Summer O' Swabbies Begins!

May I just say: Swabbies is my new home. I wish I could just live there in on of the junked trailers parked in the dirt.
We played for a friend's graduation party at Swabbies on the river yesterday from 1 to 4 p.m. This place is perfect for us. When Drew and I pulled the Mojo Mini Van full of gear into the gravel parking lot, Dru looked at the run down main building, the plastic tables, the river and all the dirt and perfectly articulated what I was feeling: "Yes. Hell yes. It's so grizzly."
And it is. It's a road house in the river. A dive. A place to have a good time. The stage is outdoors overlooking the river. I-5 looms overhead. The roar of cars and trucks provides a comforting white noise - and really fills out your band's sound. The staff is friendly and helpful, especially the manager Chris. I walked inside at 11 a.m. to the smells of biscuits, gravy, coffee, frying potatoes, cold concrete and wet dust. The memories of every great bar I've ever loved came rushing back. Swabbies especially reminds me of The Glenarm Tavern in Glenarm, Illinois. (The original one. Not the new one, although it is great, too.) It also reminds me of this place we used to go to in Bullpit, Illinois, which had great hamburgers and chili.
Swabbies signature dish is tacos. Their great fame is justified in every way. (I prefer the beef version.)
The bar and kitchen area is cramped. Most of the action happens outdoors. They set up a little bar outside on the grass. The stage is outdoors too, shaded by 50-foot trees. It's plywood. When you stomp on it, it sounds like a big drum. I used this exciting feature to count off songs.
We played a graduation party for my friend Darren Zinzer. Darren is 35 heads the youth ministry at St. John's Lutheran Church. He plays guitar and sings real good too. We've been playing together in the contemporary worship band at St. John's for five years.
Anyway, he got his degree in psychology and threw himself a party on the river because he has no friends to do it for him. Just kidding! Darren's many pals showed up, especially the St. John's contingent, including the Senior Pastor. Many of them actually brought their children. Çan a rock and roll band survive when its fan base is mostly Lutheran?
The day started with rain, an unusual feature for Sacramento on Memorial Day weekend. I thought the gig might be called off. Kenton was worried. He called no less than five times between 8 a.m. and 11 a.m. But we loaded up the stuff and went out anyway. It was cloudy on the river, but the dirt was dry. Chris told us it wouldn't rain. He was right.
An 80s rock band called Cinema 7 was due to play right after KDOG. This is always a potential problem. We've shared the bill with bands that have been quite hostile to us. Cinema 7s drummer Jeff Hayes showed up a half-hour after we did. We negotiated an agreement to help Jeff set up his enormous PA and use it for our sets to make the transition between band faster. Jeff is a jovial fellow who was grateful for the extra muscle power to help him unload, a job he normally does by himself. Jeff's PA is way bigger and better than ours. Philip the Swiss German Sound Man and Jeff engaged in a lot of technical talk. Philip really liked Jeff's gear. I sensed that Kenton and I will soon be spending more money on electronic items that I do not know how to operate. Or even plug in.
Nick wasn't with us. He's on a long-planned trip to San Diego and Mexico with his son Bobby. Kenton got made when he heard Nick was blowing off our first gig. Kenton gave Nick a big rant about "being committed to the band." Nick countered by pointing out that Kenton took his girlfriend on a Caribbean vacation, leaving us with no drummer for a big benefit gig at Fairytale Town. We didn't have a bass player at the time, either. Nick and I did the gig with my son Brett on drums.
So this meant no harmonica. And we couldn't do a bunch of songs that Nick sings. I did sing Nick's original "Bug Eyed Willie," which is an unusual song to sing to a bunch of Lutherans. Possibly offending phrases include:
• Britches
• Wet
• Love goo.
No Nick meant no harmonica solos. That meant I was going to have to play A LOT OF GUITAR. We were suddenly a power trio. I'm out of shape. We haven't been practicing much. Or playing gigs. I was sloppy as hell. I blew the end of "Bad Little Doggie." Every song featured some kind of guitar flubbage. I think these mistakes are obvious. But the typical person at a bar doesn't notice.
We played well. Especially Kenton. He brought smaller kit this time and played with great focus. No fills during sensitive vocal moments. No forgetting where he was in the song. He also did a great job of reacting to what was going on at the moment.
Kenton has really taken to heart the rock and roll maxim that "your band is only as good as your drummer." We've had a few heart-to-hearts on this subject. Like me, he's had to confront his musical shortcomings and start over with a new attitude. I sum up this attitude thusly: "I kind of suck, but I'm sure gonna make it sound good." This is my wording on the late blues guitarist Hound Dog Taylor, who suggest this for his gravestone: "He couldn't play for shit, but he sure made it sound good."
And we did sound good. I like playing outdoors because we don't have to deal with the bizarre acoustics of the typical bar. We don't sound so loud. Philip The Swiss German Sound man is incredibly picky and he seemed quite happy with the mix out front. Onstage, we never know what the audience is hearing for sure. It's like being in the middle of a battle. You can't tell what's going on amid the noise, smoke and the screams of the wounded. (In our case, the wounded are played by members of the audience who venture too close to the stage and suffer exploding eardrums.)
It was typical show for KDOG. We were background music. The afternoon is not a good time for dancing, although we did get a clutch on people on the dirt patch in front of the stage for "La Grange." Mostly people hung back, chatting, eating tacos and watching the kids. I'm used to entertaining vast expanses of empty chairs and flooring. I did a lot of my usual running around and jumping. Anybody who did look towards the stage should have something to look at. By 9 p.m., I felt like I'd spent two hours on a stair machine. I sort of molded and froze into the contours of the couch. Age.
Drew sang quite well. People love his voice. Kenton and I are singing less and less. This is a good thing. Kenton can't get within two miles of the right note. My voice is too thin and white for our material.
We wrapped up with one of the better versions of "One Way Out" that we've ever done. Then we hustled the gear off stage at 3:30 to make way for Cinema 7. They have a lot of gear. Technical difficulties meant they didn't drop the downbeat until almost 5 p.m. - an hour late. I felt guilty for interfering with their show. They really need to set up at 3 p.m. But they seemed unconcerned. Drew knew one of the female singers and her husband from when they worked together at a local print shop. We had a friendly chat. Jeff Hayes the drummer waved off my apologies. "No worries," he said "Just a few technical glitches. I really appreciate the help." Cinema 7 have been playing together for 20 years in various combinations. I guess they've seen it all by now.
Kenton has gradually scaled down the drums sets he brings to gigs. The size and scope of his drum rigs had become a running joke with our "fans." My friend Steve noted that Cinema 7s drum set was way larger and fancier then Kenton's. He couldn't believe it. "It didn't think that was possible," he said dryly. "Things are changing," I told him.