Killer Gigs...Psych!
Friday, 08 September 2006
Well, well…where to begin?
Oh, I know…how about at the beginning?
Naaa…that would be entirely too long a story, and might encroach on Deron’s domain of epic bookstabbings.
(Bummer about Violet’s neck, Dude.)
There’s really been no news worthy to distribute since the last blog. It’s been a pretty quiet month on that front. BenWahBob was supposed to play in Lesterville, MO, as is tradition, on Labor Day weekend. Unfortunately, we had to cancel that gig, as Carlos was going to be in Vietnam for a couple of weeks for the first production run of one of his amp designs. I can’t say that I’m overwhelmingly disappointed with that outcome. I got to actually spend a three-day holiday weekend at home. Dawna and I had dinner Friday night at a nice Italian restaurant (Bella Milano) in Edwardsville to celebrate our third year back together. We got to sleep in late Saturday morning, then spent the rest of the day at the Japanese Festival at the Missouri Botanical Garden. We even ran into Deron’s mother and children; they were waiting in line in a futile attempt to gain access to the ever-popular Tea Ceremony (I’ve never been able to get a ticket for that either, Vicky). Just shortly after we started walking into the Garden, we also encountered Heather Frost – Deron’s former-step-daughter-now-second-cousin-once-removed…or something like that. She was there strolling around with her new baby. We stopped and talked a bit, and Dawna was holding the baby. I must have given her that “don’t-even-think-about-it” look, because she immediately assured me that that was not in the proverbial cards. I spent much of the rest of the weekend either working on various music projects or hanging out with Dawna at her farm.
The ensuing week seemed to just evaporate before my very eyes (not to be confused with my mildly eyes). A function of getting old, I guess, is the seemingly quickened passage of time. When we’re young, there seems to be no limit on the time we have. It’s endless because we’re immortal. Now, there never seems to be enough time for anything of substance. One of the great twists of life, eh?
Another pipe organ offer made its way to me, too. It was another old Wicks Fuga model from 1937 that a college in western Iowa was looking to unload for “very little money.” Tempting as it was, I resisted the urge to drive a rented truck up there that day, rescue it, and install it in my living room. I have other things on which I should be spending my increasingly limited cash reserves; like replacing my tired old minivan, replacing my tired old dead motorcycle, the acquisition of a Chapman Grand Stick, the replication of my CD when it’s finished, and – oh, yeah – that particular piece of women’s jewelry for which I seem to be in the market. Wow. Now that I’ve spelled it out, I think I need another job.
This weekend was supposed to see BWB playing on the front stage at UMB Pavilion before the Styx/Foreigner concert on Saturday night. Our drummer knows some people there for whom he does some printing jobs, and was able to sweet-talk us into the gig. Very nice. Since Carlos would only just be returning from ‘Nam on Saturday, he arranged for Obeid Khan to fill in for him. I worked with Obeid for the 10 years I was at St. Louis Music. Besides being one of the best tube amp designers in the world, he also happens to be a fantastic guitar player. I was looking forward to the opportunity to play on stage with him.
Circumstance once again had its way with our plans. The details of our compensation for this gig were shrouded in a fog of mystery until just a couple of days before the gig. When they started being more forthcoming with the information, it was beginning to look like an extremely sweet package; more bottled water and beer than we could drink, and more tickets than we could give away. The monetary aspect wasn’t revealed until Friday…and it was a joke. It would essentially cover our gas expenses, strings and sticks, and a healthy appetite at White Castle…and that was it. Bobby was incensed, to say the least. He called one of his buddies at the Pavilion and reminded him of our minimum pay requirements, telling him that they must at least meet that or we wouldn’t waste our time. We never heard back from them.
While Bobby’s position was pretty hard-lined, I had mixed emotions about the whole matter. The money, to me was the least important part of the arrangement. This was about mass exposure on a scale that most cover bands never see. I felt it would have been an excellent foot in the door for future seasons. I can understand Bobby’s principle, though.
I must also admit that my stance is more than a bit self-serving. I was looking forward to networking with the powers-that-be at the Pavilion, making myself known to them for my own personal gain. I have designs on that place (amongst others) for showcasing my original music. Oh, well…I’ll just have to exploit other avenues into there. On the bright side, I get another weekend off to work on the various projects without having to spend all afternoon and evening in the Riverport area. (“Always look on the briiiiiiiight side of life…”)
On the new music front, I acquired the first two CDs from a band from Spain called Adagio. Their guitarist was described by Ken Golden at The Laser’s Edge as being Spain’s answer to Symphony X’s Michael Romeo. I didn’t see it that way once I heard them. This guy was obviously an Yngwie Malmsteen clone, who he admitted in the liner notes as being his biggest influence. The singer even sounds like Jeff Scott Soto. The only real difference is that this guy writes better songs (sorry, Wingnut). For some reason, though, it just didn’t click with me. Perhaps my aging ears are growing tired of the flurry-of-notes style that these guys represent. It’s not that it isn’t impressive, because it is. Maybe it’s just not as impressive anymore now that every kid with a guitar can play like that.
I can’t play like that. Then again, I’m no kid anymore either.
Well, well…where to begin?
Oh, I know…how about at the beginning?
Naaa…that would be entirely too long a story, and might encroach on Deron’s domain of epic bookstabbings.
(Bummer about Violet’s neck, Dude.)
There’s really been no news worthy to distribute since the last blog. It’s been a pretty quiet month on that front. BenWahBob was supposed to play in Lesterville, MO, as is tradition, on Labor Day weekend. Unfortunately, we had to cancel that gig, as Carlos was going to be in Vietnam for a couple of weeks for the first production run of one of his amp designs. I can’t say that I’m overwhelmingly disappointed with that outcome. I got to actually spend a three-day holiday weekend at home. Dawna and I had dinner Friday night at a nice Italian restaurant (Bella Milano) in Edwardsville to celebrate our third year back together. We got to sleep in late Saturday morning, then spent the rest of the day at the Japanese Festival at the Missouri Botanical Garden. We even ran into Deron’s mother and children; they were waiting in line in a futile attempt to gain access to the ever-popular Tea Ceremony (I’ve never been able to get a ticket for that either, Vicky). Just shortly after we started walking into the Garden, we also encountered Heather Frost – Deron’s former-step-daughter-now-second-cousin-once-removed…or something like that. She was there strolling around with her new baby. We stopped and talked a bit, and Dawna was holding the baby. I must have given her that “don’t-even-think-about-it” look, because she immediately assured me that that was not in the proverbial cards. I spent much of the rest of the weekend either working on various music projects or hanging out with Dawna at her farm.
The ensuing week seemed to just evaporate before my very eyes (not to be confused with my mildly eyes). A function of getting old, I guess, is the seemingly quickened passage of time. When we’re young, there seems to be no limit on the time we have. It’s endless because we’re immortal. Now, there never seems to be enough time for anything of substance. One of the great twists of life, eh?
Another pipe organ offer made its way to me, too. It was another old Wicks Fuga model from 1937 that a college in western Iowa was looking to unload for “very little money.” Tempting as it was, I resisted the urge to drive a rented truck up there that day, rescue it, and install it in my living room. I have other things on which I should be spending my increasingly limited cash reserves; like replacing my tired old minivan, replacing my tired old dead motorcycle, the acquisition of a Chapman Grand Stick, the replication of my CD when it’s finished, and – oh, yeah – that particular piece of women’s jewelry for which I seem to be in the market. Wow. Now that I’ve spelled it out, I think I need another job.
This weekend was supposed to see BWB playing on the front stage at UMB Pavilion before the Styx/Foreigner concert on Saturday night. Our drummer knows some people there for whom he does some printing jobs, and was able to sweet-talk us into the gig. Very nice. Since Carlos would only just be returning from ‘Nam on Saturday, he arranged for Obeid Khan to fill in for him. I worked with Obeid for the 10 years I was at St. Louis Music. Besides being one of the best tube amp designers in the world, he also happens to be a fantastic guitar player. I was looking forward to the opportunity to play on stage with him.
Circumstance once again had its way with our plans. The details of our compensation for this gig were shrouded in a fog of mystery until just a couple of days before the gig. When they started being more forthcoming with the information, it was beginning to look like an extremely sweet package; more bottled water and beer than we could drink, and more tickets than we could give away. The monetary aspect wasn’t revealed until Friday…and it was a joke. It would essentially cover our gas expenses, strings and sticks, and a healthy appetite at White Castle…and that was it. Bobby was incensed, to say the least. He called one of his buddies at the Pavilion and reminded him of our minimum pay requirements, telling him that they must at least meet that or we wouldn’t waste our time. We never heard back from them.
While Bobby’s position was pretty hard-lined, I had mixed emotions about the whole matter. The money, to me was the least important part of the arrangement. This was about mass exposure on a scale that most cover bands never see. I felt it would have been an excellent foot in the door for future seasons. I can understand Bobby’s principle, though.
I must also admit that my stance is more than a bit self-serving. I was looking forward to networking with the powers-that-be at the Pavilion, making myself known to them for my own personal gain. I have designs on that place (amongst others) for showcasing my original music. Oh, well…I’ll just have to exploit other avenues into there. On the bright side, I get another weekend off to work on the various projects without having to spend all afternoon and evening in the Riverport area. (“Always look on the briiiiiiiight side of life…”)
On the new music front, I acquired the first two CDs from a band from Spain called Adagio. Their guitarist was described by Ken Golden at The Laser’s Edge as being Spain’s answer to Symphony X’s Michael Romeo. I didn’t see it that way once I heard them. This guy was obviously an Yngwie Malmsteen clone, who he admitted in the liner notes as being his biggest influence. The singer even sounds like Jeff Scott Soto. The only real difference is that this guy writes better songs (sorry, Wingnut). For some reason, though, it just didn’t click with me. Perhaps my aging ears are growing tired of the flurry-of-notes style that these guys represent. It’s not that it isn’t impressive, because it is. Maybe it’s just not as impressive anymore now that every kid with a guitar can play like that.
I can’t play like that. Then again, I’m no kid anymore either.
posted by Paul J. Smith | 22:47
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