Floatless Float Trip

Saturday, 27 May 2006
Memorial Day Weekend, for most people it seems, is a three-day weekend to BBQ, drink with friends, open the pool, go on float trips, and just generally play or relax. For most musicians, however, it is a working weekend no different than any other. We load our equipment into a local venue and entertain the masses. At the risk of sounding like I'm whining, trust that I am not. This is not a criticism or complaint, but merely an observation. It's what we do. It's the choice we make when we decide to be working musicians. Rarely do we regret this decision.

For the past 10 years, BenWahBob has been playing Memorial Day Weekend at Bearcat Getaway on the beautiful Black River near Lesterville, Missouri. This was my fourth year playing there, and I must say it is never boring. Last year someone chucked onto the stage at my feet a jar of moonshine with something floating in it that looked like someone's kidneys(-in-the-jar-o). The first two years saw downpours of rain that prevented us from floating on Sunday. Then there's the people-watching...which is always outstanding. Get 1500 hoosiers together in one spot with no limits on how much alcohol they can consume, throw in a live rock band, and you have yourself one serious party. This year was a little different than last year in that there seemed to be better attendance this year. High fuel prices didn't seem to put a damper on plans this time, as it did last year when it was still a new horror. Not only were the campgrounds sold out, but there were quite a few people who drove in to see the band.

But, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself.

The band met up Saturday morning at the usual spot - the Schnuck's market on Butler Hill Road & I-55 in South St. Louis County - before caravanning down to Lesterville. We usually stop in Farmington, as we turn onto Highway W, at Dairy Queen. This has become a point of some contention recently, as the service there has been absolutely deplorable the last few years. When we hit the exit ramp, we noticed immediately that their parking lot was empty. The overhead sign noted that they would be reopening soon. Awww...shucks...really broke my heart. As it turns out, though, someone had the presence of mind to build a McDonald's right across the street. Unfortunately, it seems that they just hired the old DQ employees, as the service there was about the same. Perhaps it's something in the water. They are just a few miles from Doe Run...

We ingested our sustenance, as it were, enjoyed some local people-watching, cracked jokes about the falling-down silhouette guy on the "wet floor" signs, and went on our merry way. We stopped to refuel at the same gas station on Highway 21 in Arcadia as always, but this time no one went inside. Bobby and I went in last year to peruse the boasted 1900 guns in the gun store section - yessir...beer & guns...everything leaves there loaded. They have more guns in that little place than I've seen at some St. Louis area gun shows. It's awe-inspiring and frightening all at the same time.

As we resumed our journey through the Ozark Mountains toward Lesterville, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenery. It is really beautiful country out there ("Mountains come out of the sky / And they stand there"). I also noted that most of the roads have names like "Buck Creek Road." I never once saw one named after a character from classical literature. I'm thinking that is not in the area's mindset. It is an area that is terribly depressed economically. Lest one begins to think that I'm taking ill-mannered shots at the disadvantaged populace, it must be remembered that I was simply entertaining myself while on a three-hour drive. Dawna had opted to forego the trip this year in favor of staying home to get some work done on her farm, so I was alone this time. I was in dire need of mental stimulation. It's not my fault. I'm a victim here. Woe unto me.

We arrived at our destination a little after 14:00 (that's 2pm, for those of you in Rio Linda), and began to unload immediately. Well, almost immediately. Some yahoos had parked in front of the opening in the fence around the stage, so we had to cut a section out of the front fence to back in our vehicles. It didn't seem to take us too long to set up this year, like it seems to most times. Mike Stevenson brings out his monster "festival system" for these gigs (the same one he uses every year for the Sparta Blues Fest, and will be taking to Des Moines for the Cinderella show there), and it takes a little longer to set up than your average club system. He also had some new Radian monitors this year - very nice. I was using the Ampeg SVT6PRO prototype amp from last year, along with my old SVT610HLF prototype cabinet. I was quite pleased with my sound, even with old strings. Carlos brought no less than four amps; three Crate V30 combos, and a V30 head and sealed V212 cabinet. He spread these out across the stage to boost his presence, which allowed him to turn down his overall volume. It was a good idea that worked as planned. We finished with plenty of daylight left, and sat around in lawn chairs enjoying the end of the day. The campgrounds fed us a nice BBQ dinner around 18:00 (it's in our contract - 2 meals for us and crew), and we tuned up one more time just before we started playing around 20:00.

We put out a typical BWB show, complete with every normal faux pas and hiccup. We started out kind of slow, but picked up on the groove after a little while. Dale seemed to make it through that god-awful Georgia Satellites song OK...in spite of my best efforts at pounding my foot to a different tempo right in front of him to throw him off. I was stromping so hard that the stage lights were shaking. But, alas, he was not to be diverted this time. He just gave me that out-of-the-corner-of his-eye look that said, "Fornicate Off!" I'll get him next time.

We always end the night with a barn burning version of Black Sabbath's War Pigs. On this night, though, Dale had seen fit to insert it into the middle of the last set. Whatever. We shrugged at each other and rolled into it nonetheless. Carlos went into his usual mind-somewhere-else solo in the middle of the song, but then just kept going...and going, and going, and... At some point it actually broke down into a semi-funk thing. It had sped up faster and faster, and I was doing some finger-style funk thing in E minor, just barely able to keep up with Bobby's lightning-fast tempo. It was both unorthodox and kind of cool all at the same time. It was definitely unusual. Carlos finally came back in and we wound our way back to the last verse. We don't normally do stuff like that in BWB. That has always been the domain of Knucklehead-type bands. This kind of unpredictability almost caught me off-guard. I must admit...it was a nice departure from the status quo.

I don't really even remember how we ended the night. After War Pigs, I didn't even pay much attention to what we were doing. I do know that we played over about 15 minutes (also a hallmark of Knucklehead). After we played something that we determined was the last song, there were the usual calls for more...that we dutifully ignored, as the people who run the campground like to get the non-campers out as close to midnight as possible so they can shut the gates. One woman in particular was shouting "Moon!" over and over again at the top of her lungs. She apparently got the notion in her head that we were going to play Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon for her, and wasn't leaving until we did. I've seen that look before. Up close. There exists an adequate description of that kind of woman.....complete nutbar. Some of her friends finally succeeded in dragging her away, but she put up a pretty good fight along the way. Alcohol is a dangerous drug.

A rather attractive (and drunk) young lady tried to gain access to the stage during the last set. She called up to me at the side of the stage (which is about 8 feet in off the ground) and asked if she could come up with us for the rest of the night, saying she wanted to hear us from up there. She first tried the blink,blink eye batting method, then resorted to the cross-between-a-sad-puppy-dog-and-naughty-little-girl look while hanging onto the audio snake cable. The whole time she's putting on this show for me, she's flanked by her boyfriend and his buddy who were trying their best to look cool and disinterested in the proceedings. Nice try, honey.

We quickly tore down the equipment. I got my stuff loaded back into my minivan and headed straight for my tent, which I had set up after we finished setting up the stage earlier in the evening. I was not planning on floating on Sunday, opting instead to get home and get some work done over the weekend, and so was planning on leaving early Sunday morning. My brand new air mattress seemed to have lost a bit of its firmness, so I got out the pump and corrected that. I opened my bag to change into something not sweaty and found Dawna's bath robe, which she had snuck in while I was loading my van Saturday morning. She rocks! I buried my face in it and fell fast asleep.

Unfortunately, I awoke about two hours later wondering why I was lying in the ground. Oh, well...tough it out until morning. Not the first time I've slept on the ground. After waking around 07:30 and investigating, I found a 4-5" gaping hole in one of the side seams of the mattress. This was the third one in the last two years that didn't hold air. I'll not buy another of those cheap Ozark Trail pieces of garbage at Wal-Mart again.

After a bit of small talk with those who were also awake early, I left right behind Mike. We didn't even wait for the free breakfast, which really isn't so spectacular to begin with. As I drove, I ate a couple of orange cinnamon rolls Dawna had made for me Saturday before I left home. They were excellent, to say the least. I didn't stop to eat anywhere along the way. I just wanted to get home. I listened to a bunch of different stuff both going there and coming home, mostly the CDs I had recently aquired from LaserCD.com from bands like Hourglass, The Quiet Room, Enchant, and that Circus Maximus album that I can't seem to hear too much. I got back to St. Jacob around 11:00, called Dawna, and promptly took a nap...on my couch, not the ground.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good weekend for me. My flight with Mark Wick to North Carolina Thursday was cancelled because of inclement weather, and even though Dawna didn't go with me, the trip to Lesterville was fairly entertaining. I got to drive through the Ozark Mountains, gawk at a bunch of old Ford tractors (for which I've always had an affinity), play for a rather large crowd, listen to a lot of good progrock bands, and spend a fair amount of time with my lovely girlfriend. For what more could a guy ask?