacularly embarrassing fashion back in 2004; a conspicuously absent Secretary of State {who can't wait to get rid of the damn job in a few months}; and enough other freaks, misfits, and ne'er-do-wells in the rank and file to fill a small stadium, drink the Kool-Aid, and try to make the GOP look worse than them. It's like putting Raquel Welch and Rosie O'donnel together in the same beauty pageant - only Helen Keller or perhaps Stevie Wonder could miss the painfully obvious............
I'm not sorry I avoided the bulk of the Circus this year, boys and girls; I just hope enough of the rest of my Fellow Babies out there are as disturbed by the dog-and-pony show as I am. Maybe this will be the year we finally climb over 60% voter-turnout for the first time since JFK's election - I dare say we need to. Barry's had his chance. Now it's time for him and all his Leftie-crew to go away, so the big boys can come in and start getting our house back in proper order again.
More shortly.
Monday, August 27, 2012
SNJ - Growing Pains
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.
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 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!}
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