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