There was the case of a band called Viagra Falls, which I totally thought was excellent, but they were starting to get a following and at some point obviously there'd be legal issues. We were taking a break during a Hurlers gig and they were friends with the bass player. They had sort of an ongoing contest and they were actively seeking names. I immediately suggested "The Priopists." Ba-Dop...PSSSSSHHHH!
That's right...no one would get it and it was just a joke anyway. I didn't expect first prize in the name-the-band contest. It made me think about the Viagra commercials that say to seek medical attention if you have an erection that lasts more than four hours. Damn right I'd seek SOME sort of attention, but hopefully the kind who could make good use of it for about four hours, but a four-hour boner is pretty serious. I'd definitely have it looked at. Ha, again, hopefully by someone who might trade the cost of dinner and drinks rather than a $3K medical bill.
The rare condition, and I suppose what also makes it a party pill, is known as Priopism, so I came up with the Priopists. They still did mainly bar gigs which last about four hours, so it was sort of in my mind like a band coming out with a musical boner for the entire gig, but really just a bad pun. Give me a break...I'd just found out two seconds earlier. I'm about dorky enough to call my own band that. I'd do it. When it comes to Priopism it's a real deal, and those guys really have something to hang their hat on. I can picture people coming to see The Priopists. "What the hell kind of name is that?" "Means 'four-hour boner'" "Oh. That's fucked-up." "Yep."
One name I really lobbied for but was rejected so many times it became a punchline, was "The Lesbros." After a while I just did it to be an asshole. "Come on, Leslie..." "Kelly, NO!" I met a nice young lady named Leslie who'd recently moved here from some small town, and she was friends with a friend. She'd show up at Hurlers gigs and I noticed she'd be standing against the wall somewhere in the middle of the bar looking at me and smiling. I knew nothing about her and I was involved at the time, but I was wondering what her story was, like maybe she had a "daddy" deal. Turns out she was scoping the local drummers to find one she liked to help her with some songs she wanted to record. She picked me.
I wasn't too let down that she wasn't hot for me because that was a much bigger honor anyway. It's another plus about simple drumming, which I was doing then in the band she saw me with. I always said she was way beyond her years in her music and especially her lyrics. The fact that she cared enough to go hear drummers for herself rather than just go by word of mouth speaks volumes about her. After about the third time she came in and smiled at me I finally found out I'd passed a test I didn't even know I was taking, and I got to know a little about her. She'd been dating women exclusively but she'd changed her tune and decided she liked men.
She ended up picking two bands, us and the Sea Monkeys. They had a drummer too but he played guitar and sang and I did all the percussion on the record. We had a blast and we were all good friends anyway, just like brothers, and since she liked girls, at least up until then, I thought The Lesbros would be perfect, but she wouldn't go for it. It was a play on the crude nickname for girls who like girls of course but also her name and we being like brothers. I'd never have done it to be mean or anything and it always made her laugh. She was cool about everything and a good sport about it, but she rejected me every time. We ended up being "The Golden Mile" (ho-hum, and don't get me started on the jokes) on the CD and "Mary Jo's Daughter" (better) live. She ended up getting married and starting a family and moving out West to tame Seattle. "The Lesbros" would've put us on the map. She might still be here.
A few of my names did get used. The first one was "Generic Band," or "Band" for short, which was also the first band I started. It was not long after cheaper, "generic" products came out. It was the same basic product but to save money, instead of fancy labels the cans would have a plain white label with black writing that just said GREEN BEANS or whatever. No Jolly Green Giant, no Four-color Keebler Elf, no melting pat o' butter dripping off of a glistening, steaming corn cob...just CORN. Since we played everything from A to Z, literally from the Allmans to Zappa, and I wanted a neutral name that was sorta strange and goofy too. I was in the store one day and I picked up a generic can of BEANS. It became "BAND" in my mind and that was it. Since there was already a "The Band" we became Generic Band.
Our first gig had been massive, and when some of our friends and their folks decided to have a combined street party and heard our name, they decided to have a generic-themed party. Everything was done up in black and white, right down to the black caviar on white sour cream in white new potatoes. They were well-off and spent enough on that party to equal the GNP of a small country. Everything from the food to the liquor and whatever else was strictly top-shelf but it all looked like cheap stuff. They'd take a bottle of Stoli and paste over a plain white label printed with "VODKA" or whatever.
It was awesome and a great way to introduce ourselves to a huge amount of people of all ages. We'd play Grateful Dead and all this wild stuff like King Crimson and Devo and all for the kids but then we'd turn around and play an old Jazz thing called "Take Five" or the "Charlie Brown Theme" and a few other "age-neutral" things so the older people would go nuts too. It was cool. "Generic Band" was just an okay name I guess but I worked at the time. Great fucking party that was. Outstanding band.
The next band I remember naming was "The James Clayton Experience." It still makes me laugh. What was beautiful about it was that I could do it in the first place, and I had the power to make it happen. It came completely out of the blue and forced me to react instantly; not to mention there was no one named James Clayton in the band. I love a challenge. I've said that I've gone to great lengths to prank my friends and I pranked the fuck out of James.
The crazy restaurant where I worked forever was in a little town called Crestline Village, and they were having their first annual CrestFest or whatever it was. Being that I was the resident music guy the committee people asked me if I could get a band and I said sure. I knew what they were really asking was "Can you get a band to play for free?" It was fine though. I'd have done it for free anyway but I knew some guys wouldn't. The money was going to a good cause that was local anyway, so I snagged a couple of guys I was already playing with and a couple more who didn't mind playing for free.
The idea took off and a couple weeks before it happened they decided to give it a big push, and they ran ads in the newspaper and local magazines, plus radio and even TV spots. I hadn't bothered to come up with a name for a band that was only going to play one gig, but the next day someone from one of the magazines called to ask what the name of the "band" was. The stars aligned and I saw a chance to seriously fuck with James. I was trying as hard as I could to not lose it laughing, and I said "Ummm...The James Clayton Experience." "Okay, thanks." "No problem."
I got off the phone and just died laughing. The band-naming gods had smiled on me. Plus it was a complete spur-of-the-moment prank. I had no idea the band had a name and next thing I knew, I realized that I'd handled a golden opportunity properly, and even though it hadn't happened yet I knew it was really going to be belligerent, and that I'd savor the experience for years to come. How often does an opportunity for a brilliant prank present itself, but with only about three seconds to realize it and make it happen? We all still appreciate it, and in reality it was a tribute to James too. I'd never have named a band after an asshole.
I'd known James for several years before we started forming our first bands and playing at parties and such. He was a great guy to hang out with because he was hilarious and a nice person in general and he could have fun without getting drunk or high, and I respected that. Playing in bands was perfect for him and he made a great front man. He was tall and good-looking with the long hair and all. Girls went crazy for him, and in the long run that translates into dollars. He played in some bands here that made crazy-good money and he had a whole lot to do with that. Playing in one of James' bands would pay the bills. He took advantage of his advantages to a certain extent and I really couldn't blame him but it gave lots of people the impression that he was way more into himself than he really was.
That thing just added another layer to the prank that hadn't even kicked in yet. It was like lighting a very long fuse and then walking away. I knew I wouldn't be there to directly see the results but it didn't matter. I knew I'd hear plenty about it later, and it's really about the journey anyway and not so much the destination. I was thrilled to hear the girl who called to ask the band's name telling me how much they were going to promote it. I thought maybe it was for posters and maybe for a local rag or two, but she said it was going to be in the main paper and on the radio and TV. I couldn't wait to tell the other guys our name. They all loved James too and they knew about his reputation as a tad egotistical so it was hilarious.
It worked on so many levels. Tons of people were going to find about it for one thing. Rarely does an inside-joke get immortalized. It was like someone naming a band after themselves, only they weren't in it. The way he found out was great. James' dad lived here in town and said he thought he was hearing things when he heard something about the "James Clayton Experience" on the radio. He thought he'd imagined it until he saw it in the paper. James was living in Tuscaloosa at the time. He was playing there that night and his dad knew his schedule, but he called him anyway to find out what the deal was. James knew instantly he'd been gotten and he knew who did it. He took it like a champ though.
A week or two later he called me up. "Hello?" "Hi, asshole. Love the name of y'all's new band. Maybe we could open up for you guys some time." I cracked up while he continued to give me the business. "You know this is no laughing matter, right?" he said jokingly. He knew he'd been had, and good. "Right!" I howled. 'Did they spell it right?" I asked and laughed some more. "Yeah, that's what my DAD said." I couldn't talk for laughing. "You know I owe you one big-time, right?" "Uh-hu-hu-huh" I laughed. "Okay. Just so you know. See you Saturday." "Okay, JC. 'Bye now! The t-shirts will be in next week." "Asshole" he said and hung up. If there's such a thing as "Prank Karma" then I should be looking over my shoulder James' way for the rest of my life. That kind of thing is why you learn to play music in the first place.
Next up was the X-Cops. My buddy Doug played in that band and would also play in Bud Greene. He told me an hilarious story about once when he and our buddy Bruce were going somewhere in the car. A couple of redneck girls in the next car rolled down the window and tried to get them to go have a drink. "Y'all wan' party?" I'm assuming they got a noncommittal look in return, because they went on: "We ain't gon' bite chee! We jus' wan' party!" Finally, as if to somehow mean that they must be okay, one gal said "My ex-husband's a cop!" I cracked up when I heard that and we were going back and forth imitating them and embellishing on the gals' story along the way. Finally I settled on "My husband's a ex-cop." Ding-ding...band name.
Of course I changed it to "X-Cops" for more impact and to make it more contemporary and its own thing, and frankly as a nod to a certain "party favor" going around that was nicknamed after a certain letter of the alphabet. And also maybe not to potentially piss-off any cops. I was already mentally forming a band just to go along with the name; I liked it so much. I couldn't have dreamed what happened. Bert Cotton, a unique individual and a truly-gifted monster guitarist, who'd been in Generic Band, and Victor Atkins, an up-and-coming Jazz cat from Selma whom he'd buddied-up with, were taking a year off from Berklee music school in Boston. I ran into Bert at a club somewhere. I had no idea he was even in town, much less that he was going to be here for a year. He told me a little about Vic and he sounded like the shit. I asked him what they were up to 'cause I figured surely something big, but to my amazement he said they didn't have anything gong on. I'll never forget...I stuck my hand out and said "Y'all are now in a band, and it's called 'X-Cops.'" He said why not and the rest is history.
The beauty of that band was that we knew the future of it already...it would be one year and one year only. Actually there were some big reunions and even whispers of one today, but at the time it was great because it took away all the uncertain shit that comes with most bands- the petty bullshit, egos, seeing a good band go to shit, which is heartbreaking, and all the rest of it. We knew we had a year to just say "Fuck it" and go full-throttle, which we did. We all had reputations in town by then and we didn't have to warm up along the way and we came out smokin'. We were a "fan's band" and a "musician's band" at the same time and that's somewhat rare. I'll never forget one review in a local rag by a guy who normally tore local bands a new asshole but couldn't find anything bad to say about the Cops. He said "Musicians flock to see them like 'ants to a picnic.'" Well-said, bro.
The X-Cops was fun as fuck, and it took on a life of its own. Those two guys are pretty famous now (Google 'em, Dylan), and I know they look back with love on the X-Cops. Over the following years we played several reunions when they were in town for the holidays, and interestingly most were at the legendary Mauby's Christmas parties. That's the crazy restaurant I worked in forever. My good friend from high school, "Skinny" Kenny has been a DJ at a local Jazz station forever. We recorded one of the shows at Mauby's and he played it for years on the station, and may still for all I know.
Bert and Vic were the true Jazz cats while Doug and I were more the Funk/Rock guys. I was the odd man out as I was playing way too "Rock," but I think which in the long run added way more energy and set the band apart. I hope so anyway, but I was definitely the weak link in some ways. Even though the band only played for a year besides the reunions, the legacy continues. By far though the best thing about the X-Cops was that we didn't give a shit about money- we did it purely out of love for the music itself. We knew we'd make some decent money here and there but it didn't matter. Even with a name a band usually has to tour for a year or so before they start making serious cash, so there was no point in thinking about money anyway. The freedom, along with a pure love of music that came with that was worth more than gold, to me anyway. That was a fun band.
I almost forgot about Party Hats. How could I forget Party Hats? I named that band after a favorite part of the female anatomy that just happens to come in pairs, and is activated by changes in temperature. That was a great band with a weird situation. Everyone in that band could really play and we had this whizkid guitar player and a girl who played electronic keyboards and sang. We learned all these amazing songs including "Blockhead" by Devo, but we never played a gig. To be honest my asshole ass had a lot to do with that band never doing anything, but alls I can say in my defense is that the old adage about never dating a bandmate is true 99% of the time.
We had a big party scheduled at the restaurant but then I got loaded and started chatting-up some chick and Becky got mad and split and the other guys got pissed at me when I said "Fuck it" and left with the chick, so they left my drums out on the sidewalk. Good times. If the guitar player is dating the singer or whatever, it's likely to fuck-up their relationship, the band and probably both. If you gotta fuck 'em...fire 'em first. Just kidding, but just say "no."
That was a great "logo" name. I made the logo using thick, black Letraset press-on letters in all caps for PARTY HATS. For the As I drew triangles with thin lines and hand-colored each one to look like a party hat- polka dots, stripes, etc. it was a badass logo. I've never worked so hard learning songs in a band without ever playing a gig. Becky was an amazing singer so we could do "Dog and Butterfly" by Heart, and then turn around and do "1999" or "Blockhead." That band would've flipped some people out, for a cover band anyway. Doug was in that band as well and we practiced at his house. The practices would usually turn into parties, and there was this amazing drama going on that Hardy, the other guitar player, conjured up about me and his girlfriend Beth.
They'd just opened up a Friday's nearby and Doug and I would go have a late dinner after practice. Beth worked there but she was never there when we were. I really wish I'd gotten to meet her just to see what all the fuss was about but I never even sawr her. She was obviously cheating on him but not with me. Hardy was convinced otherwise however, and the last half of every practice ended up with the same ol' song and dance. "Did you see Beth?" "No, Hardy. She wasn't working." "Okay" he'd say, '"but if you did see her you'd tell me, right?" "Yes, Hardy. I'm not going to screw around with your girlfriend or anyone else's." "Okay, I believe you. But you'd tell me, right?" The funny thing was he had the hots for Beck even though he was dating Beth, and Beck had the hots for me, and frankly I for her too except that I didn't trust her, so it was band drama extraordinaire. Plus the young guitar player had the hots for Becky too, so it was just this clusterfuck of raging hormones and unrequited love. Damn, that would make a good short story.
I finally gave up and told him yes, I met her and fucked her senseless. I was kidding of course but he wasn't believing me anyway, so I figured I'd go the other route and see if I could end it then and there, but he went ballistic. He stormed out of rehearsal, which he started doing regularly, but then he'd always pretend to leave and drive up the block and sneak back in; presumably to see if he could overhear any conversations about Beth. I caught him one night and asked him what was up and he said he was looking for his "notebook," which none of us were aware he had. There was no notebook but it made for good song material.
I wrote at least two songs about it. One was called "She Might be Your Girlfriend." It was pretty brutal but it was hilarious. At least we got some funny songs out of the deal and I really can't take all the blame for the band never taking off. That shit gets old eventually and it's very counterproductive. Such is life. A jealous idiot can totally fuck-up a good band too, so I guess you don't even have to be dating another member of the band. I guess it means just leave everyone related to the band in any way out- girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, moms, dads, whatever. Just don't do it. To this day he probably still believes I fucked her. What a trip.
Finally there was ol' Bud Greene. There was a band called $1.07 Band. The aforementioned James Clayton was in it along with O', Greg and out friends Joe and Eric. Everybody except O' and Greg left to make a shitload of money in the Grounders, so I joined along with Chris Luster on bass. It was still called Dollar-Seven for the first few gigs but we were looking for a new name. I still had a photo actually of the day I named the band but I lost a lot of stuff recently. It showed three rather forlorn-looking guys sitting at the bar at Forrester's in Oxford, MS. It was a Sunday morning around 11 and we were about to head home, but we were waiting on some weed. This is amazing.
It was the first time I'd played there but O' and Greg played there several times in $1.07. They'd told me how great Oxford was so many times that I didn't think it possible, but when I experienced it for myself it exceeded my wildest dreams. Bill, the owner, was out of weed, which would turn out to be one of only about two times he was ever out in all the times we played there, but back then in late Summer there'd be a "drought" in weed as farmers waited for the next crop. Usually when that happened if you could find any at all it was mostly mediocre. One of the bartenders though had promised us he could get us the strongest weed we'd ever smoked, which at the time turned out to be true, if we could wait a bit. It was expensive but worth it if it was as good as he said.
Back then supposedly the only place in the US that grew weed for "research" was right there in Oxford. One of the first things we did the first day we hit town was drive by the weed farm. They had 11' fences topped with electric wire and you could see the tops of some of the plants above that. It was gnarly. It was called G-87, which stood for "government" and I think the year it came out. For "some reason" it was bred to have a very high THC content and at the time it was the strongest ever bred, with around 22% THC. It was unlike anything anyone had ever smoked back then. Anyway we were sitting there weedless and pitiful. It was so funny I had to take a photo of the other guys.
Finally dude showed up with a grin on his face and pulled out a sack of weed. We could smell it before he opened the bag. "What the hell is that?" we asked, and the guy said it was G-87. "G-87? What..HOW...you...G-87?" "Yep." "How the fuck did you get it?" I figured he knew someone who worked there but the story was much better than that. Occasionally some of them would get together and go "bud fishing." They'd get fishing poles with the tri-hook deals and cast their line over the fence over and over until they snagged bud or the cops drove by. He said it'd take a dozen or so tries to come back with something on the line, and he said that the fence was powerful enough to give them all a little shock even through the nylon line if it touched the wires. That's nuts but it worked, and they'd hang out until they had about a QP or so and then split. They'd dry it and they'd have the finest product on the planet, for free. We bought the shit out of all he had.
Before we left town we went back to the room to toke-up and pack-up and we were discussing the name thing. We were so stoned that we almost forgot where we were. I was still cracking up about "Bud fishing." At the restaurant we had code for different weed. "Brickweed," "Reg" or "Commersh" (commercial); in other words mediocre weed was "Downtown Freddie Brown" and the good shit we called "Bud Green," so I said "How 'bout 'Bud Green?'" and we all lost it laughing. Although as time went on I'd be surprised by how many people didn't get the name and would ask "Which one's Bud?" which of course became a band joke (BTW, it was Doug), but the guys got it immediately. By the amount of laughter we knew we didn't have to vote on it.
So Dollar-Seven begat Bud Greene. We added an "E" on the end of Greene, just to make it legal, as it were. The name caused much levity and won us some fans on its own. One dude who got the name big-time was a big ol', good ol' boy in some little town in Alabama. He came to see us for the first time and saw the sign outside the club with our name on it. He goes "Haw-haw...Bud Greene...haw-haw. Why din'ja just name it 'Big Ol' Hit o' Acid,' haw-haw." Classic.
I guess that's it, except for the thousand or so bands I started in my head, with names of course. If I ever get my strength back and whatnot and start another band I can name, it's going to probably be either "T. Ruth" or "lol." I like lol because I just don't give a fuck any more, but it's always subject to change. I still really wish we'd used "The Lesbros." It had style. It would've been amazing. Oh, well. Rock on.
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