The other side of the tracks

Once more, into the breach!

Subject - Guitarist: Rock Bottom

Friday, March 17^th – Eddie’s, Granite City, Illinois

Playing at Eddie’s generates a number of different emotional responses for me each and every time I play there. Of course, it’s in Granite City, my home town, which is a convenience, to be sure! But, I must confess, there are two sides to Granite City for me, and Eddie’s does feel like the other side, sometimes.

Part of that goes back to time of the two high schools, Granite North and Granite South. I attended North out on the edge of the city, and we had quite a rivalry with our sister school downtown. I suppose I still carry some of that, despite the combining of the two schools my graduating year, twenty two years ago.

Part of it was growing up in a large, old farm house down the street from Eddie’s, across from the Kirkpatrick Homes housing project. The old farm yielded way years ago to a sprawling neighborhood of low income, depression era homes built to support the blue collar steel workers that worked close by at the mill.

I rarely felt safe growing up there as young boy; an only child surrounded by older, meaner neighbor kids to play with. The menacing, bustling traffic of Nameoki Road right outside the front door was daunting to a young lad like me. My parents were consistently warning me, cautious about letting me play anywhere near it.

Our house was broken into once, and they even stole my best, most cherished beer cans from my beer can collection, the bastards! (Yeah, a 6 year old with a beer can collection: explains a lot!). Once, a neighbor kid threw a rock through our kitchen window, and another time, some ne’er-do-well set the bushes lining our front porch ablaze! Looking back, I grew up with a certain level of fear about the people around my neighborhood, and what someone was going to do to me or my family next, simply out of malice, or a twisted sense of angry humor. I grew distrustful of that side of town. I took solace in late nights with my father, listening to music, and watching him play guitar and sing.

When we moved across town, I was relieved to settle down in a quiet, normal neighborhood, have a normal childhood, and pretty much put the nightmare of living on that side of Granite City behind me. My mother grew up a scant 5 blocks from the house my parents purchased. I met lifelong friends that I’m still in contact with today, and I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else, on this side of Granite. I have roots on this side. When it came time to settle down and buy a home, raise a family, and be the best father and husband I could, I moved merely 6 or 7 houses down the alley. Three generations, all growing up within a quarter mile radius! That’s “small town”, I guess, and one of the nice flexibilities of Granite City. Bigger than most small towns, but still cozy, and comfortable.

Eddie’s does have its good side, I must admit, much like the dichotomy of Granite itself. Eddie’s, to me, right now, is as close to the Granny’s Rocker Edwardsville atmosphere that exists. Yeah, there are tons of differences: lack of 19 year old girls getting wasted and sleeping with strange men; a much larger “mullet factor”, lack of an upstairs balcony, to name a few. But, it’s where we’re seeing good rock n’ roll bands again, and the camaraderie of the area acts coming in, kicking ass, and every one partying and having a great time. That’s I suppose what really made Granny’s special to me, and it’s carrying over here now more than anywhere else. Club 501 to some extent shares this, but Eddie’s really seems to let the late ‘80s/early ‘90s rock band vibe come back to life, and since I’m back in a stage in my life where I’m almost reliving that halcyon period of my life, I take notice in it, and even revel in it.

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the bittersweet absence of my ex-wife when I play shows, namely Eddie’s. Much of putting Knucklehead back together was to share that experience with her, to do what I do best and make her proud of me, and to let her have some fun, get out and be social, and enjoy ourselves together. It was really hard to play without her the first months, into the first year.

Now with Rock Bottom, there are fewer ties, and more distance has grown between us and our failed marriage, which all softens the blow. The longing begins to fade. But every time I set up at Eddie’s, or sometimes look out across the crowd at the tables in back during a set, I expect to see her, like an after image, a ghost, an indelible imprint on my mind. My soul, perhaps. Words fail to express it. Probably because it’s not something I can put into words, nor do I care to. But, I’m not ashamed to share it. Its part of who I am, and I’m all about dealing with exactly who I am. That’s the essence of life, I’ve come to understand.

Didn’t know this was going to turn into a philosophical exercise, did you?! Ah, with my burgeoning sense of Zen understanding, I’m always taking the time to notice how things interact with me, and I with them. That’s when you understand you’re alive.

After grabbing a bite on the run at Jack In The Box, I rolled into the bar to throw up my rig, and prepare. Mentally, I prepare much less than I used to. Not that I had some ritual, or meditation. Nothing of the sort. But there was a small degree of, how should I explain it, “focus” I would go through, mainly to relieve the stress, and make sure I wasn’t forgetting something, etc. I do very little of that now, not consciously. I’m in a nice groove, comfortable with my playing and my role in Rock Bottom, and the boys in the band.

I did manage to run into a number of issues during set up, but none of it phased me, mentally or emotionally. My wireless crapped out completely. Something in the receiver unit. I will have to purchase a new one, which I’ve been meaning to do anyway. A cord will work fine for now.

Soundman Jeff was setting up the stage, and he seemed to be constantly under my feet. I was slightly perturbed by this. He sets up for hours, and the last 30 minutes I finally show up, he’s still slipping in and out, making me dizzy as I turn here and there, finding him beneath me, plugging something in, adjusting that, blah, blah. Get the hell out from under me! He also sets up all the lights and such on Eddie's cramped stage in such a way that I feel cornered, with little room to move. Hey, I like the great light show, but Christ! Can I have some room to move around here? I get to stand directly in front of my mic, and that’s it! No room to move before I’m tripping over a pinspot, or lighting truss.

After getting my rig ready, I popped down to the bar for a bottle of Bud Light. I ran into several old high school friends, some I’ve seen on occasion, a couple I hadn’t seen in 20 years. My buddy Greg D. was an old hockey chum of mine, and he brought out some friends. Lisa P. was there, and I’d run into her a few times at local taverns in town. Boy, she looks great. Greg and I were commenting that she’s our age, turning 40 this year, but we both swear she looks 29 or 30.

“Are you Irish,” Lisa asked me?

“I am tonight!” I quipped. Rather than bore her with a dissertation of my Celtic/Norwegian heritage, I turned the question on to her. “Are you?”

“I’m part Irish. The other half is Italian,” she said. Oh! I should have known! I have a soft spot for Irish/Italians. Something about that mix just always seems to attract me. Where exactly was Lisa when we were together in high school? Oh, yeah, I was that shy guy too afraid to approach a girl so he buried himself into playing guitar. That would explain it! Well, she certainly has blossomed.

Allyson showed up, who’d been absent from our little group of Riverbenders for a while. That’s what you people are up north. We’re Granite Hoosiers. You’re Riverbenders, I guess. I made that up. I’m not sure what to call people from the Alton/Godfrey/East Alton/Wood River/Roxana area. To a certain extent, to me as an outsider, it’s like one big community up there. Anyway, she told a tale of wiping out her car, and we caught up on things. The rest of the boys came in, and before too long, it was show time.

My amp sounded thin, and I wasn’t overly pleased with it. My playing was somewhat frantic, and choppy, and I zoned out on a couple phrases where I forgot the melody. The luck of the Irish wasn’t with me tonight. But, I didn’t mind. It happens. The Friday crowd was really big early on, as everyone had been celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, it would appear.

I saw tons of green across the dance floor, from Shamrock Green derby hats, flashy beads, and festive Bud Light decorations. Hell, even the men’s bathroom was green! They’d recently remodeled it, and just in time for St. Pat’s with a fresh coat of foam green paint! They retiled the floor in green as well.

The crowd’s reaction was very positive all night, and we had a great time. Everyone was getting stinking drunk, it appeared! Between band members last week, we’d passed around CDs of tunes we want to try, and we struggled through a couple tonight with no rehearsal. Works in progress, but we’re making headway. Overall, my body felt stiff, and a bit sore. I'm starting to feel my age, not able to rock out like I used to, really get into the songs physically. Being hemmed in by the light show didn’t help either. Still, I consciously attempted to appear to be doing more than just standing still, like a statue. Just my body wasn’t cooperating very well! No "Angus" imitations tonight!

We celebrated a couple friends' birthdays in the house, and the whole vibe around the stage and the club was relaxed and festive. But, part in parcel with that was the fatigue factor, as many of these revelers had been partying since the afternoon in Soulard. As the night wore on, the crowd slowly thinned, the stragglers dropping off by the wayside after a long day’s drunk.

A friend named Sarah also popped in for a visit as she promised she would at our last 501 gig. It was “return of our Riverbender friends” tonight! We shared a beer on break and caught up with small talk. Geo from Ivory Tiger got off working overtime along with Rick the DJ, and Geo met up with his wife Kat, who had already been there, pounding Jagerbombs with me.

Geo got up to play some with us, and for what ever fucked up reason I tore into “Jessie’s Girl”. I don’t actually know that song, other than screwing around with it along with the video, back in the MTV days. I hear it enough, though. I didn’t think it went that poorly, but Kat later confided in me that it was a complete train wreck, and we were never to attempt it again! Thanks for all your support, Kat! Well, I guess the spirit of St. Pat’s was catching up with me; I must have been getting pretty buzzed. It was a condition that I shared with practically the entire crowd, to be sure!

At the end of the night, Sarah came to me and boldly asked “where are we going? Do you want to get something to eat? Waffle House?”

Wow! My eyes kind of popped out. Cute, young ladies inviting me to the Mecca of early morning dining? I like where this is going! There was no way I would refuse!

She moved up close to me and whispered “my ex boyfriend is over there, and he is trashed, and he won’t leave me alone…” Ah! It’s becoming clearer to me. I’m her wingman! Well, it’s nice to be wanted for something!

We hopped in my SUV and sped off to Waffle House. She explained that she would always stop in Waffle House late nights after working at a joint in Brooklyn. In fact, after we arrived and ordered, the cook recognized her after a time, and came over and talked with us and reminisced. We had a pleasant conversation and breakfast. The cook explained how he could meow like a cat in a ventriloquist fashion, and would drive the more inebriated customers crazy. We laughed, and Sarah confessed she remembered that. “Where’s that damn cat?”

My hash browns covered with everything and eggs over easy were perfect as always, and Sarah ate about half her waffle. Occasionally we’d hear a quiet, mysterious “meow”, and the cook would glance over his shoulder, flashing us a coy smile.

I dropped Sarah back off at her car next to the Eddie’s parking lot. She gave me a firm hug, and with that, my job was done; she was rescued from the pawing clutches of her wasted ex-boyfriend. As she pulled out of her parking space, from the corner of my eye I swore I saw the silhouette of someone passed out against the building laying in front of her vehicle. Startled by her headlights, this mystery figure leapt up and vanished! A stalker? Her inebriated ex? All mysteries to me! I followed her out of Granite to make sure she wasn’t followed, and it appeared she was clear. As her red tail lights sped away, I traveled home, anxiously awaiting crawling into bed, and falling fast asleep.