[ ]I told this story over a decade ago so I guess it's okay to tell it again. I talked to my buddy Doug yesterday and it came up so it's fresh in my mind. This is a band photo for the band Crosswind. Look at them dos, will ya, and that pose...classic. Doug's the one with the moustache...oh, wait...they all have moustaches. He's in the middle, and that's my old buddy Ron, formerly known as Ronald, on the right. The guy next to Ron had a real Afro and Ron was pretty close. Impressive. Kitty was the chick singer, and that term shows no disrespect. Joni Mitchell is a chick singer. Kitty was an excellent singer and she could cover any style as if it were the only one she did. They'd do "Back on the Chain Gang" by the Pretenders and you'd close your eyes and you'd swear it was the record. She actually is still making a career with her voice, in LA no less. I said she was good.
[ ]I don't remember exactly what year it was but it was a long-ass time ago. Doug called me up and said that Ron was going to the beach for two weeks and could I fill-in and I said yes immediately. My only concern was that I spent most of my drumming-time playing to almost anything else besides what was on the radio, which is what they played, and they were damn good at it. I've been in that situation before, where you sit-in with a cover band, and since they play covers of popular music, and probably mostly listen to it too, they can't believe you don't know every drum part to every song on the radio. Luckily I'd at least heard most of the songs a few times, either in the car with someone or in the grocery store or at parties or wherever. Most of it was fairly basic and no problem, but if a song had stops or kicks or whtever I'd have to either learn it, write it out or if there was no time I'd just have to watch the bass player or whomever and follow them. Although I was familiar with most of their set list I still had to "cram" for the Crosswind gig, so I changed from my regular station, WENN, which billed itself as "The black spot on yo' dial" (no kidding), to whatever stations played the hits.
[ ]Ron and I had been friends since we were kids. We went to the same church and our folks were friends so we were always hanging out. We were both into drums, and one year when I was 11 I think our folks got together at Christmas and bought us both the exact same drum kit, from Sears no less, so we both got real kits on the same day. We went to different schools and went off in different directions and I didn't see him much, but I'd hear him play here and there and I was pleased he'd turned out to be such a good drummer. If anything he was a bit stiff, but very accurate. And that hair! Many bands back then would've hired him on the strength of his hair alone.
[ ]Doug recommended me for the gig, and I'm assuming Ron approved, although to this day he's never heard me play since we were kids. Doug and I would go on to play together in several bands but at that point I think we'd only played together one time, when I filled-in for his band Anequasy (I still love that name) when they were between drummers. Actually ScottyMac had decided to move from drums to keys, and they were waiting on whomever it was to play drums. I think we only played one gig but we rehearsed a lot for it. It gave Scott the opportunity to work out the keyboard parts and let the band still rehearse until they got a new drummer. I think I did them a large. I guess Doug figured I could handle the Crosswind gig after that. Their material wasn't any more difficult than Anequasy's. And BTW I bet this is the first time that word has ever been used in the possessive tense. Cool.
[ ]I agreed to sub for Ron for two weeks and he was off to the beach. The gig was at the C-Shell 2 lounge. It was a fer piece from us, about a 25-minute drive. The last ten miles or so was a straight shot on highway 150. It went through mostly open country, with a house with a gigantic lot here and there. We rehearsed at the club, and the first day I drove there I was struck by how long, remote and boring the drive was and how I couldn't wait for it to be over, but that stretch of road would come in handy later, at night on the way to the gig. I got there and set up my drums. We shook hands, talked things over a bit and got to work. We only had two rehearsals, if that many, and I had to learn over two hours' worth of music to get through a night. We decided to warm-up on some songs I knew fairly well, so I looked over the set list they'd proposed for the gig. I don't remember all the songs but I remember Chain Gang, and I think Stop Draggin' My Heart Around and Gypsy. I'd never laid stick to skin playing a single one of those songs but again I'd heard them on the radio enough to know the basic form.
[ ]It was really fun playing songs I'd never played before and nailing them first try. That first day I think they all relaxed after the first couple of songs...at least I could make it from the start to the end of a tune without turning it into a trainwreck or taking the tempo into the stratosphere. I was no Ron Parker, mind you, but I could get it done no problem. We did more than just relax after the first couple of songs...we started to groove. We knocked out around ten songs and there were no major issues I can recall. There were smiles all around, and at least they knew they wouldn't suck for two weeks while Ron was gone. I was sending a message to them like, "Hey, guys...you don't know me but I got your backs."
[ ]I have to say again how much fun it was playing all those radio hits for the very first time. Again there was that thing where everybody assumed that surely I'd played that stuff before, but I hadn't. I didn't tell THEM that of course, but Doug knew. I was a Proghead, and I spent most pf my time playing stuff that had really challenging drum parts, so that theoretically I'd improve. I've always loved playing super-simple too, and really way more that proggy stuff...you know...bros before hos, and groove before chops. I figured life was too short to play to Top-40 when I could put some ELP on the turntable and try to hang on for dear life. And "Pop" has never been a bad word in my book, even though at least 85% of it is garbage...always has been and always will be.
[ ]With Pop music you just have to wait for the diamonds in the rough. They come along once or twice. Of course there are the Beatles, so I can't diss Pop for that reason alone. Of course they were a special case, but there were bands (back in the day) like the Police, Steely Dan, Talking Heads, Roxy Music and quite a few others that managed to please fans, critics and record execs equally, with songs that were accessable to the masses but had enough stuff to please the musicians listening. And the drummers too. We did a lot of that stuff and it was a trip to be able to sit back and relax and enjoy the ride while we were playing the songs. And with all due respect to Pop music, the drum parts were generally less demanding than much of what I was used to playing, so I could throttle-down a bit and enjoy the surroundings a bit more, rather than having to use full-concentration the whole song, knowing there's a 32nd-note lick in 5 against 4, in 13/8 time or whatever. Believe me there's nothing wrong with rocking 2 and 4 all night. It's a gas.
[ ]We took a break. Everything was going well. And then one of those magical musical moments that you live for happened. Kitty handed me a copy of their master song list. The set list they'd done for the gig was again mostly songs that were easiest to learn. She asked me to look it over to see if there was anything on there that wasn't on the temporary set list that I might want to do. I scanned the list for a few seconds, and there it was..."Frozen Love" by Buckingham Nicks. I lit up. "Y'all do this?" I asked. "Yeah..." said Kitty, "but..." "Let's do it!" I cut in. "I know it." 'No, we can't do that one." "Why not?" I asked, although I knew what her answer would be. "That song is complicated" she began. "There's stops and licks and changes. We don't have time to work on it." "But I already know it" I protested.
[ ]I knew what she was saying. That song is basically licks from start to finish. Except for an acoustic breakdown that leads into a massive guitar solo, every line of the verses and choruses has stops, kicks, licks and tricks. It's all syncopated and it changes and the stops and licks are crucial to the song, and if the drummer misses even one it's a guaranteed trainwreck. I totally got where she was coming from, but at the same time it reflected a lack of confidence, and her not willing to even give me a shot at it. I got a bit insulted but I tried not to take it personally because she did have a valid point, but I just wanted to do the damn song. It's an incredible tune and I'd played to it so many times I knew it backward and forward. She didn't know that though.
[ ]We went back and forth a few times and I was getting a tiny bit hot under the collar. She was taking a 'tude with me and was just assuming I couldn't play the song. I'll never forget...she was going on about how important the licks were, and I finally said "Do you play it like the record?" She was a bit taken aback but she replied "Yes." "Okay then" I said. "Let's try it." The other guys chimed in and reluctantly she agreed. Dude started in with the guitar intro and I was smiling. I knew it was going to be good. When the drums and full band come in it's just massive, and it was like that when we did it. I didn't make one mistake, and on that song anyway I knew I wouldn't. The rest of the guys nailed their parts, which made my job easier, but most-importantly the drums were right on the money. There were smiles all-around when we finished.
[ ]It was a trip and pure joy for me to play a song I loved so much and play it with people who could really do it justice, and it was fun for them not to have to drop it from their set list until Ron got back. Speaking of, Ron and I played the exact same licks, kicks and stops, but aside from that we played it TOTALLY differently than each other. On that particular tune, Ron's ultra-precision didn't work so well and his playing sounded really stiff, as opposed to my somewhat-looser approach. That song just flows, and the drumming has to have more of a Legato feel than a Stacatto approach. It didn't go unnoticed by the band, and it was my favorite song to play with them, and there were some good ones on their set list. Whatever reservations Kitty or anyone else may have had about me being able to handle the gig pretty much vanished. It was one of those musical-moments you live for.
[ ]We ran through a few more songs but everybody was relaxed knowing they wouldn't have to worry about me too much. If I sit-in with someone, even cold without a rehearsal, I want them to know I got their backs, and if there's time I'll do my homework until I know the material. In fact I could've snagged several gigs out from under guys I was subbing for but I'd never do that to anyone. It's bad Karma but mainly it's just wrong, and that would come into play later. It's like a guy's wife or girlfriend who might hit on me...it's a total no-no, no matter how fine they may be. It's wrong. It violates my ethics.
So the first night of the gig I prepared to drive twenty minutes to get to the C-Shell 2. I prepared by doing a mental checklist...briefcase...check...water...check...spare sticks...check. Got my wallet, got my keys, got my dick...I'm good to go. Oh, and I rolled about five Js. That long boring highway the last half or so of the trip would come in handy. Highway 150 was mostly dark and desolate with little traffic, and I could smoke a big ol' doob without having to worry too much about being careful. There was plenty of time to get as baked as I wanted, in total solitude, but the first night I only had a few small puffy-wuffies. I was about to be playing a lot of songs that I'd literally never played a time in my life, although I needed to SOUND like I'd played them all a million times. I didn't want to be too fried, and I also didn't want to LOOK too fried, and make them think I was just a stoner who didn't give a shit, because I very much did.
[ ]The first night was just a blast. I don't remember any hiccups at all, or for the rest of the week either. I really had to pay attention and watch for cues on songs I didn't know, but I bullshitted my way through it well-enough that nobody really knew I was playing the tunes cold. Doug and I locked-in and everybody followed suit. It was tight from the first number and it felt pretty natural. Back then I wasn't as concerned with being robotically-perfect with the time as I was getting the groove of the song and the feel and the licks right, and if it sped-up or slowed-down a hair, as long as it wasn't as drastic as your ex's mood-swings or whatever, it wasn't a deal-breaker, at least live. It's called "human." Having said that I don't remember having any glaring tempo issues either. It was an absolute blast.
[]I drove home with a great gig-afterglow and a grin on my face the whole way. We'd pleased the audience and the management and ourselves. Of course they'd already been there and laid the groundwork and proved they were a good band and all, but having me sub didn't hurt matters I don't think. Again I'd heard Ron play these tunes many times, and playing stiffly just doesn't work for every song, at least the ones back then. Stiff is the opposite of groove and flow. I didn't play sloppily at all but I did let things breathe a little more. I had to keep it steady because the C-Shell 2 was basically a dance club, so the tempo couldn't be all over the place. On breaks they'd play Disco and Funk and some Rock tunes that were danceable, and the people were really fun but fickle. They'd get up and dance their asses off on breaks, but if the band didn't groove they'd sit down and pay attention to their dates and their drinks. We kept 'em dancin'.
[ ]The second night started off better then the first. We just powered through these tunes and I couldn't wait to count-off the next one. Luckily the basic drum parts to the tunes had snuck into my head through osmosis, hearing them on the radio. It wasn't Rocket Science (SCIENCE) to learn most of the drum parts, but one missed cue, where either you stop early while the rest of the band keeps playing, or they stop and YOU keep on playing, either way messing up the tune and looking like a total fuckup and everyone in the room knows it, can ruin your day.
[ ]I have to say that over the years I've accepted as many last-minute gigs as I could, where there was no time for a rehearsal and I had to go in cold. It kept me on my toes and made me HAVE to listen to the other guys as opposed to going into my own world of wankage. It sharpened my reaction time if a change took me by surprise or whatever, and it made me a much more reactive drummer anyway. I get zero compliments on my actual drumming but I've been told that I have "big ears" and that I play for the song, and with many musicians (and drummers too) that isn't always the case. It's just how I grew up playing. I'm a song guy. When you're listening to a song it's sometimes hard not to focus mostly on the guy who's playing your instrument, but you have to just relax and take in the whole picture. I get just as much of a boner hearing a cool guitar or a sax part or whatever as hearing cool drum parts.
[ ]Some time on the second or third night I started a thing that came to be known as "Chair Dancing." They had these huge swivel chairs on coasters, with the curved backs and tacked-leather. There was this young lady who'd given me a look and a smile earlier. I'd gone out on break for a breath of fresh air and when I came back in she was smiling at me again. Most of the floorspace of the place was a giant dancefloor. Between where she was sitting and the stage was maybe 75' of clear space. I noticed that the chairs looked a lot like the cars on the classic Tilt-a-Whirl ride, same color and shape. I grabbed the arm of the chair and spun it and sent her sailing and spinning across the floor. She went nuts and immediately asked me to "Do her again," and within about a minute everybody was spinning around and flying across the floor like lunatics, and Chair Dancing was born. The only people who didn't enjoy it were the regular guys who came in and refinished the floor every morning, and had to do a lot of extra work, bless their hearts. For everybody else it was like Six Flags with booze. Luckily there were no injuries and no one got sick. Except for the floor guys.
[ ]Of course every gig story should have a girl, and this one does. Friday night a cute little darlin' took a shine to me. The C-Shell was a typical motel/hotel lounge. On one side was highway 150 and the Sticks, and on the other was the Interstate, so the crowd was a mix of out-of-towners and locals. She was definitely one of the locals. She was super-sweet and just as pretty as she could be, and she was couuunnntreeeee. She had an accent that would probably make people from up north think she was brain-dead, but after I talked to her for a while she was actually very intelligent and funny. She was really cool and we hit it off. Next thing I knew, on the break instead of chair-dancing we were out grubbing in the car. We decided to take it to the next level, but I wasn't crazy about having to drive all the way home and back before morning. She lived with her folks, and she said we couldn't go in or I'd get shot (seriously), but we could park out front. I said hell yeah and off we went.
[ ]We pulled up in front of a little white house that sat way up on a hill, at the top of an unpaved driveway that I'd just as soon not driven up anyway. The yard was huge and sloped, and every ten feet or so they'd terraced the land and made level spots for chicken coups, rabbit hutches, gardens, birdbaths and what-have-you. It fit the definition of the "Sticks" to a T but it was really cool. Without going into great detail, Miss Honeydrip was a winner. She was sweet, horny, fun and funny, and she definitely had the Fire Down Below. Off to the back seat we went. I stayed from around 2am until literally when the rooster started crowing at daybreak. She told me Daddy'd be getting up soon and he was a pretty good shot from the front porch, and it'd be in my best interest to scoot. We'd been twangin' it for hours anyway, and we were in the chatting/cuddling stage by then. Yes, I can cuddle. I didn't relish the idear of trying to drive off with a bullet in my brain, so we made plans to get together in a few days. I kissed her and drove off. Little sister was fun as the Sun, and my car smelled like "country pie" for a week.
[ ]Saturday night was a rip-roarin' party, with chairs flyin' and people dancin' and havin' a big time. I was already looking forward to the next week, but then there was some bad news, at least for me. Ron had gotten word about how good the band sounded and how much fun everybody was having, so he decided to cut his vacation short and scurry back, so that ended up being my last night. I was bummed. I had absolutely no intention of stealing his gig, but apparently that's what he thought might happen. I guess too much time had passed since we were close, and he didn't know I'd never do that to a stranger, much less him, but he came back to protect his turf anyway and I got my walking papers.
[ ]I was really jacked for the next week and that was a huge letdown. I hated Ron felt that way. I was going to really miss playing Frozen Love. That turned from just a great song on the set list to something really special, and every time the guitar intro came in I'd get goosebumps. Losing a week's pay wasn't a big deal although I'd put a lot of energy into it. I was going to miss the C-Shell 2, the reefer-cruise along 150, playing kickass Pop tunes, chair-dancing, and maybe most of all my new friend. She couldn't make it that Saturday but we had plans to get together again, but I was never able to contact her after. I'd have gotten her number when I was with her but I thought I'd be back the next week. Big mistake. ALWAYS get them digits, first thing. You can always lose the number later, but you can't find it if you don't have it. Man I'm brilliant.
[ ]I was bummed for a bit, and I think the guys in the band, and even Kitty, were sad to see me go. They knew I wasn't after Ron's job, and I think they enjoyed having a bit more of a relaxed feel to the tunes, for a week or so anyway. If the drummer is stiff then the rest of the band has to be somewhat stiff too, and if they aren't or they can't be it just makes it stick out more. I know my little honey was upset when she walked in the next week and instead of seeing my face up there she saw a guy with an Afro and a moustache, although he did have great hair, and his gig back safely. The poor floor cleaners probably didn't miss me too much, but I'd made friends with most everybody, and it sucked not to get to do it for another week. It'd have been even more kickass.
[ ]Looking back I mostly remember the fun. I got a bit of a new appreciation for Pop music, and what it took to play it. Chair-Dancing was fun, and it had caught on quicker than the Twist back in the day. I never had stage-fright but I was still new to playing for lots of people, and I got to see what did or didn't make people groove. Sometimes you get a "listening" audience and sometimes a "dancing" one, and it's good to know how to work both. I was happy about locking-in with Doug and was grateful to play with people like Kitty and the boys, who could really play. Getting to play Frozen Love with a live band who could handle it was something I never expected, and is still a high point to this day. Taking-on Kitty was kinda fun too, and in the end I won her over. Well, not in HER end but at the end of the day. Good stuff. Thanks for the gig y'all, and I'll never forget the C-Shell 2. Music is the best.
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