Geezer Rock

Non Geezer Bassist

We tried out a new bass player on Monday - Dru. I've known him for two or three years. He's an art director in town. Dru had been playing with Johnny and David Flannagan. David is the head of an advertising agency here in Sacramento. I thought he'd be too busy with the other band to be interested in KDOG. But, desperate, I called. Dru told me he hadn't been playing much. The other band is taking a break, he said, and, yes, he'd love to jam on Monday night.
Dru showed up right on time, always a good sign. We had a ball. Dru is a good singer and knows a bunch of classic rock tunes. He can even sing Free's great classic "All Right Now" in the original key of A. It's tough. The vocal sounds gruff, but Paul Rogers goes way high at a couple of points. Dru does it pretty well. I could keep up okay, trying to remember all the guitar parts on the spot. You've got to play this one right. It's one of the great guitar rock classics of all time.
Other songs we did, off the cuff: "Cocaine," "Come Together," "Browned Eye Girl/I Walked with a Zombie," "Hurdy Gurdy Man," and the James Gang's "Funk 49."
Kenton and I decided to add "I Walked the a Zombie" to our set list after seeing the great Roky Erikson peform the tune at the Roky Erikson Psychedelic Ice Cream Social, which took place during the South by Southwest Music Festival in Austin earlier this month. (Kenton and I were in Austin on advertising business.) Roky was the leader of the late, lamented 13th Floor Elevators. The Elevators were the most insane band to come out of Texas ever until the Butthole Surfers arrived in the 1980s. Roky was a big influence on the Buttholes. I loved Roky's performance of "I Walked With a Zombie," which was enhanced by the fact that, well into his 60s, Roky actually resembles a member of the Undead. His hair is real, but it resembles a wig he found in the street, dyed brown and then laquered into place with an entire can of Hair Net.
I think we need to add a Butthole Surfers cover to our arsenal. I actually consider them to be a great Texas Blues band. The song "Goin' Down to Florida" sounds like John Lee Hooker with dementia.
Roky's story is a testament to the insantiy of marijuna laws. Arrested for possession of seeds in Texas, Roky was given the choice between prison and a mental institution. He chose psychiatric care. His resulting adventures were horrifying enough to make you wonder if Tom Cruise and Scientology might actually have a point with their rabid anti-psychiatry stance. Rocky got the full "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next" experience, complete with shock treatments. It's amazing he survived with any creative impulse left at all. He looks fragile and stiff, but his performance had a lot of vitality. Roky gives terms misunderstood genius a good name.
When I returned home, I immediately started playing "I Walked with a Zombie" over and over in my home studio/office. The best part of this song it that there are no lyric. You just sing "I Walked With a Zombie" over and over again and play insane guitar solos. It's hypnotic. After two minutes, you feel like you are a zombie. I can't wait to try it out in front of a live audiene. I hope they all do "The Zombie Walk" in unison. Then I realized that the song sounded a felt a little like "Brown Eyed Girl" and a realized this would make a great medley. On Monday, I sang "Zombie" and Dru did "Brown Eyed Girl." What a crowd pleaser!
Dru may represent a form of cheating. He's 35, far from Geezer Status. He claims to have an "Old Soul," which basically means he really likes classic rock. He's a big, heavy guy who looks like a biker, complete with wild tatoos and a goatee. While he looks like the kind of person who'd just love to beat the shit out of you, he's actually quite easy going.
The important thing: he looks cool. This could be good. Or it could be a liability. The audience reaction could easily be "What's that cool guy doing with all those Lawrence Welk looking dudes?" On the other hand, it's important to have a young, strong person in the band for lifting things and possibly knowning CPR.
Dru is not an experienced bassist. He doesn't walk in knowing all the usual patterns and techniques. But he's musical - he picks up parts quickly, without much coaching. And, like I said, he's a good singer. In musician parlance, you'd say he "hears fast." Dru seems enthusiastic. He called me yesterday in a frenzy about trying to download all the tunes on KDOG's increasingly enormous song list. This is a good sign.
The band might be back from the dead. Again. I guess all small businesses have the problem of recuiting and retaining qualified people. If we don't drive him insane with our constant bickering, he might stick around.
Still, it's important to have a back-up plan. Tommy and the Rubinoos just released a new compilation CD "Everything You Always Wanted to Know About the Rubinoos." I'm helping write a new bio for their website. In return, I'm dragooning Tommy for fill in duty as KDOG's bassist for five or six gigs. I find it hysterical that here he is, this accomplished musician, and we're making him play in our third-rate bar band. Fortunately, Tommy has a great sense of humor about himself and genuinely enjoys playing "Tush" for a few bucks and a free Scotch or two. I think all musicians should be forced to play bar gigs. The union should make it a requirement so that serious artists won't lose the common touch. Since classical music has become increasingly irrelevant, this might be a way to revitalize the art form. Could Yo Yo Ma handle a biker crowed at the Stoney Inn? Would be play "Sweet Home Alabama" to avoid being beaten up? Would Pavoratti sing "Takin' Care of Business" for a $20 tip? How would he handle the 40-something toothless meth hags who offer to fullfill his wildest sexual fantasies, right there in the parking lot? The bar circuit could teach these coddled egos that there's a lot more to a music career than "being an artist" or "playing songs you like." A bar full of drunks can be a far more demanding and picky audience than a concert hall filled with rich classical music snobs.
©2007 Edward Dean Chance

Not Feelin' Too Good Myself

The Geezer Rock Blog must come back to life. The recent hiatus in posts is the result of depression (mine) over the band's enforced vacation.
The good news: Nick is recovering from his triple bypass. I've had colds that kept me in bed longer. I saw Nick a week after the surgery. He was walking around the block. Briskly. He claims he's starting to feel better than he did before the surgery. I belive it. He was running on three cylinders.
The depature of Player X, however, has left a gaping wound that refuses to heal. Player X worked hard while he was in the band. But he came in with the understanding that we'd be playing two gigs a month. Nick's surgery, plus the city code problems at the Hilltop Tavern, prevented this. So he quit. I wrote him an e-mail asking for more details on his thinking. I really wanted to know. He never replied. Leaving the band is like abandoning your wife and children. If you're going to do it, make a clean break. Don't send birthday cards or phone. It only inflames the wounds. Change your identity. Fake your own death if you have to.
Last Monday, another Geezer Bass Player was scheduled to show up for a little jam with Kenton and I. He canceled at the last minute. "He had a physical therapy appointment he forgot about," Kenton told me. "His neck's all jacked up because he was in a car accident." I'm thinking forcing prospective band members to undergo a physical before joining the band. If they dont' pass, they can't join. I wonder what it would cost to purchase a health benefits plan for KDOG?
At the Sacramento Ad Club Awards last Wednesday, I ran into Steve, the original bass player. I am playing lead guitar today because of Steve. He begged Kenton to get me to swtich so he could join the band as bassist and lead vocalist. I was happy playing bass. I fought this. But I gave in to Kenton's wheedling, as all eventually must. Three months later, Steve quit to join another band. I cursed him and he developed a horrible disease: shingles of the brain. It could have killed him. I guess he wished he was dead at times. The virus subjected him to horrible weeklong migraines.
He looked good when I saw him - a little thinner. He told me his doctors had found a treatment that helped. It inovlved "brain injections" that fooled his brain into thinking he was cured, although he really isn't. Steve told me he had to avoid stress and get plenty of rest, but that he was able to play.
"I never had a problem playing with you," he told me. "But I had an opporunity to join this seven-piece band with a horn section, and I just couldn't pass it up."
I said I understood. The horns. It's always the horns. I hate horns. They play out of tune and leave the stage slick with saliva. They're the fake silocone tits of rock and roll. Guys are always leaving you for horns.
I realize that I have a reputation as a smartass, but what I told Steve next I really meant. This is not irony or even me saying something "nice" through clenched teeth. He has paid his bill. I think receiving injections directly into your brain is punishment enough.
"I owe you a debt of gratitude," I told Steve, with relaxed, non-clenched teeth. "If you hadn't forced the issue, I'd never be playing lead guitar or singing. None of the adventures we had would have occurred. I've actually grown musically because of all this. So...thanks."
We parted with a man hug and that was that.
I have many wonderful Geezer Rock treats in store - including the mind-bending interviews with Nick "Sewer Boy" Ciani and the original Bittermen, whose story makes Spinal Tap look like what it is: a fake Hollywood movie! I also have graphic photos of Nick's sugery "zipper" and shocking accounts of his pubic region being shaved by Fillipino nurses! You may actcually soil yourself repeatedly as this story unfolds, much as Nick's hospital roommate did!
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Kicking The Dog

To bring you up to date on recent events:
•Nick "Sewer Boy" Ciani is doing well after his semi-emergency triple bypass. But he won't be playing any gigs for two months. At least.
•The Hilltop Tavern cancelled our gig on Saturday, March 10, because they don't have the right license for live entertainment. We got this news on Friday.
Now for new events:
On Saturday, I woke up to this e-mail from our bass player, known to Geezer Rock readers as "Player X."
Dean and Kenton:
With all the delays we are having I think it is best for me to leave the band KDOG at this time. When it first joined, we appeared to be close to performing twice a month. Now it could be months before we'd be ready to do 4 & 1/2 hours at a club. I'm not sure you guys wanted to do clubs.
I guess Player X felt he joined on the condition that we'd gig regularly. We can't live up to that, so he's out.
And then, depression set in.
Now, we are down to a White Stripes line up: guitar and drums.
We were going so well too. Now our momentom us totally destroyed. Or is it?
"And if you got hit by a bus tomorrow, KDOG would go on as a solo act, just a four-hour drum solo" our friend Dave Mering told me. "Nothing will stop him!"
Player X represents the fifth KDOG bass player in the past 18 months.
"Is it us?" KDOG asked. "Is it me?"
Bad chemistry is the biggest factor. Nobody really clicks. Other complaints seem to be:
•Kenton is an asshole.
•Nick is as asshole.
•Dean's not good enough. He's also an asshole.
•Hate playing blues all night. Need more Elvis numbers to be "artistically satisfied."
•"I'm too good for this band."
•KDOG not serious/professinal enough
•"I'm an in-demand bassist. I don't need this shit. I could be making literally several dollars a night with another band."
•"I don't have time to wait for people to recover from major surgery."
•"You guys suck. I'm great."
•"Where's my money?"
•Bad luck.
•Bad timing.
•Too many weird songs.
•I hate playing in bars.
•I like playing in bars, but not with you clods
•"I'm in this for the money."
•"I need at least gas money."
•"This is not fun. I'm a serious musician."
•"The Stoney Inn is too scary."
•"You guys are too needy. I'm not helping you move the PA and all that shit around. I'll show up at the gig - and you're lucky I'm doing that much."
•"All three of you form one mega-asshole."
•"I know the songs better than you guys do and I've only been in the band for a month."
•"You can't even play your own original songs right."
•"It's the same thing every rehearsal: Dean yells at Kenton. Kenton yells at Nick. No wonder Nick needs a fucking bypass."
•"It's best for me to leave the band. Who cares what happens to you guys?"
•"When the going gets tough, I get going - right out the door!"
•"There is no "I" in team, but there is "me." There is also "eat," "mat," "tea," "at" and "meat." If "team" had another "e," you'd have a anagram for "eat me."
This points to what a delicate arrangement a band is. The web of personal relationships is as fragile as spun sugar.
I thought Player X was willing to make a go of it, too. Even after Nick went into the hospital, Player X re-did the set list to suit the new power trio format. I thought that was a protactive move that displayed a good attitude. He'd been trying to get us more organized and presentable, less off the cuff, but I guess he figures his talent and energies are better deplyed in a different situation. Player X had kind of been beating over the head with his years of gigging experience. I guess it was wasted on us.
I suggest that before he joins his next band that he request up-to-date medical records on all the members so he's not inconvenienced by the "it's all about me" types who insist on having major surgery when they know there are important gigs coming up.
Kenton and I tried to notify everybody we knew who was planning on coming Saturday night, but a lot of people showed up only to find that the only band consisted of the little people who live inside the jukebox.
When they learned of Player X's departure, most "Dog Heads" simply shrugged and said, "Well, if that's his attitude, I guess it's better you find out now."
I don't undertand this platitude. "Now" is exactly when I didn't want to find out. If the Hilltop solves its problems with the city code in the next two weeks, we don't have a band.
I am through recruiting people of Craig's List, too. Every player on there is mostly concerned with paying gigs. They want that fifty bucks. Kenton and I bought the PA and pay for the rehearsal space, so we're not clearing a dime, but I guess that's our decision and our problem.
All we need is a good player about our age who want to play the music and have fun. Is that so hard?
Yes, it is.
I have to remember that you can't change the other guy, you have to change yourself. This is the key to making any situation work. The questions is, what can we change about ourselves? The answer is, a lot.
•More musical discipline - in rehearsal and performance.
•Learn more about getting better live sound.
•Improve interpersonal skills. (Less stupid, pointless, stupid, idiotic, pointless, repetetive fights.)
•Find a new way to find bass players. Network, rather that put an ad on Craig's List.
This is hardly the first time somebody quit a band. Now we've got an opportunity to find the right guy. Another opportunity. To be specific a "sixth" opportunity. Each one as been the dreaded "learning experience."
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Denied!

A few minutes ago, Kenton and I got an e-mail from Donna, the owner of the Hilltop Tavern:
Kenton: I'm very sorry but because of a disagreement with the city and code enforcement
I'm being forced to cancel all bands unless it is a private party or I hold my occupancy to 49 and that won't work for me on weekends. So keep in touch and when I get it all straightened out we'll try again. Donna
No gig. This Saturday, I'm back to being a civilian. I feel like a cop who has lost his gun and badge. It'll be a much easier weekend. But I had gotten addicted to the thrill of it all. As nervous as I was about doing a show without Nick, laid low by open heart surgery, I was still looking forward getting out there. Especially after a week of furious practicing. Even worse: I had already picked out my outfit! Is there no justice in this world?! Can anyone understand my pain?!
This is life on the fringes of show business.
If you believe that God works our daily lives, you have to wonder: is He trying to tell us something? Is it a city code problem, or Divine Intervention?
I picture God in his control room in front of a bank of glowing screens, drumming his fingers on the console and watching Kenton, Player X and myself rehearsing last Monday. He mumbles darkly.
"You'd think they'd get the message after I arranged the harmonica player's brush with mortality," He says, frowning. "Are these tone-deaf clods also blind? Am I going to have to pull out the burning bush routine? If I have to listen to that Chance guy mangle 'Close to You' one more time, I going to hit the flood button and conveniently misplace the ark blueprints."
He reaches for the telephone.
"Well, I've got contacts in the city code enforcment department," God says, punching in the numbers. "And I'm not afraid to use them."
I find this scenario strangely comforting. It's more acceptable to me than simple bad luck or poor timing. I don't want to be jinxed.
I like playing in bars. Bars are KDOG's natural habitat. We don't go over well at private parties, as we discovered. I like the people, the ambiance and I only wish they could still be filled with cigarette smoke, but the candy ass California legislature ruined that for everybody. We can play originals and nobody cares. The money's terrible, but the Heinekens and the Crown Royal are free. I'm cynical about almost everything else, but I still believe in this romantic myth.
I feel like the Martin Sheen character at the beginning of Apocalypse Now - you know, where Captain Willard waits in his hotel room for a mission. He's drunk, greasy and unshaven in his green Army underwear.
"Every moment Charlie squats in the bush, he get's stonger," Willard's voice over intones. "Every moment I spend in this room, I get weaker."
That will be me on Saturday night: waiting for a mission.
Actually, that gives me a great idea for the first KDOG music video: Rockpacalypse Now!. We are hanging out at the hotel, drunk, depressed and waiting for a gig. The Army intelligence people send us up the river and we play at Colonel Kurtz's 50th birthday bash in the jungle with Playboy Bunnies, soldiers on LSD firing flare guns and, for the big finish, the natives slaughter a calf.
In case you were wondering, being a genius isn't a burden.
I've got to play live. That's the only thing that keeps me growing and improving. I'll take any audience reaction at all, from wild applause to naked hostility.
Player X is trying to teach Kenton, Nick and I to get professional enough to play at bars that have actual caberet licenses, just so we can avoid this kind of problem. It's taking time, but I think he sees enough potential to stick with us. Right now, we're too loose and off the cuff, playing long sets, changing song arrangements on the fly and laughing when we screw up songs. If I feel like soloing at exactly the "wrong" time, that's exactly what I do.
This sort of enthusiastic amateurism is frowned upon at the "better places," where they have designer logo deodorant cakes in the pee trough.

Power Trio Saturday Night!

Last week, Nick "Sewer Boy" Ciani underwent a three-way coronary bypass. I wouldn't say it was an emergency, but they didn't exactly open up the floor for debate, either. He came through the operation great. One of the advantages of living like a monk is that, even though self-denial didn't stop his arteries from clogging up with goo, the rest of his body is in great shape.
I talked to Nick from his hospital bed on Saturday. He sounded groggy, but in good spirits.
"What I won't do for a blog entry," he said.
Nick thinks he'll be out of commission for two months. At least.
You coudln't ask for a more Geezer Rock worthy plot line. The only problem is that now our band story is mutating from one last exercise in mayhem and righteous noise to some kind of bullshit journey of love and healing.
It's sort of like we started as an independent film and ended up with a made for TV movie. ("Nick's Song?" Nah, he'd have to die for that to work.)
This is not the first time we've been forced into trio mode by health problems. The original KDOG bass player developed - I am not kidding - shingles of the brain, an incredibly painful and dangerous condition. I admit that I cursed him for leaving the band. I have a power. I must use it responsibly.
Kenton, Player X and I, like real show business troopers, will carry on Saturday night as a power trio at the Hilltop Tavern, 4747 Folsom Boulevard, next to Larry's Comfort Shoes.
I wish Larry's Comfort Shoes hosted bands. That would be great.
True story: Larry's once had a pair of custom made clown shoes in stock for years. My friend Zack Boles bought them after negotiating Larry down for weeks. They were black and white wing tips, but huge. I think Zack wore them to a wedding.
For the first time, I am scared. Nick the the heart and soul of KDOG. He writes our quirky original tunes. He sings 10 songs a night - that's a whole set. Plus, he plays half the solos. Now I have to do it all. Kenton, Player X and I have to handle all the vocals.
We devised a new song list to cover the holes at Monday's rehearsal.
Replacing Nick, even for a few weeks, is unthinkable. I mean, we've talked about it. A harp player? A guitar player? A keyboard guy? It doesn't feel right.
Player X, who is turning out to be a real grown-up, is forcing Kenton and I to play tighter. We're just a little too "off the cuff." Player X likes everything rehearsed and worked out in advance, then you play it the same way every night. I still think we need some spontaneous moments, but hey, we've been so spontaneous that you can't tell what song we're doing sometimes.
When you're my age and play guitar, you allow youself to fantacize at moments about fronting the classic power trio: Cream, Rush, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble before the keyboard guy joined, ditto Gov't Mule, The Jam, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, ZZ Top, etc.
It's a great fantasy. The reality is that there's a lot of pressure on the guitar player to fill out the sound by playing lead and rhythm at the same time, while still working out interesting solos from song to song for a whole night.
I don't know if I'm up to it, but we're going to keep the fun and the show biz dialed up to 11. Nick will be recovering at his home a few blocks away. We'll set up his microphone and music stand with his lyrics and a harp, ready to play. Just in case.
After complaints (mostly from chicks) about the volume level at the last Hilltop Gig, I have made some changes in my set up. I found that a Stratocaster, with its lower power single coil pickups, makes a better pairing with my 50-watt Marshall half-stack than the Les Paul. I can reserve the Paul for later, when the place is crowded and loud isn't as much of a problem. The Les Paul puts out so much sound that the volume level gets harder to control We tested this out on Monday. It worked very well. The Strat makes the Stevie Ray Vaughan covers sound better, too.
I'm still clinging to the Marshall, even though it's a bit much, because the 4x12 cabinet creates suchh a big, lush tone, which really fills out the sound when my guitar is the only instrument that plays chords. Smaller amps just don't have this presence - unless you mike them through the PA. It's hard to do this right without a professional sound man running the board. That's a luxury we don't have. Also, the Marshall gets a great clean sound when I roll off the volume knob on my guitar - very useful. I use a hot plate power attenuator on various settings through the night to tame this monster amp.
The problem with a lot of amps is that they sound great when the guitar's volumne is on '10,' but get wimpy, dull and muffled as soon as you roll back. The Marhall doesnt' behave like that. With the guitar on '10,' the Marshall is filthy, loud, distorted, compressed and just plain nasty. With the guitar on '4' or '5,' the sound becomes very clean and shimmering and woody, but without now loss of the critical mid and high end sparkle. You hear this tone all over Hendrix recordings. So, we'll see how the sound balance works on Saturday. The Fender 1959 4x10 Bassman can be used this way. I have the reissue. You crank the mid and treble all the way up. Then you run your tone and volume with the guitar's controls. It works pretty well, but the sound is not as tasty as the Marshall.
The show starts at 8 p.m. on Saturday. It's gonna be interesting.