Toothless Wonders & Paganini
I’ve been taking a bit of grief lately over my inability to stay current with these blogs. Frankly, I just haven’t had the time. Sometimes, life gets in the way. Of course, the same problem still exists with my home computer modem. That doesn’t help. I think I’ll just replace the whole thing. I need an upgrade anyway. My day job has been monopolizing most of my time in the past few weeks as well. We held a digital organ seminar last week which brought together about 50 sales and service people from across the US, Canada, and even Jamaica. The preparations were grueling and time-consuming, and the seminar itself very often ran late into the evenings, including a concert at St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Highland, IL where we installed one of our Royal Classic III organs to showcase its sound. I usually got home anywhere from 20:30 to 23:00. As I write this on the first Saturday of March, this is the first day off I’ve had in over two weeks. On the bright side, though, the overtime money is probably going to buy me a new computer with which I will be able to get a DSL connection and avoid the recent dial-up issues, which have slowed the process. However, enough of my whining about this.
Saturday, 25 February 2006
BenWahBob had a gig booked at a place in Wentzville, MO called The Painted Pony Saloon (a friend of Dale’s buddy’s friend’s wife’s neighbor’s dog or something - one of those deals). Images of a roadhouse with dirt floors sprang up from my familiar past. As the gig got closer, we were informed that they were in the process of changing their name to The Crazy Horse Saloon. Uhh...yah, that’s a step in the right direction. Our usual soundman Eddie Christ - former frontman for Alibi - suddenly decided that he didn’t want to run sound anymore and sold off all of his equipment. Nice. So in addition to all that was going on at work, I had to cut out early on Saturday to dig my PA out of the shed, make sure everything still worked, load it, leave early enough to set it up and troubleshoot...shades of Knucklehead all over again (at least with them I knew ahead of time and could try to plan accordingly).
I arrived at the newly dubbed Crazy Horse Saloon around 19:30. Just as I was about to begin loading in equipment, my phone rang. It was Bobby wanting to know how in the hell to get there. He had apparently taken the wrong Wentzville exit from I-70, and was somewhere in the middle of town. I tried to talk him through, but didn’t seem to be having much luck. I’m not all that familiar with that area anyway. He eventually made it as I was mostly finished with the load-in. Carlos strolled in shortly thereafter, and Dale did the LSD thing...rolling in just before we started. I had some initial trouble with the system, but nothing that the correct positioning of some mute buttons couldn’t fix. I had only used this system in its new configuration once with Knucklehead before it was shelved (or, shedded, actually), and had never developed any semblance of familiarity with it. Oh, well...live and learn.
The owner advised Dale that we were also supposed to provide music between the sets. Since the only CDs I had in my van were either obscure progressive rock bands or long-dead Baroque and Classical composers, the possibilities seemed somewhat limited. I connected a portable CD player and popped in Enchant Juggling 9 or Dropping 10. No one seemed to really care, as long as there was something playing. This lasted for the time before we started and the first break. Toward the end of the first break, Dale approached me and asked if we had something more mainstream and up-beat. I responded with an offering of either recent Dream Theater or Nicolo Paganini’s 24 Caprices for solo violin (performed by the late Michael Rabin, no less!). Short of that, he would have to find something else himself. Within mere moments, I was handed a large case of CDs that Bobby had retrieved from his truck. After a quick appraisal of the choices - mostly country music - I grudgingly settled on AC/DC (I know, Deron, I don’t want to hear about it), as this seemed the most likely to satisfy this particular crowd and not send me on a three-state killing spree. Again, no one seemed to really notice or even care. We even tried the latest Journey album with the same apathetic results. I could have just stuck with Enchant.
The sets went off without too much in the way of befuddlement. I honestly don’t remember anything really jumping out as completely awful. There were some odd moments with equipment, though. Carlos had trouble with his guitar sound pretty much all night. I think the combination of dirty AC power and unusual room acoustics played havoc with his amp and his ears. He tweaked with it most of the night, but never really found a satisfying tone. During SRV’s Pride & Joy, my bass amp suddenly stopped making any but the faintest of noises. With just a few songs to go in the last set, it had apparently decided it was done for the night. I don’t recall going too crazy with the bass solos in Born to be Wild, so there should have been plenty of notes left in it. I wiggled cables, twisted knobs, turned it off and on a few times, and even kicked it for good measure...no dice. I quickly resorted to plugging my bass directly into a PA channel, goosed a little through the monitors, and made it through the rest of the night. Naturally, at the end of the night when I plugged back into the amp to give it a listen on a quiet stage, it proceeded to work just fine. Go figure. So, I kicked it again.
I would be completely remiss in meeting the entertainment objective of this blog if I didn’t here mention something about the people who were in attendance at the Crazy Horse Saloon on this particular evening. As I was loading in equipment, I was approached by a fairly affable guy who asked what king of music we play. When I described the BWB credo, he asked if we play any country music. As I answered that we indeed would play some country music, I began immediately searching the ceiling and floor for the connection points for the chicken wire that surely must be in some nearby storage room. While everyone did actually seem friendly, there was still that air about that cast us as obviously not from ‘round them there parts. Besides the two minivans driven there by Carlos and myself, every other vehicle in the parking lot was an American made pickup truck...not a BMW or Lexus to be found for miles, I would guess. There were also several of what would have initially passed as attractive young women...initially, I say, until they flashed you a smile. I’m going to go out on a limb here and surmise that they have a bit of a meth problem in that area. You would find healthier teeth in Appalachia or London than at that bar. Some of the male patrons decided to make a play for some of the BenWahBabes, who were having none of that. They disappeared about midway through the festivities. Another really entertaining creature was a young woman who was obviously the local nutbucket, as everyone gave her a pretty wide berth on the dance floor. She must have summoned her inner whirling dervish, and needed as much room as she could get. The near-psycho look on her face when she did look up was painfully familiar to me. I think I dated one of her relatives.
The load out went pretty quickly with the small system. Even Bobby only used a small drum kit, and was out in about 20 minutes. We were paid and on the road by about 02:00. Sweet. Since I had gotten my prog fix earlier in the night, I opted for the aforementioned Paganini CD for the drive home.
An interesting note about this particular recording is the profound influence it has had on me. I stumbled across it in 1986 at the downtown St. Louis Public Library. My then-wife and I lived but two blocks from there and would frequently walk over to peruse their music selections. I found this one buried in a stack of old vinyl on a cart, took it home, and fell immediately in love with the performance. Such a combination of fire and precision in playing I had never heard before. I recorded it onto a cassette tape and returned the album. I subsequently lost the tape over the many years since then, but not before listening to it so many times that it was burned into my very soul. It had been out of print for many years, but was recently re-released on CD. I found it staring up at me out of a bin at Borders Books & Music, and took it home with me again. When I slid it into my CD player, I was immediately reminded of why this was so good. I was also reminded of the reasons for my recent dive into the murky waters of original music. It was while listening to this recording all those years ago that I heard, amidst the flurry of notes that is typical of Paganini’s compositions, the underlying melodies and progressions of these pieces. They struck me as great foundations for rock music, especially in the progressive genre of which I am so fond. So, this is the recording that planted the seeds 20 years ago for what I am doing now. Although I am basing the current project around the music of Antonio Soler, I am not lost on the Paganini influence. In fact, I made some rough multi-track recordings about 10 years ago that were based on the first eight Paganini Caprices. I have not forgotten them, and fully intend to expound upon them in the future.
Saturday, 25 February 2006
BenWahBob had a gig booked at a place in Wentzville, MO called The Painted Pony Saloon (a friend of Dale’s buddy’s friend’s wife’s neighbor’s dog or something - one of those deals). Images of a roadhouse with dirt floors sprang up from my familiar past. As the gig got closer, we were informed that they were in the process of changing their name to The Crazy Horse Saloon. Uhh...yah, that’s a step in the right direction. Our usual soundman Eddie Christ - former frontman for Alibi - suddenly decided that he didn’t want to run sound anymore and sold off all of his equipment. Nice. So in addition to all that was going on at work, I had to cut out early on Saturday to dig my PA out of the shed, make sure everything still worked, load it, leave early enough to set it up and troubleshoot...shades of Knucklehead all over again (at least with them I knew ahead of time and could try to plan accordingly).
I arrived at the newly dubbed Crazy Horse Saloon around 19:30. Just as I was about to begin loading in equipment, my phone rang. It was Bobby wanting to know how in the hell to get there. He had apparently taken the wrong Wentzville exit from I-70, and was somewhere in the middle of town. I tried to talk him through, but didn’t seem to be having much luck. I’m not all that familiar with that area anyway. He eventually made it as I was mostly finished with the load-in. Carlos strolled in shortly thereafter, and Dale did the LSD thing...rolling in just before we started. I had some initial trouble with the system, but nothing that the correct positioning of some mute buttons couldn’t fix. I had only used this system in its new configuration once with Knucklehead before it was shelved (or, shedded, actually), and had never developed any semblance of familiarity with it. Oh, well...live and learn.
The owner advised Dale that we were also supposed to provide music between the sets. Since the only CDs I had in my van were either obscure progressive rock bands or long-dead Baroque and Classical composers, the possibilities seemed somewhat limited. I connected a portable CD player and popped in Enchant Juggling 9 or Dropping 10. No one seemed to really care, as long as there was something playing. This lasted for the time before we started and the first break. Toward the end of the first break, Dale approached me and asked if we had something more mainstream and up-beat. I responded with an offering of either recent Dream Theater or Nicolo Paganini’s 24 Caprices for solo violin (performed by the late Michael Rabin, no less!). Short of that, he would have to find something else himself. Within mere moments, I was handed a large case of CDs that Bobby had retrieved from his truck. After a quick appraisal of the choices - mostly country music - I grudgingly settled on AC/DC (I know, Deron, I don’t want to hear about it), as this seemed the most likely to satisfy this particular crowd and not send me on a three-state killing spree. Again, no one seemed to really notice or even care. We even tried the latest Journey album with the same apathetic results. I could have just stuck with Enchant.
The sets went off without too much in the way of befuddlement. I honestly don’t remember anything really jumping out as completely awful. There were some odd moments with equipment, though. Carlos had trouble with his guitar sound pretty much all night. I think the combination of dirty AC power and unusual room acoustics played havoc with his amp and his ears. He tweaked with it most of the night, but never really found a satisfying tone. During SRV’s Pride & Joy, my bass amp suddenly stopped making any but the faintest of noises. With just a few songs to go in the last set, it had apparently decided it was done for the night. I don’t recall going too crazy with the bass solos in Born to be Wild, so there should have been plenty of notes left in it. I wiggled cables, twisted knobs, turned it off and on a few times, and even kicked it for good measure...no dice. I quickly resorted to plugging my bass directly into a PA channel, goosed a little through the monitors, and made it through the rest of the night. Naturally, at the end of the night when I plugged back into the amp to give it a listen on a quiet stage, it proceeded to work just fine. Go figure. So, I kicked it again.
I would be completely remiss in meeting the entertainment objective of this blog if I didn’t here mention something about the people who were in attendance at the Crazy Horse Saloon on this particular evening. As I was loading in equipment, I was approached by a fairly affable guy who asked what king of music we play. When I described the BWB credo, he asked if we play any country music. As I answered that we indeed would play some country music, I began immediately searching the ceiling and floor for the connection points for the chicken wire that surely must be in some nearby storage room. While everyone did actually seem friendly, there was still that air about that cast us as obviously not from ‘round them there parts. Besides the two minivans driven there by Carlos and myself, every other vehicle in the parking lot was an American made pickup truck...not a BMW or Lexus to be found for miles, I would guess. There were also several of what would have initially passed as attractive young women...initially, I say, until they flashed you a smile. I’m going to go out on a limb here and surmise that they have a bit of a meth problem in that area. You would find healthier teeth in Appalachia or London than at that bar. Some of the male patrons decided to make a play for some of the BenWahBabes, who were having none of that. They disappeared about midway through the festivities. Another really entertaining creature was a young woman who was obviously the local nutbucket, as everyone gave her a pretty wide berth on the dance floor. She must have summoned her inner whirling dervish, and needed as much room as she could get. The near-psycho look on her face when she did look up was painfully familiar to me. I think I dated one of her relatives.
The load out went pretty quickly with the small system. Even Bobby only used a small drum kit, and was out in about 20 minutes. We were paid and on the road by about 02:00. Sweet. Since I had gotten my prog fix earlier in the night, I opted for the aforementioned Paganini CD for the drive home.
An interesting note about this particular recording is the profound influence it has had on me. I stumbled across it in 1986 at the downtown St. Louis Public Library. My then-wife and I lived but two blocks from there and would frequently walk over to peruse their music selections. I found this one buried in a stack of old vinyl on a cart, took it home, and fell immediately in love with the performance. Such a combination of fire and precision in playing I had never heard before. I recorded it onto a cassette tape and returned the album. I subsequently lost the tape over the many years since then, but not before listening to it so many times that it was burned into my very soul. It had been out of print for many years, but was recently re-released on CD. I found it staring up at me out of a bin at Borders Books & Music, and took it home with me again. When I slid it into my CD player, I was immediately reminded of why this was so good. I was also reminded of the reasons for my recent dive into the murky waters of original music. It was while listening to this recording all those years ago that I heard, amidst the flurry of notes that is typical of Paganini’s compositions, the underlying melodies and progressions of these pieces. They struck me as great foundations for rock music, especially in the progressive genre of which I am so fond. So, this is the recording that planted the seeds 20 years ago for what I am doing now. Although I am basing the current project around the music of Antonio Soler, I am not lost on the Paganini influence. In fact, I made some rough multi-track recordings about 10 years ago that were based on the first eight Paganini Caprices. I have not forgotten them, and fully intend to expound upon them in the future.
posted by Paul J. Smith | 12:05
1 Comments:
Do not diss "The Angus", my friend...
I owe much that I know about rock n roll guitar soloing to him!
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