Double Down

Subject Guitarist: Rock Bottom
Saturday, July 14th, 2007
Venue: Eddie's, Granite City, Illinois


Now, mother was planning on hitting “The Boat” this evening, as she loves to play blackjack. She’s pretty good, too. She can hold her own. Not a card counter or anything, but she knows how to play.

Well, my cousin backed out at the last minute, and knowing how disappointed mom would be, I told her I’ll take her. What a way to bond with my mother: the casino! We didn’t have much time before my show, but that will probably be a good thing! Harder to lose too much money that way!

Now, I’m not a big blackjack player, as many of you know. I’m a poker guy. They deal me king/ten, and I’m thinking “fold!” Switching gears to blackjack kind of plays with my head. But, it is fun. When you win, anyway.

We hit the Casino Queen, looking for a $5 table. No such luck on a Saturday night. The three or four available were crammed full. No time to wait for two spots to clear. So, we settled in at the $10, and hoped it wouldn’t be TOO short a night!

After 15, 20 minutes or so, I was up about $125 from the $100 I bought in on. This game is easy! The only thing I was having trouble with was getting a drink. “Where’s my waitress?” Mom was hitting cards too, and we were all smiles. I’d start at the $10 minimum, then as I’d win, I’d press. $15. $20. I’d cap about $25. Maybe a $30.

Well, as any of you who play blackjack know, that doesn’t last for long. The “shoe” turned cold, and before long, I was down all their money I’d won, and stuck for all most the $100 I’d bought in for. I fumbled with few remaining chips, and contemplated moving to the craps table to try to win it back along with the $100 I had in my pocket.

Mom was still going pretty good, though. I’d take hits on a 12 or 13 with the dealer showing a 7 or 8, bust out, then mom would take the next card, and it was the perfect card to make her hand. “Woo hoo!” she’d exclaim. There you go, ma! You owe me a beer! She was all smiles, yucking it up with the dealers. You can tell she knows her way around a blackjack table.

My fortunes just wouldn’t seem to change. I’d double down, hit a 20, and the dealer would pull a 21 on five cards with a 3 showing. Sick! I thought my poker luck was bad!

I decided against moving as I lost my last chip, because $100 isn’t enough roll to do much at craps, and I wanted to spend the evening with mom. I reached in my pocket and bought back in for another $100. “Hell,” I told mom. “I’ll make that playing guitar and drinking beer this weekend.” Still, playing guitar for free didn’t sit too well with me. I was tired of taking the hits for the team. I wanted to win some money back!

I bottomed out at about $65, then the deck changed, and I started to win. Hand after hand, I was getting lucky. Some double downs, some black jacks. I was pulling even. And then, just like that, with a good run of hands that I was pressing with, I was ahead again. I love this game!

The clock was winding down to where I had to leave, or else Steve would beat me to the club. It never looks good when Steve beats you to the club! I could see out the window of the Queen across the Mississippi River at the picturesque St. Louis skyline, and the sun setting behind it. I looked at mom as they shuffled again and said “after we finish his shoe?” She nodded.

“Ok, we’ll go”, she said. “Come on dealer!” My mother is not an animated person. That is, until you’ve seen her play blackjack!

It was a profitable shoe. Mom and I kept hitting, and the Casino Queen kept paying. Oh, and I even got a couple beers from the new waitress walking around. Life is good!

As they began to shuffle again after the last hand of the shoe, I stood up, stacking my red $5 chips and green $25 ones. Quite a stack! I pushed them over to the dealer and she counted them up. Mom had a pretty impressive stack as well.

“$500,” the dealer said. I almost fainted! The dealer handed me 5 black chips. Wow! Mom had about $450, but she didn’t buy in for the extra $100, so she actually profited more than I did. Looks like we picked the right time to get off the boat! Before we could give it back.

Back at Eddie’s, we knew we might see some competition for our usual crowd, but also should see a spike in attendance late. The massive Biker Rodeo was taking place out at Doit’s Village Inn, and that always draws a good crowd. Our buddies The Alley were playing at Club 111 in Pontoon Beach for their grand opening, so we might see a drop off there, too. And, eventually, I’m sure people will stop by late for us.

In all, it was a rocking crowd as usual at Eddie’s. I was pretty much lost in Becca’s arms when I wasn’t playing on stage. All our friends made it out, and, as always, we had quite a party. Starting to sound like a broken record at Eddie’s!

I rubbed everyone’s noses in the fact I won $500 at the boat, and bought some drinks. What a weekend! It should always be this good! I even mentioned over the mike that I made more in 2 hours at the boat than I made all weekend playing here. Felt good to brag!

Our play got a little sloppy towards the end of the night. A good late crowd showed up as I’d predicted many of them in biker colors. Biker’s love our kind of 80’s hair metal. There were definitely more people here tonight than last night, but they were more reserved. We hadn’t quite reached them like we usually do.

“Hey!” Boozie shouted to me over the drumkit at the start of the third set. “Gotta buddy. Wants to sit in. Do Kryptonite!”

“Ok,” I said. I work that in somehow, I guess.

We fired off the usual start, and suddenly, we’d connected. We’d finally gotten them out of their seats and out on the dance floor. THAT’S what I’m talking about!

But, some of the song selections started to work against us in that arena. We found ourselves getting friends up to jam, and the mood reverted back to “sit back and watch” mode. The whole vibe was shot down. Damn! Let’s get this party started again!

At some point, trying to steer the ship back on the party course, I started to lead us into Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me. A classic dance number, and first rate money song. Guaranteed to pack the dance floor. Also one Chuck despises. I have no idea why.

“NO!” C.J. declared from his side of the stage. Oh, Christ! Not now, I thought. We’ve got to get these people up!

“Come ON, man,” I pleaded. “We gotta…” I started the opening notes to the song.

“Suck my dick!” he said slowly, as he flipped up his bass and pointed to his crotch.

Well, that gets his point across. C.J. doesn’t want to do it. It was obvious he was pretty buzzed. I didn’t have the heart to fight with him. So, I played something else. For the next few songs, I struggled to get a direction where we could get this monster crowd into what we were playing. The songs we were playing just weren’t passing muster.

Naturally, since we started about 25 minutes late, we were about 25 minutes over. It was approaching 2:25 AM. Closing time. Last call. Get the hell out time. Especially after the savage beating last night. I didn’t want to run late. Got to give Patty Gale and them time to get people out of here.

But, that wasn’t at all on the minds of the other guys in the band. I figured we had one more song left in us. Sweet Child of Mine would be a logical choice here, but knowing C.J.’s condition, I wanted to give him a pass, and do something that still got the crowd going. You Shook Me seemed like the best choice.

Steve disagreed.

“We got time for one more!” Steve blared out.

“You Shook Me!” I told him. He glared at me.

“Naw!” he protested. “Sweet Child!” I shook my head. I knew that would be a disaster, and we were coming off the rails as it was.

“Can’t,” I said, and started playing AC/DC.

“Come on, man!” Steve said. I refused, and kept playing the familiar opening riff. As I suspected, the dance floor filled. It was a good choice.

Steve, however, gave me a look, flipped off his mic, and walked away. Walked right off stage. I continued to play, hoping he’d come through and finish the night this way. Just finish the song. He didn’t.

So, I sucked it up and tried to scream it myself. It was pretty horrible. Sounded more like a cartoon character than Brian Johnson. And, it hurt. I’m not used to singing like that. Hell, I can’t sing like that.

Still, the drunks out on the dance floor didn’t seem to care. They moved with reckless abandon. Not a one of them walked off the dance floor.

Mercifully, the song, and the night, came to an end. I was pretty hot. I wasn’t happy at all. Not at the way the night ended, at having to salvage that song, or at how the whole flow of the show ended up. I barked couple things to Boozie about our two “divas”, and let off some steam.

Some strange dude, eyes half mast, obviously wasted approached me.

“Hey dude,” he said pointedly, “how come you didn’t get me up to sing?”

Who in the fuck are you? Oh, this must be the guy Boozie was talking about. Felt bad, but, I had some bigger fish to fry. We needed to bring the set together. And we didn’t. In fact, we ended kind of awful.

And anyway, who the fuck are you? What are you in my face for?

“Look man,” I told him. “I’m not in the fucking mood. I’m pretty pissed off right now.” I walked away before I said something very rude. Because I was in a pretty rude mood.

Rebecca waiting by my side of the stage cleared my mood quickly, and the anger melted away. All in all, it was a really fun weekend, and a very, very profitable one! What the hell am I bitching about? Sorry! Come to think of it, as I look my sexy woman up and down, I feel great! I’ve fucking got it made!

Just going to have to do something about our “divas”…

Kung Fu Fighting

Subject Guitarist: Rock Bottom

Friday, July 13th, 2007

Venue: Eddie's, Granite City, IL


Gigs are coming fast and furious this month. Two at Eddie’s a couple weeks ago, and then two at Rumors in Wood River, site of the former Club 501. Coming this weekend, we have two nights at Club 111 in Pontoon Beach. Then, I’m off to Minneapolis, Minnesota for softball Nationals, where I’ll celebrate my birthday. Upon my return, we have an open weekend, then it’s a healthy schedule of dates up until 2008, where we’ve yet to book anything. And, with places like Rumors and Club 111 popping, I’m sure whatever open weekends we have will be filled soon! Don’t forget Wilmouth’s Halloween Bash in Brighton!

Now, I’m not complaining. I love the work. In fact, I relish playing tons of shows, because it really gets my “chops” up, and I feel I play much better. I don’t ever practice, because honestly, there isn’t much to practice. Sure, I have to keep the songs fresh once in a while, remember chord changes, fingering patterns. But so much of my soloing is very improvisational. My phrase choices and melodic passages are dictated by how I’m feeling, what my tone sounds like, and where my fingers seem to go! I have some basic ideas when I solo on a particular song, and phrases I use to tie the melodies together, but often, it’s just a really freeform odyssey, letting my soul take over, and finding my way aurally through my head into the listener’s.

Now, to do this with some proficiency, I have to play, and playing to myself doesn’t cut it. I get very bored very quickly. So, in essence, I can only practice live, in front of people! The only way I can rehearse is to put myself on the line and make myself have to deliver. I guess that’s why I love sitting in and jamming? Just the way my musical brain operates, I suppose.

I can remember back years ago when we were lucky to get gig’s once a month, it seemed. My playing suffered. When Kid Curious hit the circuit, and we were playing 10 to 20 gigs a month, my playing was in top form! Then the bottom fell out as Steve and Scott Buschmann left to form Saturn Cats. I watched Steve Kyle go from rookie to solid, seasoned performer, and I knew why. Part of it was sheer hard work and dedication on Skyle’s part. But, the other part was Saturn Cats was playing shitloads of gigs. Everywhere! From Des Moines to Texas, from Cincinnati to Wyoming, they played their asses off! Man, I wished I’d had that chance!

Back to the shows, Eddie’s was our first gig in a few weeks, so the gears were a little rusty. We creaked and wheezed, but we got the “machine” going off the ground, and a good time was had by all.

We get such a great crowd at Eddie’s, it really feels like home there. Tons of Rock Bottom clad fans rocking out and having a terrific time really gets the mood going for us. Song choices were easy for me, and everything worked pretty well. Comfortably, let’s say.

Becca was with me all night, and that felt wonderful. Having her by my side gave me confidence and a calming feeling. Something that I’d been missing, to tell the truth! I guess I’ve tried to mask the loneliness because we’re all islands to ourselves to some degree. There’s a great deal of joy to be found being single, and couple that with playing in a band, a great deal of fun.

But, being there with her gave me some kind of feeling of, well, completeness, for lack of a better term. That surprised me. I didn’t know I was missing that. I didn’t know that it was important to me. When you lose something, it’s easy to say “no big deal, I’ll get over it, or get by without it.” You show strength. But, when it’s back in your life, it’s amazing how you find yourself saying “I can’t believe how much I missed this!” I honestly can’t imagine how much I’d missed having someone special to play for. I wasn’t fooling myself when I didn’t have it, but, I’m not fooling myself now, either. It feels great.

I don’t recall a whole lot of specifics about the show itself. The crowd was pretty big, and they rocked hard. The band could have been tighter, but we got the job done, and sometimes that’s good enough.

Winding down the night after the show, Becca and I snuggled up off to the side, as I waited to get my cut of the pay. We discussed what to do after the show. A whole mess of Jack In The Box tacos sure sounded good!

April raced in from the parking lot barking “cops are here! Let’s go! Everybody out!” I was puzzled, because basically the only ones left in the bar were band members, “spouses”, and bar staff. Curious, I wandered out to take a look at what was going on.

It looked more like a bank robbery was taking place! Four GCPD patrol cars, red and blue lights flashing, were parked haphazardly across the virtually empty lot. A GCFD paramedic unit arrived, and tended to a gentleman stretched out on the asphalt, unconscious.

I moved in for a closer look as I have several good friends and relatives on the GCPD force. And a number of friends who work as paramedics for the fire department. Perhaps one of them is on scene? It didn’t appear so. Becca stayed back. She wasn’t really interested in the carnage, coupled with her ex-husband works for the force. Understandable. I wanted to take a peek, see what the commotion was about.

Keeping my distance from the scene to let the paramedics do their work, I gleaned that the individual knocked out on the parking lot had the living shit beat out of him by one, perhaps two others. He was in bad, bad shape. There was a lot of confusion running around the scene, as most people didn’t really know what the hell happened. It happened quickly, and most of the patrons had already cleared out.

Police took some interviews, and later approached me, asking if I’d seen anything. I informed him I hadn’t; we all were with the band inside. Two of the witness approached Steve and I, explaining to us what they’d seen and what they’d told police.

“Yeah, the guy laying there. He kinda started it. It was his fault,” the witness told me. “But then they beat the shit out of him! He was laying there on the ground, and they kept kicking him in the head! We finally stepped in and told ‘em ‘hey, look! We know what he did! He may have deserved his ass beat. But no one deserves that!’ Then they hopped in their truck and took off. Crazy, man! We just didn’t want to see him kill the guy.”

From the look of it, that might have been exactly what they’ve done. This guy was in really bad shape.

“Wow!” Steve told me, as the witnesses walked away. “That’s sad!”

“Well, sounds like the guy kind of deserved it,” I said as they loaded his motionless body onto a board, then onto a gurney.

“No, man, I don’t think anyone deserves that!” Steve answered.

“Sometimes, when you’re looking for trouble, you run into the wrong person.” I explained.

“Yeah. But,” Steve said, “there was no reason for them to do that to him.” He shook his head. “They’ve almost killed this guy. They could go to jail if he dies.” Steve was visibly upset at the spectacle.

I kind of thought about it for a moment, and it frightened me. Because I know that kind of rage. I know that kind of anger. I can completely understand it. When I'm pushed, my blood boils, and I'm not really in too much control of myself. My focus becomes to eliminate my enemy. I don't like to lose. I will use any means necessary.

And if someone had started something with me, where I wasn’t the instigator, which will always be the case, I could have very easily pummeled my opponent into the ground, and left that person laying on the parking lot of Eddie’s to die.

And felt he deserved it. He brought my wrath onto him. I wouldn't miss a moment's sleep.

And, perhaps Steve was right. I’d be going to jail for it, even though I didn’t start it. In the eyes of the law, I would become responsible.

In the heat of battle, would I really know when to stop? Could I?

I need to make sure I control that temper.