Thursday, July 27, 2006

Better make that Quaker State...

Checking in with more buffoonery

Subject: Guitarist - Rock Bottom
Dates: I dunno
Venue: 501 Front Street, Alton, IL

Well, kids, it’s been a while since I’ve put pen to paper for your amusement, hasn’t it? Not pen to paper per se, as this is all done through the wonders of modern technology, Microsoft Word, and a spell checker second to none. I never really did write much “manually”, never been my style. Even in the older days I had access to early word processing equipment and would write “on the fly” when I could. I processed one of my first term papers that way, to jaundiced looks from the high school teacher that accepted it. They’d never seen it bound and printed like a tech manual (I used my father’s equipment), and they were suspicious that I’d bought the paper! Once they read it, however, it was undeniably written by yours truly!

At any rate, back to the matter at hand. Just haven’t either had the time nor the inclination to script out what’s transpired the past month or so. Some of it has been mundane, and uneventful. Some of it interesting, and amusing. Some kind of frustrating. But, unfortunately, most of it is gone from my memory, as I live day to day, moment to moment, not seriously dwelling on what transpires, and searching forward to meet whatever comes at me head on.

Honestly, I have to look back at the calendar to see where we’ve played exactly. But I remember some highlights and lowlights of it all, so I’ll run through what I can, and try to make it interesting somehow. I’ll start this session with my adventures as a hired gun. In the very near future I’ll try to put down some thoughts and remembrances of some of our other weekends.

On an “off weekend” back in June when Rock Bottom wasn’t playing, Derrick Howard from Jagertyme (or formerly from Jagertyme, now with Bonehead) gave me a call asking if I was interested in playing a gig at 501 Front Street in Alton. Jagertyme had originally booked it, and they didn’t want to stiff Howard and the boys, I suppose. That sounded like fun, sure! Wasn’t sure who all was playing the gig with Derrick and I, but I’d show up, and we’ll have some fun. I knew Derrick was kicking around a new project called Bonehead, so I half expected to see some fresh faces. Or at least one’s I haven’t seen in a while…

As it turned out it was Jagertyme; Derrick, Rob, and Floyd, with me in Tommy’s spot. Oh, ok. Hmm. Don’t know why Tommy turned it down. Guess he’s playing tonight with Just Mr. Honestly, I don’t know that many of Jager’s usual songs, but I like them, so it would be interesting to try to fake some of them. I was definitely going to walk the edge on this gig.

As it turns out, Jager Tommy showed up anyway, although he motioned like he wasn’t going to stay long. Instead, he was brought up to play at one point on Derrick’s guitar, and then after Tommy and I played together for a while, I handed over my trusty Les Paul to him (which is nearly identical to his, I might note), and the Jagertyme “reunion” was on. Good fun. One last chance to hear these guys play their set, which I always loved to listen to. Much different than ours, really. I kicked back, suck down some beers, and enjoyed the show like I was just another one of the fans.

I became increasingly self conscious of my amp’s tone, as it wasn’t really to my liking, and with the Marshall boys up there, I wanted it to sound good. This was now essentially Jagertyme now with Tommy using my amp! I didn’t want it to sound like ass. Front Street is a tiny space, made even tinier by the office they built on the side of the stage. So, my amp was pretty much right up in everyone’s face. Peeling off their face, honestly.

I did some tweaking, and this and that, but I wasn’t really happy with it. Tommy said he liked it though. Damn, it was loud for that tiny bar. I even had to turn it away from the crowd and across the stage towards Rob. You know it’s loud when Derrick tells you “hey, that’s kind of loud, turn that over here.” He didn’t tell me to turn down, though!

Front Street was filled with familiar Jagertyme faces, and we had a ton of fun. Some songs came out well. Some were borderline abortions (see Limelight,), but we had a blast. Steve Hall made it out too for a time, and that helped us carry some songs through the night. There were shades of Rock Bottom and Knucklehead coming through with our song selection now. It was kind of a festival atmosphere, I suppose.

By the last set, Tommy and Steve had departed, and we mustered around for songs to finish up with. I played my first attempts at Silvertide, and God only knows what else. Don’t tell Steve, but some how I managed to get through Fuel’s Hemorrhage. Derrick carried most of the song on guitar, though. I also had some flashback moments of high school rummaging through John Cougar’s Hurt So Good and R.E.O. Speedwagon’s Ridin’ The Storm Out. GCHS Class of ’84! WOO HOO! All that was missing was Skynard. Wait a tick, we might actually have played Gimmie Three Steps. I can’t remember!

I was all set to run it into Keep Pushin’ as Jagertyme normally does following Riding,The Storm Out, but that was derailed for something a bit more familiar which I've forgotten. Tsk. You know how I love to push the envelope. We did muster some King’s X Over My Head, but that one was a bit ragged. Not Riff Raff quality, I can assure you!

As the night wound down, and the party met last call, I started to go into Jet’s Cold Hard Bitch because I thought that might be a nice kick to the end of the night, but Derrick quickly waved me off. He wanted I Ain’t Comin’ Home, which is Silvertide, I believe, but hell if I know the song. No matter, it’s the same damn chord progression as Romantic’s What I Like About You or John Cougar’s R-O-C-K in the USA. No problem.

But, as Derrick staggered to the microphone to sing, he paused, and his eyes lit up. He began to search around the stage as if he’d lost something.

What the hell?

He began to wave us off, and rummaged across the stage. Rob cocked his head and muttered into the mic “I think he’s going to puke!”

Derrick nodded.

Floyd grabbed an empty pitcher from under his kit and tossed it to Derrick.

Now, most looked on skeptically, and I was kind of thinking “what the hell is he up to?” Sure enough, Derrick spewed in to the pitcher a black, frothy mixture filling it up about one third the way! It was almost pure Jagermeister, I believe! I hadn’t seen him do THAT many shots, but believe me, it looked like 10W40 weight in that foul vessel.

Looks of amusement and intrigue from the crowd rapidly turned to sheer disgust and awe, even some down right nausea! I’m told several onlookers bolted for the door and blew chunks of their own on the sidewalk after Derrick’s finale! I was still awestruck at the amount of Jager he must have purged from himself! It was like changing the oil in my Durango.

Derrick grabbed his second wind, and we tore back into Silvertide to wrap up the night for those that hadn’t made a bee line for the restrooms themselves to vomit. A classic ending for us all. Pretty girls dancing, dudes rocking and pumping their fists while bobbing their heads; pretty much what it’s all about as I gazed out across the gathering surrounding our tiny stage area on the floor. That’s the most vivid, visual recollection I have.

I donated my cut for playing to Derrick because I still owe him for that Marshall cab I’ve been using for all this time. They asked me if I care to do it again tomorrow.

“Sunday?”

“Yeah,” Derrick said, “but we start earlier, and it’s not as much money.”

I agreed, because I wanted to pay Derrick as much as I could. So, I didn’t have to teardown, and basically, I played two shows for free, but Tommy helped me big time on this one. Tomorrow, I’d be on my own.

Sunday was a much more laid back, casual affair. It was Father’s Day, and I’d spent most of the afternoon with my wonderful daughters. But, I meandered to Front Street around 7, hoping I wasn’t too late. We were starting earlier, which meant we’d be done earlier, in theory. But the details weren’t fleshed out to me the night before as Derrick was pretty well hammered. I could be here all damn night.

I arrived to find Derrick there, and Floyd popped in not long after. Rob was the last to arrive. I learned that Rob did his own impersonation of Derrick on the way home, puking his guts up on the highway. Is rock and roll great, or what? Derrick informed me that after the show, he went around the corner to Ten Pin for a while, and then ended up at The Outlaws club until the morning hours. Hardcore! I realize I’m an amateur! Drinking 10 macho mugs at Mac N Mick’s is nothing for these guys!

The sun was still bright outside, which feels odd to start a set. I saw a large tow barge lumber up the Mississippi out the large window across from the stage. There wasn’t any one in the bar to block my view, you could say.

We shuttled through some tunes, and I had to cover more tonight because Tommy wasn’t there to play half the night. So, in all, it was a very informal jam to the handful of people that sauntered in. I was again handing over my cut of the pay to Derrick to cover my expenses in purchasing his old Marshall speaker cabinet that I’d been using for the past two years, so in a sense, I was just jamming for free, there to have a good time.

In between sets, I munched on some good barbeque with the boys that the bar had provided, and Rob and I talked about the old times, and life in general. I’ve known all the Jagerboys for at least 14 or 15 years, so we had memories to rehash, and sentimental thoughts to share. I suppose that was the tone for the evening as Jagertyme was quietly put to bed. Not really with a bang, but more of a whimper, in a sense.