Rock Bios: How Did Bruford Play Like That? Part 2 (WARNING: Drummer-Related Post)

[ ]NOTE: I TRIED TO POST THESE IN REVERSE ORDER BUT FOR SOME REASON IT WON'T DO THAT, SO READ PART 1 BELOW FIRST. HAVE A NICE DAY. [ ]All that superhuman playing still couldn't explain the vibe that just blasted from the drums. It's no secret that many musicians back then (as today I guess) took a little toot before a gig or a session, and Bill was no different. I never played drums on blow but I did try it a time or two back in the day (hated it) but I accounted for that possibility and that's not it. Not that he was or wasn't tooting but either way it wasn't drugs. Lots of guys play high. If anything it fucks-up their playing. [ ]Anyway Bill mentioned casually that he'd had a huge fight with his girlfriend just before he left for the studio. It was bad enough that they broke up after that. He was too humble to mention that it made him play like a man possessed. Well, there you have it. I understand now, after all these years. I'd never have guessed in a million years but I sure do get it. Wow. I don't know too many Bruford fand who'd be too interested in that maybe but my drum-dork boner was off the charts. A fight with the missus...whod'a thunk it? He was letting out all that anger, and it just happened to be exactly when he recorded that part of the song. It's perfect. It comes straight out of the gate already redlined, and Bill (and his girlfriend) is why. He was getting closure on the drums. Unreal. It may sound woo-woo but to me that's the Universe talking to us, and it's recorded to hear again and again, thank God. [ ]Talk about a snapshot in time...with ALL due respect I doubt he'd have played it the same the day before or after. BTW ol' Bill did just fine after that. He met someone soon after and he's still happily married decades alter. Even finally knowing where that X-factor came from doesn't make the drumming any less astonishing, but it explains a lot. Like reading about "'am or cheese" it put a grin on my face and closed another mystery...a big one. Not many people would care, but it's something that's actually bothered me for decades, and I KNEW something was going on during that recording. I'm happy to know it wasn't something like he'd just sold his soul to Satan that afternoon, but I picked up on something every time I heard it, and I'm proud for being able to tune into that, just from a recording. [ ]Speaking of tune, it's really just a frequency deal, although it's more than just the music's frequency...it's also Bill's, AND his mood's. Everything in the Universe is a frequency, on the most basic level. It depends on how sensitive someone is to different frequencies, and frequencies have always been my thing. I'm hooked on sonics. Bill being pissed-off at his girlfriend translated into a one-of-a-kind performance with a mysterious but discernable vibe that translated into the recording and then bounced into me. It came full-circle twice. How about that? I sleep much better knowing all these things. Rock on.

Rock Bios: How Did Bruford Play Like That? Part 1 (WARNING: Drummer-Related Post)

[ ]Like my friend David D. Martin- gimme a Rock bio and I'll watch it or read it. Any music really. I'd watch a doc about the Banana Splits. Heck, I watched a doc about the Archies, and they were a cartoon band. I wish I had a dollar for every Rock bio I've seen. Talk about making a living from the music business. I'll watch a music bio about anybody and their auntie...I don't care who it is. But give me a bio of a band I love and it's like food or something. And when I can find answers to musical questions about this or that recording, even decades later, it's a real treat. [ ]Back when ELP's stunning "Tarkus" album came out, there was a voice at the end of the impromptu Boogie-Woogie tune that was originally just a jam honoring legendary engineer Eddy Offord but was so good they used it on the record, and we didn't know what it said. It was a voice that obviously didn't belong to the band. It sounded maybe like a deep-voiced woman but it was hard to tell. It was a thick, drawl-y and heavy British accent. We thought we could make out the word "cheese" but that was about it. It sounded almost like the call letters and a nickname for a radio station, like maybe it said "W-M-O-Cheese." We didn't know what the hell it said, but you could hear somebody in the band (apparently Carl Palmer) repeat it and they all cracked-up as the song faded out, so it must've been funny. [ ]Maybe 100 years later I read Keith Emerson's brilliant bio "Pictures of an Exhibitionist." He told the story about it and solved an ancient mystery. It turns out that the voice belonged to the cleaning lady who'd tidy-up the studio. Apparently she was a real character. She kept little stashes of booze hidden all around the place which they'd find but didn't care about. I guess it kept her jolly. Often in the studio they'd get rolling on a song and lose track of time and forget to order dinner. The only thing open was a nearby sandwich shop but they were about to close and usually had sold out of most things by closing time. They asked her to ring the shop and see what they had left. She said "They only got 'am or cheese." So THAT'S it! Sometimes I wonder why I get a boner for this kind of stuff but I do. [ ]But I get an even stiffer Woodrow when I learn "secret" drum information, and when it comes to Bill Bruford, maybe the most interesting drummer to ever pick up sticks, it's a case of Elongatus Maximus. Bill was talking about recording "Close to the Edge," to me one of the most amazing pieces of music ever recorded, and for a million reasons, and the drumming (along with every other note from the other guys) is second to none. Since I got my first real kit I've farted along with that album probably a thousand times, hundreds anyway, and I couldn't play it perfectly if you held a gun to my head. Before you shoot...not many people could. [ ]Everything about the album is incredible. Many Yes fans feel it's their best, and I can't disagree. There's nothing else like it, not even close. Again it goes for all the guys but it wouldn't have been the same thing in any way without Bruford. He was talking about the recording process and how the title track was recorded in sections over however many days it was, and spliced into one long song. I knew it was done in sections. The edits are flawless and noise-free. Back then they had to physically cut the 2" tape with a razor blade at a precise spot, not half a mm to either side, and then tape the tape back together. Nowadays they do it automatically by pushing a button. [ ]I could tell it was edited because while the sections flowed perfectly into each other it was obvious that the whole sound had changed, and not just the instrumentation. The whole ambience changed. Although Bruford's snare had that trademark "POONK" sound going throughout the song, there was one spot where it sounded much drier, and it had more of a "POP" than a "POONK" or a "KANK." I thought maybe it was just room acoustics that day or sitars taking up the "ringing" frequencies, or the barometric pressure or biorhythms or the alignment of the planets or whatever, but it was less nebulous than that. [ ]When they recorded "Close" they were still basically a "bar" band, although a successful one, and they still had to schlep their own gear. These days a drummer of Bill's caliber would have half a dozen kits given to him for free by whatever company he endorsed. with a dedicated kit just for the recording, but Bill used his one kit for everything. They were also playing regularly around England during the recording, and Bill would have to break down his kit after every session and set it up in a club somewhere and then do it all over again. To a drum dork that was interesting, but then he went further and said that he'd set up the kit for a session and the heads would be all beat-up from last night's gig, and he didn't change heads. That's why one part sounded different to me. He said that the snare sound was different on every section but I couldn't tell that until I went back and listened to it under the microscope. It was a trip and also nice to know they were human. [ ]But what tripped me out, and I'm talking about completely fucked me up, was Bill's drumming in the intro, after the birds and the "boil" on the Hammond. I can't even describe what it is that makes that drumming so special, even to other drummers, but some of them know anyway. But in layman-drummer terms first and foremost it's frenetic and wild, but frighteningly on the beat. To this day I don't know how he played like that, even knowing it's Bill. He plays 16th-notes between the ride and the snare, which is a considerable jump, especially if you have a row of toms in between, like he did. It's so smooth and perfect it's like that's all he had set up on his kit, but then of course he comes in with the quirky-ass fills that come out of nowhere, because he can. [ ]He'll be playing 16ths on every beat of the measure, which is all the notes you can play, but breaking it up into different patterns that weave around the beat and sometimes give the illusion that it's speeding up or slowing down (because of the amount of notes played), but the tempo stays the same. Bill will be flying along with flurries of 16ths and then out of nowhere do a fill that goes from 16 notes a measure to four or five, and then back into the main rhythm. It's like the song slams on the brakes and does a perfect tumble like a gymnast in a routine, lands perfectly back on its feet, right on the beat. That Bill.

Quote of the Day

"If the Spud fits, wear it." - Devo

Another Quote of the Day (Say WHAT?)

"We hold these truths to be self-uh-evident. All men and women created by...go you...you know the...you know the thing." - Joe Biden

Quote of the Day (Say WHAT?)

"Poor kids are just as bright and just as talented as white kids." - Joe Biden

Quaalude Story #15 or So (rewritten)

[ ]It's been a while since I told this story. I try not to repeat myself too often, but some stories are classics, and it's fun to go back over it all again and keep it fresh in my mind. I talked to an old friend today. Sadly he has cancer and only a few weeks or months to live, but he's in a great headspace, considering. We talked about old times for almost 45 minutes. Marc's a great guy and he was a great friend to me back then. We hung out all the time after the gig, and one night we decided to go to this crazy place called Al's Crossroads. It was named for its geographic location, but judging by the type of place it was, I always wondered if sweet ol' Al had maybe sold his soul to the Devil at the Crossroads. [ ]Marc's sister Eve came to see us that night, and she'd brought a friend. We were playing in the Larry Russo Trio, which was my second professional band, and I say "professional" only because I got paid a salary. I was green as fuck but Larry, like Skip Perry in my first pro band right before Larry, and Marc took me under their wing and taught me so much. I loved Larry and Marc and I was glad to be able to tell Marc how much I appreciated his kindness and education all those years ago, and for getting me laid, twice. That night before we left the Library Lounge he took me aside and said "Eve's friend is interested in you. You could take pot luck, or go with a winner." Eve's friend was cool as shit. I'm not a gamblin' man, with money anyway, and I took the sure thing. [ ]Back then besides private clubs there were only three bars that stayed open all night- another godforsaken place in Green Springs that I can't believe I can't remember the name of but where they snorted huge lines off the toilet tank in the bathroom, Michael's Steakhouse, and Al's. We usually went to Michael's. We knew the owners. They'd come to see us when they could and when we went there we were treated like royalty. They had a steak sandwich, and I guess still do, that would just melt in your mouth. The only thing like it, in the 'Ham anyway, was Ireland's restaurant's steak biscuits. As "food critic" Dennis Washburn used to say back then, when he liked a particular dish, "I MEAN!" The only thing I can figure is there must've been a good band at Al's, not to mention that the story probably would've turned out differently. It was packed but we found a table. I ordered a Heinekin for Eve's friend and myself. I'm sorry but I can't remember her name so far. She had short-ish blond hair, green eyes and she seemed to be as sweet as the day is long, plus she was seriously-hot. Eve was a certified sweetheart and I already knew that, so I figured her friend must be the same, and she was. [ ]We were getting along swimmingly. I hadn't really had a chance to check her out much until then. She was fairly tall, maybe 5-7 or so, and her body was pretty much flawless. She was neither fat nor skinny, but perfect for me. Normally I'm not a fan of short hair; it's never been a deal-breaker or anything, and she wasn't "butch" at all, but she was so pretty and engaging that it started to look really good on her. I was still feeling the wonderful effects of the natural buzz you get from playing music, and I really wasn't interested in getting wasted. A little birdie had told me she liked me anyway, and I wasn't worried about having to get her loaded. But things can change on a dime. [ ]Truth be told I was having a great time and I DID want to party, only not by getting bombed on alcohol. I had some smoke and Sister and I were about to go out to the car and smoke some, or maybe even fire it up in the club, which you could do if it was packed and you were cool about it. Nobody gave a shit back then, and the whole place was a giant cloud of cigarette smoke anyway. Before we left I made a random comment that would change the course of the evening. I said "I wish we had some Quaaludes." It was like something out of a Cheech and Chong movie...somehow a guy in the next booth heard me, and all of the sudden this head popped around the backrest. It belonged to a guy with long hair, a beard and a trucker cap. He said "So...y'all need some QUAAludes?" Timing is everything. "Sure, man" I said. We did the deal right there, and Sister and I took one. I only remember about twenty minutes after that, for a good little stretch of time anyway. I remember Marc and I still being in our monkey suits (tuxedos), talking and laughing with Eve and Girlfriend, but it faded to gray for a bit after that. [ ]For those of you who weren't around during the 'Lude heyday, I kinda feel bad for you, and glad too. Number one they were fun, and they'd fuuuuuuuuck you up, but the tradeoff with Quaaludes was that nearly everybody I know who did them more than once or twice ended up wrecking at least one car while on them. Maybe thet's why they took them off the market. They really did work, and work very well, for their intended purpose, sleep, but when mixed with even a little alcohol it was an entirely different story. Blackouts weren't uncommon. Taken alone, which I usually did, they were fine, and one of the best buzzes on the planet (RIP, Quaaludes). We didn't drink more than two beers I don't think, but then again I can't remember. It's not like you pass out...you still keep doing things, sadly sometimes driving, but you can't remember a damn thing, often for several hours. That's where friends came in. They'd tell you all the crazy shit you did the night before, and many Quaalude stories, even when told about yourself, were told to you by others. It was very interesting but obviously very frightening, and dangerous. [ ]I'll never forget the night I ran up on this gal who'd run her car into a ditch. I was on my way home and I hadn't been drinking, so I stayed with her until a cop drove by, which they did about every twenty minutes. Her car was most definitely in a ditch. The ditch had won but she wasn't ready to give up just yet. Her car was sticking almost straight up into the air at a 90-degree angle, half in the ditch and half above the road. Her engine was smoking and her tires were spinning wildly in mid-air. It was Summer and her window was down. It didn't take long to know she'd taken a Quaalude, and I'd already guessed she had when I first saw her tires spinning. Either the driver had passed out or been hurt and their foot was stuck on the accelerator, or they'd taken Quaaludes. Luckily (sort of) it was the latter. [ ]I looked in the window and saw that she was okay. "How's it goin' tonight?" I asked. "Great" she said. "Why don't you turn off your car and hand me the keys and we'll wait for some help together" I asked. "Thanks," she said, "but I'll be fine. I just need to back outta here." "I don't think that's gonna happen" I replied. "No, I'm fine. I just need to back out." She was so gone that she didn't even know that her car was halfway up in the air and that she was facing straight down, and she couldn't understand why her car wasn't moving. Typical Quaalude story, ha-ha. She wasn't slurring her words much, and she didn't have that smell that eminates from your breath and your whole body when you've been drinking all night. She'd probably had a glass of wine but I knew she'd taken a Quaalude. "Sorry, but it's not happening tonight" I said, and reached in and turned off the car and took her keys. She didn't fight me, and we had a funny conversation until a policeman happened to drive by. No doubt she spent the night in the pokey but at least she was okay. I doubt she even remembered seeing me, but I guarantee I saved her from throwing a rod. She was really revvin' that engine and nearly every drop of oil was probably gone. [ ]Anyway one minute we were at Al's, and the next moment, which was daylight and six hours later, we were standing in Sister's bedroom, taking our clothes off. We both snapped out of our stupor as we had almost finished undressing. We both looked around the room and at each other, with the typical "How the hell did we get HERE?" look on our faces. We stood there for a few seconds, admiring the view. I didn't have a clue how we'd ended up there but I was fine with it. She was the first to speak. "Well...it sure looks like those Quaaludes are an easy ticket to the bedroom." Classic. "I...I don't remember how we got here" she said as she blushed. "It's okay. I don't either" I said. "Umm...well...since we're here and like this, do you think we should continue?" she asked. "We made it this far" I replied. There's no way in hell I could've said no. I'd laid my tux out on the bed, and she carefully picked it up and put it on a hanger and smoothed it out, naked as a Jaybird, and returned to me. It was incredibly hot, but maybe I'm just old-school. Lordy she was fine. We saw each other several times after that and I don't know why we didn't keep seeing esch other. There were no problems whatsoever with her. She was a good one. [ ]Well, that's my Quaalude story again...at least story #15 or so anyway...there's several more. Some classic stories are lost to the Ether, but that's how it goes. The old-timers remember...kinda. I have to thank Quaalude Dude for hooking us up that night, and God for not getting into a car wreck, not to mention regaining consciousness as I was in the middle of undressing next to a beautiful woman, only I didn't know how I'd gotten there and it seems like a dream at first but By George it's real. Luckily we came-to almost naked and about to have a wonderful, wonderful time until that afternoon, and we arrived alive. And boy, did we know we were alive. Thanks a lot, Girlfriend. I'm sorry I can't remember your name at the moment. I hope you're doing amazingly well. Don't do drugs. You might end up with your ass in a ditch. Then again you just might pitch a bitch with a girl who's not a witch. Never know. It's a roll of the dice. Either way, have a nice day.

Bad Band Jokes: "Herbal-Porn"

[ ]From the early days of playing in Generic Band on, I loved to get all geeked-up for gigs. Sometimes I liked to get jaw-grindingly high, and I turned every person in nearly every band I played in on to my habit, and they got hooked too. Was I into blow? Hell no. I hate that shit...always have and always will. Meth? Fuck no. To this day I've never even seen any in person. Speaking of blow, many times people who saw me play were certain I was doing blow, and would always be shocked when I'd turn them down, and anyone who'd turn down free coke really doesn't like it. Kids at frat parties would get offended, because they actually were doing it, and felt snubbed when I declined, as if I were thumbing my nose at the quality of their product. They'd always say "No, man...this stuff is REALLY good." My stock reply every time was "I don't do that shit, and neither should you." With weed of course it was a different story, and not just because I loved weed and hated coke. "Weed" people were much more on my wavelength. "Coke" people usually gave me the heebie-jeebies. [ ]So what was it that made people certain that I was doing drugs, and yeilding the same effects? Herbs, man. Herbs, plus roots, berries, flowers, along with vitamins, minerals, supplements and such. I'd come up with various formulas that could give you energy, boost your immune system, elevate your mood or knock you out cold, and we all took advantage of that stuff. O' and I were in Generic Band and Bud Greene and we were already doing that stuff so the other guys joined-in pretty quickly. They loved it. It really worked. I had a basic plan and a "special occasion" plan. We really got into it a bit more in the Generic days, mainly because we did all this crazy music like Zappa, King Crimson and Devo, plus these insane, intricate original compositions in 13/8 and stuff like that, and it took lots of energy and concentration to pull that stuff off and do it justice, which we did. { ]My formula included nutrition. You're amped-up and ramped-up from playing music anyway, and when you add to that load you should add nutrients and vitamins to support the body when it's in "gig mode." I found the perfect vitamin formula. I think they still make it and I think the name was "Nature-Made," but I do remember it came with a money-back guarantee and it shouted from the package in big letters: "GUARANTEED BURST OF ENERGY!" They really worked too, and I usually only took two at a time. They had a wide range of vitamins and minerals, plus things like wheatgrass and alfalfa, and I thunk even Spirulina, plus some herbs I'm pretty sure, and I could tell a big difference if I was out of them. Drinking lots of water was on the menu too. [ ]The thing we took most often, until it was banned anyway, was an herb called "Ma Huang." Here we pronounce it like "Mah Whahng." There was a brand called "Chi Power" that came in a three-pack of capsules. Along with everything else, two was usually plenty, or occasionally three if it was a special occasion or if we'd played until 3am, packed up our shit and then driven 250 miles that morning, which we did a lot. As to why it was banned (it's now back on the market), the Latin name, Ephedra sinica, might give you a clue. Basically it's herbal speed. I didn't know as much about it as I do now but I knew it rasied your heartbeat, which isn't always a good thing, but our heartrates were elevated anyway, and the difference wasn't but a few BPMs, and not like your heart was beating out of your chest or anything like that. If it had been I wouldn't have taken it, much less put my friends at risk. The Chi Power came in cellophane with a blue label, and I think it was 99 cants. I used to buy it by the box and save another 50%. I kept everything in my "medicine bag," which was one of those familiar and handy purple Crown-Royal bags. [ ]The Ma Huang worked for everybody, as did the mega-vitamin blend. They were fun. In addition to the energy boost there was a boost in mood too. That stuff was fun. That was the standard formula, and was more than enough in terms of effectiveness, but especially in the Generic Band we took some extra things for special occasions. They were a lot more expensive than the vitamins and Chi Power, but they took things to yet another level, and the effects started to resemble those of actual drug use. In fact part of the fun of it was being able to get really high...a fun, "up," let-it-rip buzz that rivaled anything drugs could do, only it was natural, and legal, not to mention about 1/50th of the cost. It wouldn't keep you awake for ten days straight, taking apart and putting back together a toaster, and there wasn't any crash at all, which was really the best part. For one thing it wasn't chemicals, and the vitamins minerals and such replaced depleted ones in the body. As high as we might fly, and most times stay up enjoying the company and whatnot until sunrise, you could always sleep like a baby the next morning. [ ]There was B-12 in the vitamin blend already but for a while we got into B-12 "poppers" as we called them. It was liquid B-12 in the vivid red color like the injectable form, with gel or glycerine or something that made it thicker so it wouldn't drip out of your nose. Speaking of nose, it was meant to be taken in through the nose. It came in tiny plastic tubes that contained a few CCs of liquid. You'd break off the tip and snort it for all you were worth. They were expensive and hard to find sometimes and we wanted to get every molecule out of the tubes, so we snorted those things so hard we'd be leaned all the way up and up on our tiptoes. It's quite possible that some of the kids heard us snorting to high heaven and thought we were doing the real thing. People might not think that a vitamin could get you high, but B-12 is an exception, especially when injected. Ask anyone who's ever gotten a B-12 shot- it's both an enery boost and a serious mood-elevator, and it lasts a long time. It's a serious buzz. Snorting it isn't quite as intense but it's pretty close, as there's lots of blood vessels in the nose and it goes straight to the bloodstream. It's a rush (said Limbaugh). And it's good for you. [ ]Then there was this stuff called Rocket Fuel. It was a brown liquid that came in a dropper bottle. I don't remember what all was in it but it had three kinds of Ginseng. Ginseng has been used for centuries to boost energy and mood, among many other things. It's a blood tonic. It stimulates blood flow and it works with the kiver and kidneys to help purify the blood. It looked and tasted like maybe strong rootbeer or Sassafrass exteact. Sometimes we'd put it in our beer. There was a product called Energy Now. They had different blends with Gotu Kola and stuff, and some had Ma Huang. It worked fine but wasn't as potent. I'd keep those around for when I was running out of the other stuff. [ ]The most savage compound we ever took was "Raw A." One day Randy and I were in a health-food store, checking out the herbal-energy things and hoping to maybe find the next big thing, and boy, did we. I noticed a bottle marked "Raw Adrenal." I thought "WTF" and picked it up. It was actual adrenaline, harvested from the adrenal glands of sheep, after they've been turned into sweaters and lamb chops. It sounded like something out of "Fear and Loathing." We looked at each other and grinned. It was a little pricey but we knew we had to try it. Dang...it was raw alright. I don't think it was quite as strong as human Adrenaline but it was some shit. A true Adreneline buzz is a thing to behold. [ ]I've only had one full-blown Adrenaline buzz, back in high school. My grandmother had just given me her old Plymough Belvedere. It was an awesome car, but the tires were as bald as some white dudes' heads these days. It was raining, and I was headed down a steep hill that bottomed-out and went straight back up. A car came toward me half in my lane and I had to swerve. It was all in slow-motion, literally. I was only going probably 15mph tops, but when the car started to slide it was all over. It slowly approached a 1'-thick concrete post tied with cables, which I thought would stop me, but the car was so heavy it just rolled over it like nothing, pulling two other posts out with it. There was a sheer cliff, a straight drop-off for maybe 15-20' and still steeply downhill below that, and I rolled the Belvey straight down it. [ ]It tumbled about three times and landed with the driver's-side window up. I was unhurt, but then I saw smoke pouring from under the hood. Although I knew it probably wasn't going to blow up, my reptile brain took over, and movie scenes flashed in my head...car goes over cliff...car blows up...and King Adrenaline kicked-in. I put my foot on the steering wheel and climed out the window. I scurried up a hill and a straight-up cliff in about three seconds, in the rain, cliff slick as owl shit, and I'm not joking. When I got to the top my arms and legs were still windmilling, and I litterally shot a foot or two off the ground, just like a cartoon character. It was wild. I stood there breathing through my teeth like a geeked-out psycho, holding my arms out like a monkey and looking down at the poor Belvey, with just a wisp of smoke coming from under the hood. Oh, well...better to be safe than sorry, and at least I can say I know what a true Adrenaline buzz is. I have zero doubt I could've lifted that heavy-ass car if I'd needed to. I was so high that instead of going to a neighbor to call the cops and the parental units, I walked home, a mile or so and uphill, just to come down a peg just to be able to vibrate in the same realm as everyone else, who weren't geeked on Adrenaline. I seriously doubt any pill could do that but I could be wrong, and I never want to find out. That was a heavy experience. [ ]I remember the first time we took that shit on a gig, as usual we figured we'd need to take three times the recommended dose, which with this particular substance, was there for a reason. All I can really remember about that night without taxing my brain too much was feeling like Animal from the Muppets and throwing my head back with my eyes bugging out, and probably having to stop myself from howling through the roof at the Moon, and feeling a bit like the creature that John Hurt turned into in the movie "Altered States." No wonder people thought we did coke. Speaking of Dummy Dust, you could snort enough blow to stop your heart before you could get that high. Give me Mother Nature's recipies any day. We had to laugh at how fun it was, and without the side-effects, or cost, of what I call "stupid drugs." [ ]I can't imagine ever wanting to, or having to pay for, a high like that with drugs. Adrenaline is a natural feel-good chemical, at least for the first few hours. Long-term, like with a methhead or whatever, it's toxic as fuck to the body but that's another story. We even checked our heartrates, elevated some anyway, and they were maybe 7BPMs faster...no big deal considering we were flying. Adrenaline also causes a huge release of endorphins, the body's natural painkillers, since normally Adrenaline signals fight-or-flight and possible pain, and that's an intense high in itself. Every part of your brain and body are working in harmony and at nearly full-bore, and if you tried to ramp it up much more you'd crash and burn. We never took it often, only at selected gigs. I remember one gig in Generic Band at a huge Toga party, where we all got hooted-up on Raw-A, Chi Power, snortable B-12 and of course the Guaranteed-Burst-of-Energy vitamins, and God only knows what else, and I left with an extra-fine "Togaesse," and there was another (from Sylacauga no less) waiting for me back at the Rosser Hotel. Double the herbs and stuff...double the fun? Maybe. [ ]So I said all this to tell the joke. First I have to say...you know what makes a great band? Talent? It helps. A PA system? It's been known to happen. Great songs? Sure. But it's the ability to keep yourselves occupied in a positive way whan you're faced with "Hurry-Up-and-Wait Syndrome." Some bands resort to drugs or alcohol or fighting onstage, but a good band will do things like smoke reefer (reefer is okay) or shoot fireworks or rehearse vocal parts or write songs or make up stupid little skits...whatever it takes to pass the time before the gig without being wasted by the time you hit the stage. O' and I made up a stupid scene from an imaginary Oriental porn movie, based on a couple of the herbal ingredients. "Dong Quai" and "Ma Huang" sound funny to begin with, but we translated them into someone speaking English but with a heavy accent. [ ]"Dong Quai" sounded like "Don't cry," and "Ma Huang," pronounced "Mah-whahng" should be self-explanatory. In our movie there was a beautiful Oriental babe giving some guy a hummer. For the visuals we'd mimic a bj, complete with tongue-in-cheek. She'd be going to town on the guy but for some reason she'd start to cry. The guy would say "Dong Quai...it's just Ma Huang!" Then we'd laugh. It's still funny now. Yes I realize we were sickos, but that's as bad as we ever got. I'm having the most intense feeling of Deja-Vu right now, as if I've typed every word before, peck by peck. It's intense, and I very rarely have Deja-Vu. I don't think I typed this above...maybe in another post...but I don't think so. Weird. Anyway, there's the joke. Orange you glad you stuck around for it? Maybe you had to be there but we thought it was hilarious, and it kept us from having to do drugs. The end.