Geezer Rock

History of The Bittermen, Part 2

The Bittermen, Part 2

KDOG is an offshoot of The Bittermen Blues Band. This is part two of their story. The band featured Nick Ciani, our harmonica player and dynamic male vocalist. This takes us up unitl just before the band breaks up the first time.

NICK: At the end of the second show, Bob and Carol, who lived down the street, said “Hey, look. We’re having a party. Our annual spring party. Will you come and play for it?” And we go, “Sure.” They said, “We’ll pay you.” And I thought, “Wow - a paying gig! That is a transition now from this garage band. Technically, once we get paid, we’re professionals.” Technically. So now we’re scampering for a few more songs. We really don’t’ know what we’re doing. We’re just throwing this stuff together. It’s coming out okay. So we go to Bob and Carol’s, thinking that things are going to go along as they always have. Well, we’re now playing to a bunch of people who don’t know us. Who don’t really know each other. Who don’t think it’s all that cool that we’re a bunch of buddies that got together. They’re at a party. And they’re expecting some higher level of entertainment that we did not meet. So at the end of this, our first real, legitimate, paying gig, Bob came out. We were going to charge him five dollars each. Just to legitimize ourselves. Five bucks each. So he comes out with bottle of wine and says, “Hey, you guys were great. Thank you.” He was really pretty cool. Now the bottle of wine was worth far more than five bucks each. But: does a bottle of wine really now legitimize you as a professional musician? I didn’t really feel like it did. I would’ve rather had the five bucks.
The next gig that we had: my brother Phil was coaching for Sacramento High, the baseball team. They were gonna take the kids to Osaka, Japan. The whole baseball team. They were thinking about ways to raise funds. So he came over and asked me, “Hey, would you guys play a fundraiser for Sacramento high? So, you know, I called Tom. “They want us to play this fund raiser." Everybody was up for it. Except the drummer, who said, “Hey, man, you know, I need to get paid. This should be a paying gig. I didn’t go to Sacramento High.” Again, there was that whole issue of, “Are we just a bunch of buddies that got together? Because we love each other an enjoy each other?" The second part of that is the adventure aspect of it. And then, maybe down the line, there may be a payday in it. But we you get an outside guy, they’re looking mainly for the money. They hope that they like us. The adventure aspect of it is irrelevant. So the issue of payment comes up. And we’re saying to the drummer, “Wait a minute, dude,we’re a bunch of buddies. We’re amateurs.” We worked that all out with him. I think we got him twenty five bucks or something. So we did this gig for Sacramento High over at the Fox and Goose. There were gonna be two bands there. This friend of Tom’s had a band, a professional band. We were going to be the “headliner” and play last. So this first band came on. They had down range mixing boards and everything. They were really good. They were nailing these standard tunes. Just sounding really good. And then we came on with our stuff. Because of the mixing aspect of it, we sounded pretty good, too. We sounded great. We were a bigger hit than they were. They were coming up and going, “Wow. You guys, you’re knocking ‘em out.” So that was our fourth gig. We wound up raising, I think, five hundred bucks. They printed t-shirts, with all the donors on it. And we’re learning more songs.
TOM: Hatley was aggressive. He wanted to play shows. He wanted to be famous. He wanted to get out there and perform. We, on the other hand, were “let’s go slow. We’re not that good. Let’s get better.” And Hatley’s one of these smarmy, lounge singer kind of guys who likes taking to the crowd. He’s up there, “Hey, baby, how you doin’?” He loves being up there, stretching songs out. We’re doing 10 minute songs, 12-minute songs. He really was a good front man.
JIM: He worked the crowd well.
FITZ: We were holding him back.
TOM: So we were together three years the first time. We probably did twenty performances in that time. We played at the Limelight twice. We played at the Argonaut, the biker bar, twice. We played at the Stoney Inn once. That was one of those Second Saturday deals where they opened up the whole art walk there. And we played on the K-Street mall a couple of times. We played at a wedding. We played at a winery. You know, we played actually a pretty good amount of shows. At one point, we picked up a sax player. We had even a trombone. We played at the Press Club.
JIM: One of my favorite gigs was at the Limelight. We had a really good sax player. There was a guy in the audience who had a trombone and just brought it up. That sounds like an odd mix, but man, it was a lot of fun. About the only problem we had was our drummer, who, it turns out, was some kind of a drug dealer.
NICK: Well, he would always disappear and you wouldn’t know where he was. Whether it was a rehearsal break or a gig break, he’d disappear. And we couldn’t find him. It was always “Where’s Dave?” Ultimately, he’d show up. The way we’d get him to show up is we’d all get on the stage and start playing. Then he’d come running out of nowhere.
TOM: Unlike some drummers who come in to fast and they’re playing too fast, he would slow down. He’d start the song almost at the right tempo and slow he’d slow down as the song went. A couple of things that happened, because of his drug use is that, one breaks, he’d go get a fix. And sometimes, that’d take a good amount of time. He didn’t come back once. So the sax player just started playing the drums. He was actually better. It was actually a good set.
JIM: Another incident at the Limelight, in between song, I looked back just in time to see him falling off his chair with a crash, knocking over cymbals. So that was a typical Dave experience.
FITZ: One time he showed up at one of our more important gigs without his bass pedal. That was when we were an hour late.
TOM: Well, that’s drummer problems for you. But we kept him on because we’re The Bittermen: we never fire anybody. If you piss us off enough, we just all quit.
NICK: Hatley was like KDOG: He could get gigs. That was his real talent. He could get gigs. He was in this arts circle. And he got us a gig at the Crocker Art Museum. It was an early evening gig. So we got together in the afternoon and started setting up all our stuff. And for some reason, they gave me the responsibility for getting Fitz and Hatley there.
JIM: The truth be known, do not depend on Nick Ciani to be your clock. He’s talented, but there were times we he just wasn’t “feeling right.” So he just wouldn’t play. He was a little more fragile.
FITZ: I remember it was time for him to solo. I go, “It’s your turn baby.” And he’s not there. He’s hiding behind the speaker!
JIM: If he wasn’t feeling it that night, there’d be just nothing. I remember one time he actually walked of the stage and sat down. We we were calling on him to do a lead and he’s sitting in the audience.
TOM: Anyway, everybody’s dressed up. Wine. Catered event. And here we are, this blues band. They had a huge stage set up. So we went and set up. It was an early evening show or late afternoon. We went and set up early. Everybody goes home to change. But they live in the area, so no problem. I got back with my outfit on. The time of starting the show is coming up. I’m sitting out in the crowd. The stage is empty. Nobody else in the Bittermen Blues Band is there. Finally, fifteen minutes later, twenty minutes later. The organizer is going, “Is your band here?” I go, “No.” They say, “Well, can you call ‘em?” I said, “I did. Nobody’s answering.” They go, “Well, can’t you play something?” I go “I’m a bass player. What do you want me to do? Get up there and do a bass solo?” Then its 45 minutes later. And they’re like, “Where in the hell is your band?” I said, “If I knew, I would tell you. I’m this close to leaving myself. They’re an hour late. Everybody’s pissed. I’m pissed. The organizers are pissed. They audience is like, “Hey we thought there was gonna be a band! So we start. Nick is so pissed that he unlplug’s Fitz’s amp. So Fitz had no sound. The drummer had been taking drugs too long. He can’t play. We muscle through this show. Fitz do you remember why you guys were late?
FITZ: All I know is I thought the time was an hour earlier. But they didn’t’ pick up up until twenty minutes after the time we were supposed to start. I’m like “Oh, shit, guys, I thought we were supposed to start at 5 oclock.” No one’s saying anything. I’m thinking everyone is cool And so we get down there. I’m none the wiser. Somebody comes up to us and says “You guys were supposed to be an hour a ago!” I’m thinking, “I gotta walk in there? We’re an hour late? Well, I guess the show must go on.”
JIM: They were late because Hatley took too long getting dressed.
FITZ: Nick had my car! I couldn’t’ get there because he had my car. I woulda been there at five.
NICK: Somewhere in here, Hatley starts to play the guitar. Tom says it sounds like a cat scratching the chalkboard. But he’s got Paul Bunyan balls and a dinosaur hide. He’s impervious to insult. He was great a fronting a band and he was great at getting gigs. That was his main thing. So he’s getting us all these gigs. And Tom is starting to get a little stressed because the power structure is now shifting. At one time, Tom was the manager. Everybody agreed on it. It was kind of defacto. His management style was more laizze fare. We knew what we had to do, so let’s just do it. But now Hatley comes in. And now he’s getting us gigs and it’s kind of stressing the whole thing. And he introduces this guitar thing. Now we have like three guitars, a drummer, a bass and a harmonica player. Hatley was playing guitar, Fitz was playing guitar and Jim’s playing guitar. Tom is playing bass. Basically what we have is three guitars soloing all the time. I mean all the time. And Hatley is getting us gigs that the other guys are not agreeing to. And they also don’t like the drummer. He’s taking breaks. He’s going through Fitz’s house. Every time he takes a break, Fitz is running after him. They don’t’ know where he is. They can’t find him. Then we start playing and all of the sudden, he appears. This whole thing is going on and stressing Fitz.
TOM: Hatley wanted to play so much, it was getting to be a lot like work. Over a three year period, you go from “Hey, this is fun. Let’s get together, play our instruments once a week, maybe have a couple of beers and we’re having a good time” to “Okay, now we’ve got something on Friday night." So we’ve got to practice two times during the week to get ready for that. Pick up the equipment at five in the afternoon. Go get set up. Play until one a.m. come back and take the stuff down maybe on Sunday or something. It was just way too much work. But Hatley really was into it.
JIM: I think most of us really enjoyed playing house parties. Because that’s what we started out doing. You have a soft audience. People love what you’re doing. They’re having a good time. Then that transitioned into playing clubs. Even though it’s a small amount of money, it’s still a “professional” gig. You’re getting paid. They expect a product. And it’s not a soft crowd. It wasn’t as much fun.
TOM: And the lead singer, Hatley, became a monster. First of all, he wants to join. We gave him a couple of songs. He’d do those. Then he wanted three songs. Four songs. It ends up, he basically want to do every song. And he decided singing wasn’t enough, he wanted to play guitar, too. And he didn’t know how to play guitar. He started off just holding the guitar in his hands while he would sing. Then he’d maybe play a few notes. Then he just started playing. And he didn’t know how to play guitar, so it sounded a lot like a screaming cat.
FITZ; I’m telling you, by the end, when we started doing that stuff at Socal’s, the every Sunday night blues gig – you two guys had quit – I swear to God, Hatley had gotten good at guitar. No questions about it. This was like just two years later. He could do it.
TOM: Yeah, but he couldn’t play guitar for like a year. He’d carry that guitar everywhere. After our gigs, we’d go into Lyons and eat. It’s be like three in the morning. Hatley would bring his guitar into Lyons. Just to show everybody in there that he’s in the band.
FITZ; Nothing wrong with that. He’d divorced my sister by then.
JIM: He had a nice guitar, too. A nice Gretsch. He did not buy cheap stuff.
FITZ: One of the best gigs we ever had was at the Stoney Inn. The crowd fuckin’ loved us. The chicks wanted us. It was unbelievable. Nick leaves. Doesn’t play the second set. Cause his girlfriend wanted to go home.
TOM: We played at the biker bar, the Argonaut on Del Paso. It’s further down Del Paso from the Stoney Inn. Right next to the ice place. It’s a known biker bar. It was owned by a Hell’s Angels member. It has a reputation that goes back. We knew it was risky to play there. The only people in there are bikers. We were afraid to go play. But Hatley, our big singer, he got us this gig. So we set up. We start playing. Nobody is even acknowledging our existence. Everybody’s just sitting in their chairs not doing anything. It’s late at night. Maybe midnight. Then it’s like a switch gets thrown. Everybody’s up and dancing, having fun. We go until two. They’re patting us on the back. During that gig, there was a huge fight. Some black guy accidentally came into the bar. We’re up there playing. There’s big fight going on in the audience. We’re kind of stopping, looking around, getting ready to run. I mean, they beat this guy up just for coming in! Anyway, we’re done. They pay us. And the way they pay us is the lead biker guy clicks his fingers. This chick with, you know, huge tits, walks over all pissed off, grabs the money, walks over to us and says “Here’s your money.” Then she goes. “You can come back.” Now we’re trying to take all the stuff off the stage. All the Harley’s are lined up by the back door. It’s a big deal. There’s a big sign that says “Harley’s Only!” Well, our drummer is pissed off that these Harley’s are in his way for taking his drums out. So he’s yelling at these bikers. “Hey you son of a bitch, your bikes are in the way! I can’t get my drums out!” They let him load up. He leaves. They didn’t say anything. Turns out, later one, the bikers got a code. They won’t beat up retard guys. They’ll be up anybody else. If you try to be a tough guy on their terms, they’ll kill you. But if you’re just too stupid to live. they ignore you.
JIM: They’re other code is, they protect the band. Because they other time, there was another fight in there. I was walking in. And they literally had this guy up in the air. The way they work is they beat the tar out of ya. Then there’s about two or three of them and they literally throw you out the back door. This guy went right by me, over my head. The only thing I’m thinking is ‘If we get out of here with our lives, we’ve done good.' But in fact, they don’t mess with the band.
FITZ: It was fun!
NEXT: In part 3, Kenton "KDOG" Lee joins The reformed Bittermen!
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

History of the Bittermen, Part One

BITTER HISTORY, PART ONE

What follows is the long overdue, mind-bending story of The Bittermen Blues Band – the band that gave birth to KDOG in the wake of its bitter breakup.
I totally respect The Bittermen, who, as you are about to see, formed a band before they could even really play very well. This “friend first, music second” model has served many bands well, including U2 and The Beatles. The members of both bands were barely able to play when they first started.
I’m letting The Bittermen tell the story in their own words. Nick “Sewer Boy” Ciani was a founding member of The Bittermen. Kenton “K-Dog” Lee, our current drummer and fearless leader, joined The Bittermen during their triumphant comeback, which quickly turned into another bust-up. The lesson of this story is clear: get out there and do it. Anybody can talk about forming a band. These crazy 30 somethings, now in their 50s, actually went and done it.
This is their story. Respect it!
The Bittermen interviewed are:
Nick Ciani: harp, vocals, poetry
Tom Andrews: Bass, vocals, technical stuff
Jim Andrews: Guitar
Fitz Miller: Guitar

Commentary: Nick started playing harmonica to beat the blues after his divorce. This took place about 5 years before the formation of The Bittermen.
Nick: I was 25 when I started playing the harmonica. I was single and raising Bobby by myself. When I was in college, I met this guy. He was a Vietnam Vet. There were lots of vets coming back to college on the GI Bill. I gravitated to these older guys just because they were more interesting. I was hanging out through all of my college years with these Vietnam vets. I met this guy who played the chromatic harmonica. He would play show tunes. “As Time Goes By,” stuff like that. I thought, “Wow. This is really cool.” A couple of years went by. I started driving trucks for the Sacramento Bee at night. I thought, “I’m going to get a harmonica.” I’d have to wait for a couple of hours at work, not doing anything.” So I went in to this music store that used to be over on Capitol and about 26th street. Or maybe it was J. Anyway, I went in there and I told the guy, “hey, I want to buy a harmonica.” He said, “Well, what do you want?” I said, “I don’t know.” I didn’t know anything. He said, “Well, here, take this one.” It was a Blues Harp. So I took it home. I’m kind of like tweaking on it. There was literature that came with it. Songs like “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore.” Then there was a discography with Sonny Boy Williamson and all these blues guys. So I went down to Tower Records and bought the Sonny Boy Williamson record One Way Out. For the next five years, I picked that thing up every night and put it on and tried to play to it. I still play to it.
I was just playing along, not really even thinking that I’d ever get in a band or anything. I was divorced. I was kind of living this blues life, raising my son and driving trucks at night. So there’s this whole blues feeling that I’ve got. And I’m buying more and more music. And I’m really digging all this. Tom and Fitz and Jim are lifelong buddies. We played on softball teams and whatnot. This time, we were playing volleyball. I was in the bathroom because the acoustics were good. I was blowing my harmonica. They came in through the door. “Hey,” they said, “we never knew that you played that.” We sat down and started BS-ing a little bit. I learned that Fitz had taken guitar lessons as a kid. Jim had a guitar at home that he was tweaking on. And Tom, when he was going to Chapman, knew a bunch of guys who had this jug band. Tom said, “Hey, we oughta form a band. I said, “Well, yeah. Let’s do it.” So Tom’s girlfriend bought him a guitar, a bass. He went and took lessons. After several months of that, we got together and just starting making noise. The band just developed from there.
TOM: We started in 1992 and went to, probably, the first quarter of 1994. Okay, this is the way we started. None of us knew how to play our instruments. My brother knew a little bit about how to play guitar. Fitz knew a little bit about how to play guitar. I knew absolutely nothing. And Nick, he had been playing the harp for awhile. So actually, he was the best musician to start with and we just got together and practiced.
JIM: We just tried to develop something. We didn’t have any real vision
TOM: I went and bought a $99 dollar guitar over at Skip’s. Just an acoustic guitar. And we started to play.
FITZ: He took some lessons and kind of learned some bass parts on the guitar and that’s the way it started.
TOM: I came up with that name The Bittermen because when I went to college, one of my friends, Martin, played on the baseball team. And all the baseball players back in the late 70s and early 80s who were on that team had a really regimented structure to their lives. They couldn’t have any facial hair. They had to have really short haircuts. They practiced twice a day. They had to get up really early to go to the first practice. Then again late in the afternoon, running their asses off. They were all bitter. That’s what they called themselves. “A bunch of bitter guys.” It kind of worked for us. I was happily married. But Nick, he was in a situation. There were some other issues going on.
JIM: Nick was single. I had just broken up with my girlfriend. I was single. Fitz has always been single. Most women who could come and see us would come up to me as say, “why are you up there?” What have YOU got to be bitter about?” Because they thought we were women haters. And you know- they were kind of right.
NICK: Were rehearsing over at Fitz’s house. Tom was always a little bit further ahead on the electronics and the PA and all that. He had studied theater productions at Chapman. So he knew how to put together the sound system. We had all these speakers. We had a little PA with mikes set up at Fitz’s house. Once a week, we’d get together and rehearse. Our friends would come in. The sounds were getting better and better. They were bearable. We got about 10 songs together. Tom said, “Why don’t we have a show?” We invited all of our friends over there. I bet there were 50 or 60 people, maybe more, at Fitz’s house for our first show.
TOM: We had no structure, meaning I would go to guitar lessons once a week. I would learn a different three bar pattern. Real simple chords. Power chords. Not even a full chord. They were just two-string chords. The first one we learned, we called it “The Train.” We’d learn these different patterns and we’d all play the guitar at the same time. No bass line. No drums. No real singer. Nick was just playing the harp. We just kept going like that, until I said, “Well, I’ll just play a bass line on the guitar and outline the chords. Jim will play lead guitar and Fitz will be rhythm.” Then we just kept developing it. Eventually we got to the point where we decided we eventually wanted a drummer. We did play a two shows without a drummer. We played at Fitz’s house.
JIM: We had a pretty big crowd. Fitz has this huge room. So we set up at one end. No drummer. Just the four of us and all these seats. We put seats down. People could actually sit down like it was a small auditorium. We played our four songs that we knew at that time. People walking by could hear it and they’d come up, too. A couple of guys came in and we kicked ‘em out or something. So they got ticked off. Fitz had left his keys in the door so they grabbed his keys and went running down the street. Our first adventure was crowd control issues.
NICK: About this, time Hatley arrived. I don’t know if it was before or after the drummer. They both came in at about the same time. Now Hatley was Fitz’s brother-in-law at the time. He was from Norfolk, VA. He was a pretty capable singer and front man. He comes by one night, kind of sizing everything up, looking around. We finish the number and Fitz says, “This is my brother-in-law.” Hatley says, “Can I sing a couple of numbers?” I said, “Sure.”
TOM: Then we picked up Hatley.
FITZ: He was married to my sister.
JIM: He worked at The Bee. (The Sacramento Bee, the newspaper.)
TOM: Hatley came and watched up practice and said, “Hey, I’ll be your lead singer.” I’m cut out for that kind of work. So he starts singing. We got a little 40-watt PA. Four channel. He starts singing. We start learning a few more songs. We got a drum machine. We learned a few more songs and decided to have our second show.
NICK: The only thing Hatley did at first was sing. He started bringing more and more songs in. Tom kinda was great at balancing things. I had six or seven songs. Hatley had six or seven. So we went from that first house party to another house party at Fitz’s. Again, it was great. It was all our friends. It was basically more of a love fest than it was a musical experience. “Hey, there’s going to be a big party at Fitz’s house. We’re going to see all the people that we love. Oh, and the band’s going to play, too.” People started getting a kick out of the band. “Man, this is great. You guys are a bunch of buddies.” For that expectation, we were really pretty okay. We met whatever level expectation of the people who were coming.
TOM: Our second show was at my ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend’s house In the back, they had this little house. It had a built-in bar. A pretty big room. Perfect place for a party. It had its own little bathroom. And we set up and did our second show. With a drum machine and a real lead singer and people thought, “These guys are great.” Now, granted, they were drunk.
JIM: Which has always worked to our advantage.
TOM: That’s a key to our success. People really enjoyed it. They like house parties.
NICK: At the time, Tom was singing one number and I was singing all the rest. We had about 12 songs. We did “Boom, Boom”.” We did an original song that Tom wrote called “Susie Girl.” We did “Bug Eyed Willie.” We did an Albert Collins song that Jim liked. We did a Sonny Boy Williamson song, “Born Blind.” So Hatley came in and I said, “you do these three songs.” I’ve got the rest. Tom has one. And that’s the set.”
TOM: So we did two gigs without a drummer. Then we got a drummer. Dave. I can’t remember his last name. He was the brother of somebody we knew.
FITZ: Jill.
NICK: Well, we were at a different party talking about this band and a friend, she said, “Well, my brother plays the drums and he’s looking for a band.” We said, “Hey, we’re going to be rehearsing on Thursday night. Have him come by. So he came by.
TOM: This guy could play the drums. He came in, watched one of our practices and picked up a big pot and a wooden spoon out of Fitz’s kitchen and started playing this thing.
NICK: So he shows up with a pair of sticks and no drums. So we got pots and pans out of Fitz’s cabinet, He auditioned literally on pots and pans. He was good. He had a lot of facility. We said, “If you want to be in the band, you’re in the band. He was really excited. He was a lot like K-Dog (Kenton Lee) in his hyperactive enthusiasm for the band, you know, “I love you guys. Let’s play!” So then we started playing with him.
TOM: We thought, “Hey, this guy is pretty good. You’re hired. Come on in.”
NICK: Now, everyone else always thought he was on drugs. He probably was.
JIM: He goes, “Well, can I bring a couple of drums over?”
TOM: We go “sure.” And it, the drum set, starts growing. First the bass drum. Maybe one other drum.
FITZ: It’s in my living room. This whole set. It grows.
TOM: Every week, it keeps growing as he brings other things. Then the bells come. But now we’ve got a drummer.

Next: The Bittermen start gigging for real.

©Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Going Forward

Nick's heart surgery, the depature of Player X on bass, the city code problems at the Hilltop Lounge and the difficulties of regrouping with Dru killed the band's momentum. We've had exactly one gig since February. There wont' be another until Sept. 14, as far as I know.
Kenton "KDOG" Lee, he who owns 20 drum sets, started his own advertising agency in February. I told him he was crazy to do this when he was already the greatest radio sales rep in town. Why take on clients? Why manage people? But, as Nick maintains, "there are three things you don' say to K-Dog: yes, no and anything that make sense." Becoming an agency head at 55 is so labor intensive that even Kenton, who seems to be powered by a cold fusion reactor, doesn't have the energy to build the business and the band with his usual fervor.
I am amazed by how difficult it is to keep a Geezer band together. Monday was our first rehearsal in almost a month. Vacations and work are to blame. A two-hour weekly rehearsal is barely time enough to memorize what part of the microphone to sing into. The fewer gigs we have, the more I forget about how the PA is wired together. (Fortunately, we now have ace Swedish sound engineer Phillip working with us. The poor bastard. I looked at his music collection. He actually likes real music. He must really need the money.)
Then: last week Kenton's good friend Hitoshi "Tosh" Tamaribuchi died unexpectly in Las Vegas. He was just 62. A heart attack took him. The produced two aftershocks in the world of KDOG. First, the loss of a good friend, so close to his own age, really jolted Kenton. "Sixty-two!," he lamented. I'll be there in five years." I tried to comfort him by pointing out he could die at anytime and 62 isn't some kind of jinxed, Indian-sign number. "Great," he said.
The other problem: Tosh is the man from whom we lease the Legendary Mojo Dojo Rehearsal Studio and Hair Care Products Storage Facility. Tosh's daughter, Tiffany, owns the Sacramento Taiko Dan drumming group that rehearses in the next space over. I think she'd like to see us move out. We've already gotten the call about ending the arrangement. (Fans of the Geezer Rock blog will recall my frequent references to the Taiko Dan - a group that plays those amazing, huge Japanse drums. I often call them the "Angry Women Drummers" even though I have no proof that the are angry or even women. I think I saw a guy in there once. I'm pretty sure the Angry Women Drummers think our band stinks. ) Tosh died owning Kenton $3,000. Maybe we can apply that to the rent and stay for another year. I only met Tosh twice. He'd run several popular hair salons in Sacramento. Like a lot of guys in the hair business, he seemed to have friends everywhere he went. A lot of people I know knew Tosh, although I didn't realize the connection until this week, when it seems every other person I talk to mentions his death.
If we lose the lease, that will be the end of a key piece of KDOG history. I don't know where else we'll find such an accomodating space for so little money.
Nick was on vacation Monday. So rehearsal sounded a bit thin. Dru's ability to sing good harmony parts on the fly amazes me. He gave me one piece of distrubing news: his old band, Ruby Scooter, is starting up again. They rehearse twice a week. He's going to be a busy guy. Just so long as he doesn't quit. I pray about this.
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Dog Days

Kenton is on vacation - or at least gone. Dru, Nick and I worked at Dru's house on Monday evening. It was hot on the little porch Dru uses as a music room. When we arrived, a a kid band featuring Dru's daughter Abby on drums was practicing for their first show. They placed a fun version of "These Boots Are Made For Walking," the Nancy Sinatra song. Then they did a White Stripes song - "Hotel Yorba," I think.
Dru is not familiar with blue bass patterns. These things are like a second language to me. It's interesting showing him how they work. I have to slow down and think. Dru is musical. He can sing almost any melody he can hear in his head. His pitch is accurate, too. I sing the bass parts to him, hoping they will bury themselves in his mind and muscles.
The best part: I am gradually giving Dru more of my songs to sing. I'll keep a few that I can do well. Dru just has a better rock and blues voice. My voice is as uniform, plain and colorless as a slice of Wonderbread. On Monday, I got him to do "Rattle Snake Shake," which he can effortlessly sing in the same key as the great Peter Green/Fleetwood Mac recording: A. He sounded great. The learning processs is slow, but he's going to make the band a lot more listenable and fun.
Drue played his Jaguar bass through his 300-watt Ampeg SVT with the 8x10 cabinet - the amp that has broken the ears and vertabrae of many players. I'd never played through one of this monsters before. It sounded great.
But...it's just too much amp. The classic amateur mistake. It's a mistake Kenton and I made when we acquired the 50 watt Marshall half stack. It's a wonderful amp. One of the best ever made. Its sound is instantly recognizeable as classic rock tone. Think Free. Think Bad Company. Think Hendrix at Woodstock. Think Duane Allman at the Fillmore Est. But it's just too damn loud. I tried to tame it with a power attenuator. That's a device that goes between the head and the speaker and turns some of the amp's power into heat, resulting in a reduction in decibels. But you also lose some tone - the very sound you're paying all those very large dollars to achieve. It's dumb. At first, I liked the sound. But any adjustment beyond -4 DB started to sound think, crackly and wimpy. What's the point?
Dru now uses the Marshall as a bass amp, which sounds great. I have switched to the Genz Benz Black Pearl, probably the fifth amp I've tried with the band. It's adjustable to either 7, 15 or 30 watts. While it doesn't have channel switching, it does let you kick in a boost for leads. It yields good clean and dirty sounds, too, making it much more flexible than the Fender tweed amps I've been using. God only knows if I'll stick with this. The Black Pearl weighs a ton, even though it's not much larger than a Fender Deluxe. It feels solid, with no rattles or buzzes, even when you've got it turned up loud enough to knock squirrels out of trees a block away. But it's best feature is that it can get a rock sound without destroying the brains of paying customers.
Also, the Black Pearl is not a Fender tone: it's not so glassy and twangy. It's thicker and darker.
We don't have another gig scheduled until Sept. 14 - a benefit at Fairy Tale Town. Last year, Nick and I played this gig, accompanied by my son Brett on drums. Kenton was out of town. Brett earned school credit for both a cultural event and community service for playing. I think we need to get one more gig this summer, in August. The long layoffs are eroding what little ensemble skill we possess. Gigs are the best practice.
One of the biggest problems in a band like this is keeping the momentum. Distractions such as work and, in Nick's case, almost dying, act like a drag chute on progress. I found the same problem in maintaining a fitness/workout program: just about everything else in life conspires to keep you out of the gym. You have to be as ruthless and selfish as a crack whore going after her next rock. A lovely image. Is it possible that I am a ruthless crack whore?
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHT RESERVED.