Geezer Rock

Can't You Smell That Smell?

Kenton, Nick and I moved all the gear from the mojo dojo to my house last week. My home office now resembles the pro audio department at Guitar Center, a.ka. Shit-Tar Center. (Slogan: "We have one of everything, we just can't find it right now.") This era-ending event occured last Wednesday. Thursday morning I entered the office to a familiar and comforting smell: the heavy mush of the Mojo Dojo Rehearsal Studio and Hair Care Products Storage Facility. As you may recall from previous posts, the late hair styling legend Hitoshi "Tosh" Tamaribuchi used the Mojo Dojo to store vats of industrial strength hair products. The perfume apparently soaked in to our gear. It's not much, but it's all I have left of a great era - almost two years. Perhaps someday the Mojo Dojo will be a rock and roll historical site, visited by fans, much as Beatle buffs visit the Cavern Club in Liverpool today. The only reason to pray for this is that it would drive the Sacramento Taiko Drummer group nuts. They're very serious and cared not at all for our racket.
We tried to rehearse the next night, Thursday. Dru couldn't make it. He forget that he had to go to a going away for his wife thrown by her office chums. Kenton, Nick and I did our no bass player thing yet again. We didn't really work on anything. We just played just to do it.
First, we set up the PA, using just one power amp and two small speakers. This worked well, but, with my typical inattention to detail, the floor was covered with a swarming mess of cords thanks to an awkward placement of the mixer and amp. I'm having Brett tear everything down today while I'm one and work and rebuild it with a neater layout.
Kenton is talking about renting a permanent rehearsal space in a studio. We'd have air conditioning, sound proofing and a clean power supply. We could leave our gear there. But it would cost $400 a month - $1,200 a year each. I don't sense a lot of enthusiasm for spending that much money when we're not making anything. But I can see that rehearsing at my house permanently is highy sub-optimal. It's cramped, it hot, the sound isn't any good and all the gear driving me nuts. The Long Suffering Mrs. Chance isn't exactly a fan of this strategy, either. "Why couldn't you move it to Kenton's house?" she asked. "Because he already has like 20 drum sets at his house all ready," I explained. Kenton is also very particular, even anal. He jokes that he is both ADD and OCD. The Mojo Dojo was very dusty and dirty. All the gear is filthy, especially the cords. It would make Kenton ill to bring all that into his house, which is maintained with complusive neatness. Instead, I've got it, with the original Mojo dust and smell.
For a band that has gigs coming up in September and a bass player who doesn't know all the songs, we're not rehearsing with much purpose or intensity. Kenton was sick on Monday. He hates being ill and usually just treats a cold with contempt. This is a man who once drummed his way through an entire skull-imploding gig at the Stoney Inn while suffering from a throbbing migraine that would've forced most people to lie quietly in a darkened room. I noticed Kenton was having trouble remembering cues. I looked over at him. His eyeballs were popping out of his skull and he was covered with sweat, but he kept going. So I knew he must really feel awful.
Fortunately, my son Brett filled on in drums, as he has before, so Nick, Dru and I could work out some tunes. Dru is playing is Epiphone copy of the Paul McCartney "violin" bass with flatwounds, which sounds really deep, woody and bluesy. He had to pawn is main bass. Talk about nostaligic: when I was in teen garage bands, regular trips to the pawn shop were a part of life. Cash it out on Friday, thrash it on Saturday, rest it on Sunday then cash it back in Monday morning. Anytime we needed a piece of gear for a gig, we'd get it a the pawn shop and turn in back in when we were done. In the early and mid-70s, the pawn shops were full of great-sounding vintage gear that'd be worth a fortune today. Back then, it was looked on as worn out, old and corny.
My God, keeping this enterprise together takes a lot of work. We all have busy lives. It's hard to make the band a priority. In fact, I have to make it too much of a priority, which is causing some friction at home, since I'm neglecting other important chores. It's not that I can't integrate all this, it's just that I'm so naturally disorganized that I have trouble managing a full schedule. I waste far too much time on things that aren't important. The Geezer Rock life, ironically, demands efficiency and focus, which seem antiethical to the rock life. But I've noticed that the big rock starts often maintain crushing work schedules. The band is starting to remind me of being in the Boy Scouts, which is hardly what I had in mind when we started this nonsense.
©Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Mojo Dojo RIP

It's official. We're kicked out of the Legendary Mojo Dojo Rehearsal Space and Hair Care Products Storage Facility.
An era has ended in sadness. Our gear is still imprisoned there. We've got to make arrangements to move it all out next week.
We subleased the Mojo Dojo from Kenton's good buddy, Tosh, local hair cutting superstar. Tosh died three weeks ago in Las Vegas. Tosh (Tow-sch) has a daughter, Tiffany, who is the head of the Sacramento Taiko drumming groups that practices next door. She's never been a big fan of the dynamic "KDOG sound." But that's not the real reason we're out, although I doubt Tiffany is sad to see us go. The landlord sublet the office next door. That's where the bathroom and the alarm key pad is. Those guys don't want us in there. I wouldn't either. The landlord doesn't feel the need to give us our own bathroom or alarm keypad so we're out. The gear moves to my home office. That's going to be our rehearsal space for a month or so until we find something else. Lucky neighbors!
Last week's practice, our final at the Mojo Dojo, was tight, especially considering how little we've played together since February.
Kenton has nailed another regular gig. We'll be playing the second Saturday of every month at Taco Loco on J Street. Second Saturday is the big downtown art walk event held each month. The stores and art galleries stay open late. Our mission is to keep Taco Loco full. It's a Mexican restaruant with a bar. You order at the counter and the bring the food to you. I've eaten there dozens of times. There is no stage or lights. We'll be stuffed back in the corner next to the kitchen. I'm looking forward to having my hair and clothes smell like enchiladas instead of conditioner.
Yes. We are the house band at Taco Loco. I am finally in the heart of show business.
We have another gig at a benefit at Fairy Tale Town in September. We played this last year, although Kenton KDOG Lee was on vacation. My son Brett filled in on drums. No bass player. Just me and Nick. I had to play rhythm and lead simultaneously the entire night, which was fun. Fortunately, I'd studied the masters of this two-in-one feat - Mick Green of Johnny Kydd and the Pirates and Wilko Johnson of Dr. Feelgood - for years. I also stole a bunch of moves from the late great T Model Ford, who produced a full, nasty sound with just guitar and drums. (His drummer was named Spam: the best single-syllable stage name ever in history.) We you hear him play, you understand how he got the name. His kick drum sounds like it's actually filled with Spam luncheon loaf. It's the funkiest drum sound I ever heard in my life.
I used to whine about having to practice and gig with no bass player, but it was the best guitar practice I never had. I really had to work to keep the sound filled out. Extended solos don't sound good, so every song is two minutes long, perfect for the age of Attention Deficit.
Note: I love Spam. Many people believe that Spam contains head cheese, organs and other animals parts. This is not true. Spam is very salty and fatty pork shoulder and ham, compressed and packed in aspic. That's the jelly stuff you see when the pink spam brick blorts out of the can onto your counter. Armour Potted Meat Product is the stuff that contains beef and pork stomach, among other tasty delicacies. It's one of the favorite food of Karl, the retarded killer in Sling Blade. The movies implies that Potted Meat Food Product contains "peckers," but this is another urban myth. Potted Meat Food Product is still available most grocery stores. It's with the canned Vienna sausages, Spam and Underwood Deviled Ham.
I am thinking about a song based on Spam, Potted Meat or both.
I hope the band has a busy Fall. We need to record some demos so we can audition to play at the 2008 California State Fair. That's my big plan for next year. Next up: Part 4 of the History of the Bittermen.
©2007 Edwar Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

History of The Bittermen, Part 3

Here in Part 3, The Bittermen break up and then reform with a new drummer, the dynamo Kenton “K-Dog” Lee.

NICK: Hatley is stressing Tom. So they call a meeting at Paragary’s. I thought it was just a regular dinner where we’re gonna have dinner as a band and chat and stuff. The three of ‘em, Jim Tom and Fitz, after a short period of time. Tom is very good at systematically telling you what the problem is. But ultimately, they say, “We’re quitting the band.” And Hatley and I are kind of looking at them, like “Wow. We’re blown away by this.” Hatley’s got like five or six gigs that are already booked. And I’ve gone from a six-piece band to a three piece. So, uh, they leave. Now it’s Hatley and I to carry on these four or five gigs. With Dave. And Hatley finds a bass player. We do two of the gigs. Then he had two more. One was a gig out in front of the Delta King on pioneer days in Old Sacramento. And we don’t know where we’re going to get a band. So we go down to the Torch Club. At the time, we didn’t even know that the Torch Club was the place for blues in Sacramento. We talk to Johnny Nugget, who was up there doing a solo thing. “Could you get us a band? We’ve got this gig.” He said, “How much does it pay?” I seem to remember that it was $125. He said, “Okay, I’ll take that. I’ll have a bass player and a drummer there. What time do I have to be there?” So we gave him the time and the date. So Hatley and I showed up there. We got our equipment situated. This old beat up van pulls up. The passenger door opens. This gypsy woman who is about five foot tall, draped in this flowing gypsy type costume with a bandana comes out and says “Okay, where’s Johnny going to set up? Where’s Johnny going to put his keyboard? Where is Johnny going to put this? Where’s Johnny going to put that?” And Johnny never came out until all these details were worked out. Then Johnny came out. He said, “Okay. I’ve got my drummer coming and I’ve got my bass player coming.” So they get there. They were setting up their equipment. And Johnny says to Hatley and I: “This is your gig. But if you guys look like you can’t handle it, you’re outta here. Because I’ve got a reputation in this town.” Hatley and I, this is the first time we had ever encountered anything close to an ego like this. This serious, “I’ve got an established name and you guys are nothing.” So we start playing. He’s playing keyboards. Hatley’s got his guitar. He’s got a wah-wah pedal and six other types of pedals. I didn’t know what any of it was. The bass player is standing behind us. Right behind us and off to the side. During the first number, Hatley’s singing. I’m playing. And my harmonica mike is starting to feed back. I didn’t know anything. Now, this is where I learned that no matter what’s going on stage, you always keep smiling. The bass player leans forward, smiling all the while, and says, “either you get that under control or I’m going to knock you off the stage.” All the while, he’s smiling. He never stopped smiling. Hatley and I are looking at each other and we’re petrified. We’re terrified. That we’re in this situation. So, a few more numbers went on. Hatley’s doing a number. John is doing a number. Hatley started this lead about four numbers into it. And it’s just terrible. It was like nothing anybody’s ever heard. Johnny comes out from behind the keyboard, in the middle of the tune, takes the guitar off Hatley, off his neck, over his head, put it on his head. He’s playing this guitar and it sounds pretty good. He’s jumping on all the pedals, all the wah-wahs, and now Hatley disappears into this crowd. Probably about 600 people. He’s gone. We get two more numbers. Then we took a break. They came over to me and said, “Where’s Hatley?” I’m going, “I have no idea.” And now they start looking at his blonde Gibson, all the pedals, and they start going “Okay, this is worth this much. And this is worth this much. These pedals are worth $120. They’re pricing out his stuff. How much they can get for all of his stuff at a parts shop so that they can get paid for this gig. So, we did two more sets. At the end of the last set – and the crowd is really huge at this time – I’m passing the audition with those guys. I’m not stepping on him. When he’s singing, I’m not playing. And when he’s doing his solos, I’m not playing. So I’m maturing under fire. So, for the last tune or two, I see Hatley coming through the crowd. I think, “Oh my god. Thank god.” He comes up. The gig ends. He pays ‘em off. And off they go. That was that.
There’s this other great story. We had this gig booked at Socal's Tavern. And a again, we didn’t have anybody to play it with us. It was a New Year’s Eve gig. So we went down to Skip’s music, hoping that we can connect with some musicians. There were these kids that were playing these guitars. Two of them. IT just so happened that they were a guitar player and a bass player. Dave was still playing drums for us at the time. We said, “hey, could you guys come and play this new year’s eve gig with us?” so they showed up. We did this gig. Just thrown together. It was the first time that it was a totally improvised setting for me. Where I didn’t know what was coming up. But these guys were playing all this heavy metal stuff. And so, we pulled off that gig. The thing that was great about that night was that at the stroke of midnight, I played “Bug Eyed Willie.” That was a big night for me. So anyway, Hatley and I went on like this for a while. Fitz got back into it. We had an open mike at Socal's where will played with a drummer who’d played with Little Charlie and the Nightcats. He was their original drummer. He went on to play with the Hucklebucks after us. So we did that for about a year. And that was amazing because this guy’s time was just unbelievable. He didn’t do too much. Just great taste. Great time. Then, one night, Fitz and I didn’t show up for a gig and that ended it. So now there’s a hiatus. Then the Bittermen Decide to get back together. So, we had a gig, just an impromptu thing: Fitz, Tom and I at a Philos reunion. (A high school social club they all belonged to.) And so we played. Jim said, “You guys sounded great. Let’s get the band back together.”
TOM: The second phase goes from September 2003 to November 2005. Okay. We get back together in 2003. Just once again the idea is not to really start a band. We just want to get together and have fun and practice. We get together once a week and practice. We actually say, “This time, let’s not create a band.” So we keep doing this. And then the idea comes up that maybe we need to perform for Dave’s wedding. (A reference to the second marriage of Dave Mering.) It’s be great if we could really turn into a band and perform at a party for Dave. So we need a drummer. So we start asking around for a drummer.
NICK: So then we came here and we were rehearsing. And Tom said, “If we’re going to play out, we need a drummer.” We get together a short list of drummers. I heard Kenton “K-dog” Lee play the drums at Dave Mering’s engagement party
DEAN CHANCE: Nick and I are at a engagement party for Dave Mering. The host has a music room with a piano, an upright bass and an electronic drum kit. Kenton was there. I knew Kenton played the drums because he never failed to mention this fact whenever we met. I’ve probably known Kenton socially for 20 years at this point. He’d been in radio sales all the time I’d been in advertising. He called on the agencies I worked at and married the media buyer at Mering and Associates, Debbie. I played the upright bass and Kenton played those electronic drums a little bit. He said, as he always did, “let’s get together and jam.” I had no idea what I was about to get involved in.

NICK: So we contacted K-Dog. That’s Kenton’s nickname. And I told Tom, I said, “Look. I don’t know anything about him, although I’ve known him for quite a few years. His wife, Debbie, works with Dave. I called Kenton, left a number. Kenton called us right back. He said, “Okay, I wanna hear you guys play.”
TOM: So Nick sees this happen at the Fobes’ house. He gets the phone number for Kenton and I call Kenton and I go “Come by, watch us practice and see if you think we’re any good and if you’d be interested in playing drums.” Kenton says, “Sure. I’ll be there.”
NICK: Then Kenton came to the house to hear us play. We played three or four numbers and a couple of original tunes and Kenton said, “I love you guys. I’ll play with the band.” So we played two more tunes. Kenton played bongos on them. That was it. Kenton said, "I'm in the band. Can I bring my drum set over?"
TOM: So he comes to our next practice. He plays the bongos a little bit while we’re playing. But before we even practice, he gives us about a 45-minute summary of his experience. It starts when he was a child prodigy. He started playing the drums when he was 3. Got his pro license when he was 5. They were wheeling him out when he was six to play side by side with some big swing bands.
JIM: Yeah. Its “I’m a pro musician. I’ve played for 80 different bands. I’ve done this, I’ve done that. You guys are a bunch of amateurs. Let’s hear you practice.” And at the end of this he says, “You guys are pretty rusty. You’re pretty rough. But I’d be interested in coming here and playing.” So we think: we got this pro drummer. We are honored that this level of drummer would wanna come and practice. He’s gonna solve all problems.
TOM: So next week, he shows up with all of his drums.
NICK: I was used to guys who would show up with their kits in the trunk. But Kenton says, “I’m going to get my roadies to bring the drums over.” So this is a whole new dimension in drum magnificence. “I’m going to get my roadies to bring my kit over in a couple of days.” I said, “Yeah, sure. You can set them in my big room.” And he shows up. And he it’s like the circus came to town. There are trap cases. There are boxes. There are bags. It seems like it never stopped. Three people, not stopping for about a half and hour. But he’s amazing at getting this huge apparatus into whatever space is available. And he did it there, too.
FITZ; And it is nice to start playing with a drummer.
TOM: But what was the first thing you noticed when we started playing? The first thing we noticed is that our amps barely have enough power. He’s LOUD.
JIM: Here we’ve been practicing for month. No problem. But now the neighbors are complaining. You guys are too loud. We start wearing earplugs. We’re all yelling about the noise. Kenton brought energy. He brought commitment. Always there. Always want to help organize things. Wants to perform. Let’s do this. Let’s do that.
TOM: No lack of commitment. Wants to practice twice a week.
JIM: There always this rift between people who want to play a little bit and the people who want to make it a second career.
TOM: The minute K-Dog comes into the group, things change. Because no longer are we gonna just take our time and practice and have fun. K-Dog has a plan. K-Dog has a schedule. And the first thing K-Dog gets is a key to Nick’s house. He gets a key to Nick’s house because K-Dog wants to practice his drums. K-Dog wants to be able to show up any time, any day, and be able to go in and start playing. Nick is like, “Please call me and warn me before you come over.” K-Dog ignores this. Nick could be naked in there taking a shower and here’s K-Dog practicing.
JIM: Nick could be having a dinner party and the drums would fire up
NICK: Oh, yeah. He was visiting the drum set all the time. The drum set was here. We were supposed to rehearse once a week. That’s it. “Well,” he said, “I gotta practice. So mind if I come over?” He was coming over about every day. I’d say, “Come on by.” I’d watch or go out and do my walks. He’s play. Then when I’d come back, we’d play a few tunes and then he’d split. I was going to go on vacation. And we had a gig coming up. Tom said, “Hey, man, can we rehearse at your house? I said, “Yeah, sure. Gave him a key. Kenton said, “Hey, I need a key, too.” Well, that may have been the biggest mistake of my life. I said, “Okay, yeah, sure – here’s a key.” So he started coming every day. When I got back, the neighbors are going “Hey, he’s playing every day. For a couple of hours.” I talked to Tom, I said, “I gotta get these keys back.” Tom says, “yeah, sure.” He gave me my key back. I went to Kenton. He didn’t want to give the key back. He was going to hold on to the key. So it took a good two or three weeks before he finally relented.
JIM: I think the other thing was, we all liked the blues from the beginning. That was what we played. With Hatley. And also with K-Dog – I don’t think either one of them really like the blues. They had other likes. K-Dog wanted to definitely go in a different direction.
NICK: We started rehearsing here. We got everything set up like it was a stage. Then one day he says, “I need monitors.” So he brought in two new monitors. “And I need a mike.” We went from now communication beyond “here’s a tune, let’s play it.” Now Kenton has the ability to hear and the ability to communicate. So now, Kenton became a bigger force in the Bittermen. He’s giving direction. The amazing thing about Kenton is, and I learned this early on, is the three things that you don’t tell Kenton are “Yes,” because it’s a blank check; “No,” because its an objection that he will do the ultimate to overcome; and anything else that makes sense. So I started to have fun with Kenton. He’d say something and I’d just barley whisper, "ah, bullshit" in the mike. He could hear it in the monitor. He'd jump up and say, "Who said that?" So, Kenton was great fun. I always enjoy him. He comes into it with all the earnestness in the world. Bring everything has to it and invests it all.
The thing was, Tom could only play out five times a year. He could rehearse once a week. He said, “I can play give gigs a year. These are the five gigs. A couple of times at the Club 2-Me. Those went great. Then Kenton started wanting to play more. There were several objectives going on at the same time. My agenda was I wanted to do an album. Something that, you know, I could give to Bobby and that he could have, you know. So he could say, “yeah, my dad was in this band.” So that was my focus. I wanted to get that done by Christmas. Kenton’s wanting to get us gigs. So there’s this pressure going on, a lot like when Hatley was in the band. Kenton was growing this thing a lot faster than we could handle.
©2007 Edward Dean Chance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.