SO IT GOES...

Hard Times

2011-05-04T18:56:00.002-05:00

So let's see...These are things I learned today.

President Obama had one O.B.L, um, eliminated. Hooray! Go Team! U.S.A! And yet, the guy still can't catch a break. Things like, "Oh, it's a conspiracy; the guy's not really dead; Trump needs to authenticate the remains; we were too polite; why bother with a Muslim burial; they wouldn't do that for us; but he was unarmed; only because Bush laid the foundation."

Sheesh.

Kellogg's, maker of your beloved Tony the Tiger cereal, Pop Tarts, and other high fat/sugar/calorie snickety snacks that are mysteriously marketed toward our, gasp, children, has announced that they are raising the prices on said delectables because the profits were not as high as they had expected.

Not as high as they had expected.

So what they're saying is that, yes a profit was made (undoubtedly substantial), but it just wasn't enough. Which means that you, Mr. Sucker, will make up for it. Understand?

Sheesh, again.

About an hour ago, on Western Ave, I was sitting at a stop light, waiting for it to become a go light. The light changed from red to green, and the guy in front of me wasn't moving. So I honked, as I am wont to do. No movement. Another honk. Still nothing. Now the light has changed back to red. This gives me the opportunity to go around this chucklehead. As I pull in front of him, I notice he's slumped over. Yow! I put on my blinkers, get out of my car, cell phone in hand, and go over to the guy's window. I yell, "Hey." He jumps, startled.

Yep. Asleep.

Got me to thinking. Is this guy drunk, high, stoned, stupid, crazy?

Or just tired? After all, in these times of economic, political, and social stress, where we are all suspicious, we're worried about how we're gonna make it, worried whether or not our jobs (or gigs) will be safe, worried that we might have to pay for something that benefits someone else, and pissed that the big corporations appear to be moving right along, singing their little song. By the way, does anyone still fill up at BP these days? Just wondering.

So it goes...

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Catch my latest endeavor, The Bucktown Allstars, every Wednesday, from 10pm-1230am at the Bucktown Pub. 1658 W. Cortland in Chicago. Joining me are Shelby Pollard, Jay Moynihan, Brian Burke, and a slew of Chicago's best blues talent. Come by some time. It's free. What could be better than that?

Showtime

2011-04-02T18:25:00.007-05:00

I was asked to write a professional, yet personal story for the online magazine xfxthemag about the upcoming Chicago Blues Festival and my involvement with it. Please check it out at their site....Or read it right here, right now (go to their site anyways- it's pretty cool.)
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June 12, 2011: Chicago Blues Festival, we're the headline act on the main stage. There are about 100,000 screaming people out there, and I'm playing the drums with the legendary Lonnie Brooks Blues Band.

I'm sitting on top of the world.

Finally.

Really, this is the high point of my soon-to-be-storied career. The Chicago Blues Fest is arguably the biggest blues festival in the world. It's outdoors and it's free and it takes place downtown in Grant Park, smack dab in the middle of this big beautiful city of Chicago. It's massive, in every way.

Hopefully, rain is not in the forecast. Or is it? Who cares?

Chicago, my hometown, “the home of the blues.” Imagine it, surrounded by 99,999 other people in Grant Park, Lake Michigan and the lakefront glittering on one side, the glittering architecture of downtown all around you as dusk closes in, dancing and watching and listening to and, finally (whew), playing with great blues musicians in the great American city that embraced them.

Blues is raw and real, touching the deepest parts of your soul. It also makes you want to jump, shout, and, to quote B.B King, “Shake your boogie just a little bit.” Chicago was where all the blues musicians came, where a style and a sound honed from the cotton and soybean fields of the Mississippi Delta, rooted in pain and suffering, became joy and celebration. As America was beginning to rise from the Great Depression, the great bluesmen and blueswomen began their slow and steady journey straight north to Chicago, an exodus out of the richest poorest part of the U.S., the South. They poured north to Memphis and then to Chicago, and in Chicago, a new, electrified blues was born.

Some call it post-war blues.

But it's really called Chicago blues.

Chess records was in Chicago, at 2120 S. Michigan Ave. It was there, in the 1950's and 1960's, that the legendary, seminal, shouting, jumping, and stomping sounds of Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, and Willie Dixon were recorded, giving national attention to the blues, the only true American music, the roots of rock 'n' roll and jazz.

Chuck Berry, the REAL King of Rock and Roll, cut many of his classic sides at Chess.

Chuck has played blues fest.

Chess was so important that even the Rolling Stones (best white-boy blues band ever) recorded there a few times, including their hit “Time is on My Side.” And they came to Chess, to Chicago, for that matter, because they knew that Chicago was where the magic happened and where all of the greats of the blues were.

Keith Richards has played blues fest too.

You know, I've played gigs all over the world. Some have been small clubs, some have been huge theaters, arenas and festivals.

I've done weddings, bar mitzvahs, and even a funeral (yes, really.)

Not only do I play blues, but I also play jazz, zydeco, country, and rock and roll.

I've done network television. I've done commercials. I've done theater.

I've shared the bill with the likes of B.B King, Jerry Lee Lewis, Taj Mahal, Koko Taylor, Buddy Guy, George Thorogood, John Mayall and Mick Taylor.

Bozo the Clown.

Did I mention that I've run off and joined the circus a few times?

The big shows were what you'd expect as part of the rock and roll fantasy. Big names, big stages, big sound, first class treatment all the way. Most of those gigs are festivals overseas. (Sadly, the best gigs seem to happen outside of the U.S. “Those people” really love American roots music.) A five-star hotel off the coast of, say, Portugal, overlooking the Atlantic directly off your balcony as you wait for your room service breakfast (for two, natch), compliments of the promoter. Playing in the piazza of a gorgeous historic Tuscan town under a summer night sky, sharing the bill with B.B. King and Jerry Lee Lewis. Drinking champagne and lounging by the sea between gigs at a weeklong blues festival on an island off the coast of Thailand.

"Man, I done enjoyed things kings and queens ain't never had," to quote the great, growlin', gravelly voiced bluesman Howlin' Wolf from the song “Goin' Down Slow,” a celebration of his life as he was slowly wasting away and dying.

On the flip side, and for sure, there is a flip side, I've had to play some of the worst of the worst, driving 50 or 60 miles to some dump in the middle of the highway in Cornfield, Indiana, with a motel to the right (hourly, no doubt), a gas station to the left, and I've got to change clothes in a piss-filled bathroom stall. The pay is, um, well let's just say that it was low; less than a man's wage. Plus, the gig starts at 1am, ends at 5am, and the audience, in general, pays their bar tabs by the month with their government checks. And, what's worse, I've agreed to do things like this more than once. Happily, even. (I'm such an idiot. Wasn't I just on stage in Paris two nights ago, eating filet mignon and swooning with the love of my life, who I had just met? Why yes I was. At least she came back with me. And stayed.)

Ah, the life of a pro musician. I don't know when I decided that that was what I was going to be, but I do know I was young. And dumb. And full of...never mind. But, I've never looked back since the moment I made that decision, because that's what I am. It's who I am: a musician. Music is everything to me, playing music is a high like no drug can give you.

Like I said, "...kings and queens..."

That said, I've never played the main stage for the Chicago Blues Fest, and I'm as stoked as stoked can be. I've been waiting my whole life to do this gig, and now I'm doing it (nothing like a 22 year overnight success.)

Since the festival originated in 1984, a year after the death of the great Muddy Waters, many legendary musicians have graced that stage: Stevie Ray Vaughan, Johnny Winter, The Staple Singers, Albert Collins, Son Seals, Etta James, Otis Rush, Homesick James, and the great, great, GREAT Ray Charles. To now be in the same company with these giants, these heroes and mentors of mine, is nothing short of mind-blowing. I'm happy, proud, and humbled. What more is there, really?

I've been Lonnie Brooks' drummer for the last 10 years now; he's my boss and, more importantly, my friend. He's an interesting man and an interesting musician. His sound is a mix of his life, some Louisiana bayou and zydeco music, some Texas swing and country, some Chicago blues. You can trace the path he took to get to where he is. Throw it all together and you get the Lonnie Brooks sound. He's made more than 15 albums and he was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame last year. He's a big, handsome man who looks much younger than his years and wears snakeskin boots and a big old cowboy hat.

There aren't too many players from the older generation left these days. Soon there won't be any of them, and this world will likely not exist anymore for me. A man of Lonnie's years and his experience has nothing but stories to tell, things to be learned. I've heard so many, sometimes I can't even remember. The most important thing I got from him, though, is this:

“Stay ready to keep from getting' ready.” And I do that. Every day, every gig and between gigs. I'm always ready.

But this gig, BluesFest, well, it's been a long time comin'. (Almost time to hit, yet?)

I was 18 when I joined my first “real” gigging band. It was called the Blues Influence. I got the job straight out of high school by answering an ad in a newspaper seeking a “drummer for a working blues band.” If the ad had been seeking a “drummer for a working country band,” I just might have become a country drummer.

But it was a blues band, with the late, great L.C Walker as lead vocalist. He saw the fire that I had in my soul (I certainly didn't at the time). Somehow, he knew before I did that the blues was the path for me to take. Not only did he teach me the blues, so to speak, but he taught me about how to be a pro, how to be a “playa” (a valuable skill), and how to be a man (an even more valuable skill). L.C. used to tell me, constantly, how life was nothing more than finding a way to entertain yourself until you die. Some people work jobs (straight or otherwise), some people take drugs, and some people play music. It doesn't really matter what you're doing, so long as you're doing it full-on.

The beginning of a great friendship and career.

We played together, we partied together, we listened to all sorts of great music together, we went on the road together. We did crappy gigs in crappy bars for crappy money, and we had a helluva time.

One of the crappy bars we worked was a legendary blues joint called The Wise Fools Pub, on Lincoln Avenue, on the north side of Chicago. We had the Sunday night slot for about three years, and it was there that I cut my teeth (while my underage friends sat/stood/drowned in the audience).

The Fools hosted some of the greats of the city: Junior Wells, John Lee Hooker, Albert King, and, you guessed it, Lonnie Brooks.

And, funny thing, the first “big gig” that I ever did was opening for Lonnie at the Wise Fools 22 years ago. Lonnie was bigger than ever in the late '80's/early '90's, packing 'em in everywhere. The king of Chicago, at the time.

And I was opening for him that night. What a freakin' thrill.

"Wouldn't it be cool if I had that gig one day," I thought.

So it goes...

No Room for Rahm

2011-01-31T10:05:00.005-06:00

In today's Chicago Sun-Times editorial page, the paper endorsed Rahm Emanuel for mayor of Chicago.

I guess the job is now his for the taking.

As they say in the Spanish-speaking parts of the world, "Jesu Cristo."

That's exactly how I feel. To me, he's just an extension of the Daley Machine. Another powerful white guy who can be bought and sold by the highest bidders, advancing his own agenda, making lots of dough for his friends, and not really looking out for my (our your) best interests.

Then again, that's probably true for the non-white guy that I'll be voting for on Feb. 22.

Sigh.

Maybe y'all should just vote for me. I need a good gig, anyways.

So it goes...

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photo stolen from mashable.com

My Letter to Gov. Quinn

2011-01-09T12:03:00.005-06:00

I wrote a letter to the governor today concerning the new tobacco/income tax hikes. I had questions as well as ideas for potential solutions (you can't just bitch, ya know.) Feel free to copy this and send it to him on your own behalf.

Governor Quinn,
I am troubled by the income tax increase proposal on the table. During the most recent election cycle, you campaigned for a hike from 3% to 4%, not to 5.5%? I supported that proposal and voted for you. I'm reasonable, educated, and intelligent, so I saw the need for this increase. But not that high. Please explain.

Secondly, the proposal for a $1-a-pack tax increase on cigarettes was not part of your platform at all. It just unexpectedly appeared. I'd like you to explain that as well.

I understand why such a group-specific tax would be proposed: it's easy to target smokers. Smokers are an already vilified group. Smoking in public is banned virtually everywhere. Obviously, one could argue, with good reason: smoking is bad, second hand smoke is bad, etc, etc. Nobody would deny that. Even I would not deny these facts. But...

This sends a mixed message: (1)smoking is bad and the citizenry is not responsible enough to decide FOR THEMSELVES whether or not to allow smoking in public establishments, so the government has made that decision for us. (2) The truth of the matter is that our regressing financial situation completely DEPENDS on smokers and the (projected, not actual)revenue that can be generated from said group. To put it bluntly, they're an easy target that won't squawk. This is an obvious fact, since this was the only group-specific tax on the table.

You can't really have it both ways.

Thirdly, what kind of transparency can we expect as a result of the state's new found (potential) windfall? Basically, what are we going to get in return for all of this money? We want to know. All the time.

I would like to urge the governor's office to consider additional (not just other) solutions for our budgetary woes.

For example, why not raise the tolls for I-Pass users. They pay 40cents, while cash payers pay 80. Why not raise it to 50cents?

What about raising beer and liquor taxes?

Or raising the tax on sporting events (Bears playoff tix, on the low end are $200. That's face value, not scalper (ticket broker) value. What's another, say $20?)

Another idea I have is to allow a limited easing of the smoking ban. Perhaps you could offer a tobacco license for 10% of the total amount of taverns/bars in the state. Of course, these business owners would have to pay for that license (extra state revenue), but, all things being equal, they would also be generating more money for their own business, which also means more tax revenue for the state. An easy win/win situation.

Casinos should most certainly have the ban lifted, if it is, in fact, true that Indiana is reaping major benefits from Illinois' smoking ban.

One must assume, also, that Indiana will end up selling a lot more cigarettes to Illinois citizens as well. What potential ramifications would that have on the projections?

Thank you for your time. I eagerly await your response.
........
So it goes...

Tax cuts move ahead in Senate - Chicago Sun-Times

2010-12-14T08:44:00.000-06:00

Just a reminder to everyone who deigns to read this:

This is not a tax cut from the bounty of the Right. This is to keep the tax rates at the current levels. The "cuts" happened years ago (remember the little $600 milk bone you got a few years back? Me neither.)

When the next round of elections come up, and you are told that you got a glorious tax cut because of the Republican controlled House, please, think twice- it's alright.

Tax cuts move ahead in Senate - Chicago Sun-Times

So it goes, and goes, and goes...

Grieving Santo

2010-12-10T08:40:00.003-06:00

Today is Ron Santo's funeral. Sad, but inevitable.

Sigh.

Yesterday, according to the Sun-Times:

"A grieving Ron Santo fan was arrested Thursday night for allegedly writing a tribute to the former late Cub on a CTA platform wall.

Ron Brakes, of Wheeling, told police he was upset after attending Santo’s wake and was “trying to do a good thing” when he defaced the Red Line’s Grand Avenue stop with a Sharpie.

“Good! Buy! Ron Santo! Cubs Best Cub Thirt-Baseman Forever Love Always God,’’ Brakes, 48, scribbled on the platform wall, according to a police report.

Brakes was charged with criminal defacement of property and possession of a marker with intent to deface."

Intent to deface? What is that, exactly? Does that mean that anyone with a Sharpie (tm) or a pen or a crayon or whatever can be arrested because they might do something criminally related?

Remember the movie "Minority Report"?

So it goes...

The REAL Death Panel

2010-12-03T17:24:00.005-06:00

So, does everyone remember the big health care debate our mighty nation endured just a few short months ago?

Or were we just watching Dancing with the latest American Idol?

As you may recall, there was a portion of the proposed health care bill that provided for end-of-life counseling for those who were facing the inevitable.

The vaunted and lovely Sarah Palin, the one who is the alleged Republican front runner for the 2012 Presidential election, and highly paid shill under contract with Fox News, said that this amounted to "death panels."

Now we all know that this was a gross exaggeration on her part.

We do, right?

The Huffington Post reported in August of '09 that former Gov. P's opinion of our impeding doom was this:

"...government health care will not reduce the cost; it will simply refuse to pay the cost. And who will suffer the most when they ration care? The sick, the elderly, and the disabled, of course. The America I know and love is not one in which my parents or my baby with Down Syndrome will have to stand in front of Obama's "death panel" so his bureaucrats can decide, based on a subjective judgment of their "level of productivity in society," whether they are worthy of health care. Such a system is downright evil."

Sarah is also a Jan Brewer fan.

Ahem.

In yesterday's New York Times, I learned that in Arizona (Brewer Country to you and me,) there actually ARE death panels:

"Effective at the beginning of October, Arizona stopped financing certain transplant operations under the state’s version of Medicaid. Many doctors say the decision amounts to a death sentence for some low-income patients, who have little chance of survival without transplants and lack the hundreds of thousands of dollars needed to pay for them."

"Organ transplants are already the subject of a web of regulations, which do not guarantee that everyone in need of a life-saving organ will receive one. But Arizona’s transplant specialists are alarmed that patients who were in line to receive transplants one day were, after the state’s budget cuts to its Medicaid program, ruled ineligible the next — unless they raised the money themselves."

So, let's review: In Arizona, if you are poor and in need of a life-saving transplant, you will die.

Since the most recent mid-term elections, Republicans have been screaming that the American people have firmly spoken and that there is now a mandate (see Republican agenda) that needs to be adhered to.

This is how far we have fallen.

So it goes...

Promises Broken, Promises Kept

2010-11-17T09:55:00.008-06:00

Full body scanners are all the rage these days. Your junk and your trunk are not safe from the government groping, there is probably medical danger (x-ray radiation and back-scatter x-ray radiation), and, really, flying is just not fun anymore.

Land of the free? Home of the brave? Why do x-ray techs wear those lead vests anyways?

They also say (whoever THEY are) that the images from your body scan will be destroyed immediately.

According to an article at gizmodo.com, "At the heart of the controversy over "body scanners" is a promise: The images of our naked bodies will never be public. U.S. Marshals in a Florida Federal courthouse saved 35,000 images on their scanner. These are those images."

And, of course, those images are up for public viewing. Imagine that.

Shocking right?

Did the government lie?

Probably.

Check that: YES.

You know who doesn't lie?

BMR4, that's who.

Our CD release party for the new record, "Fixing a Hole", is on Nov. 21 at Martyr's in Chicago. You can view the invite and all the details for the show right here.

Truth: music to your ears.

So it goes.

Science and Sounds (and squirrels)

2010-11-15T14:22:00.007-06:00

I was sitting on my deck this morning, coffee in hand, observing the various sciuridae (squirrels).

They were doing what they always do: running, jumping, digging, etc.

One said sciuridae made a spectacular leap in which he/she/it jumped from one tree-branch to another, and then proceeded to use the second branch as a catapult to get to a third branch.

So it makes me think, "Do squirrels have a fundamental understanding of physics?"

Ok. Strange, I know.

But what's not so strange is that my way cool band, the most excellent BMR4, will be performing a CD release concert on Sunday, Nov. 21 at the glorious and family friendly Martyr's, 3855 N. Lincoln Ave. in Chicago.

At long last, BMR4 will be releasing the new record- an extended EP entitled "Fixing a Hole", featuring selections by Lennon/McCartney and Chicago legend Herbie Hancock, among others.

We're really excited about the record and we want you to come. It's an early concert, we're doing one set, and it's all ages. Bring your kids, your friends, their friends, everyone.

It's only a $5 cover charge, the kitchen will be open, and...
EVERYBODY WILL GET A COPY OF THE NEW RECORD!!!

(when I say record, I mean that you get a CD or a download card- your choice. Maybe next time we'll have vinyl)

We're asking for $15 for the disc or $10 for the download card. If you can swing that, great. If you want to pay less than that, no problem- pay what you're willing/able. If you think that it was only worth the price of admission, don't sweat it. Seriously. It's free, if you want.

The point is that we WANT YOU to have our music. So please come to the concert.

http://bmr4.com/
http://martyrslive.com/

(We'll also have copies of our previous recording "Turning Point"(CD's only), as well as our debut recording "BMR4".)

So it goes...

kings

2010-01-06T15:56:00.008-06:00

hoy es el dia del reyes (today is the day of the kings.)

thus the usage of all lower case.

respect for kings, if you will.

today is the day that everyone exchanges their presents and does all of that kind of holiday stuff. most everything is closed today, markets and stores and things like that. tabernas and restaurants, though, are open and thriving. i ate at the alleged best indian restaurant in madrid, and since i´ve not yet eaten at any others, i´d have to say that the rumors are true. it was muy fantastico.

and of course, i can´t recall the name.

i´ve been out to 2 open jam sessions so far this week (and yes, i know it´s only wednesday. i can stop any time. really.)

on monday was a place called segundo jazz. i´d say it was fair to midland. nice joint, comfy room, but there were no other guys who came to play, except me.

i mean nada.

weird.

plus, the audience was not really there for the music. kind of an upscale crowd, and very chatty. also, the club was kind of in an upscale barrio (a barrio popular,) so i guess it´s not too surprising. birds of a feather and all. i didn´t mind, though, as i got to play several tunes with some decent players with no lines and no waiting.

tuesday night was a club called el junco. this joint was far superior: attentive audience, dark, smoky, convivial, etc. also, there were some really good players there, although they were typical jazz snobs (that´s universal, i guess. and yes, some of my best friends are the said jazz snobs. sorry to offend.) kind of like a bunch of peacocks showing off their plumage.

too cool for school, i guess.

but i suppose i´ve probably done that, too, once or twice in my time, so what comes around really does go around. i´ll just have to mold and bend them a bit.

stroke their egos for a change.

no problem.

tonight, i´m going to go listen to flameco. there´s a place right down the street from me that is supposed to be hot, hot, hot. i had heard some flamenco in seville, but not yet here, in madrid. in seville, i saw this homeless guy, actually, who was hanging out in this little (i´m talking broom closet little) alleyway taberna. it was one of the most interesting places i´ve ever been to, and not at all a music club (at least not in the sense that most of us would think of). he had a bedroll and all of his stuff stashed away in a corner of the bar, playing for tips and drinks, and the love of it all. he sang and played guitar, and did both very well.

i mean really, really good.

he was, as i said, homeless.

and a junkie.

the king of flamenco in spain is a guy named Cameron de la Isla (the shrimp of the island). he is revered here, almost like a god. after the dictatorship ended in spain in the ´70´s, there was a major renaissance in art and music (sex, drugs, and rock and roll, basically,) and this singer modernized the style, mixing pop and blues with the traditional flamenco. it´s really cool and exciting music (boy, that´s a lame description.)

truly, though, it´s exciting, and vibrant and some of the most interesting music i´ve ever heard.

i´m going to have to really absorb it if i ever hope to do it.

here´s a link to him. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVsFRQL1YJg
here too. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sc4dFji596I&feature=related

just so you know, cameron is dead now.

he was also a junkie.

so it goes...

Tradition? I Don´t Need No Stinking New Years Gig

2009-12-30T09:04:00.006-06:00

It´s true. Who needs it? Sick of the game, anyways.

The oh-so-fabulous NYE (that means new year´s eve to all you rookies) gig has become a thing of the past, I fear. Used to be that, traditionally, NYE was the golden goose for musicians (amateur hour for everyone else.) As a general rule, one would expect to make about triple of what a normal Saturday night gig would be. Pay the rent in one night, and all.

As a general rule.

That´s changed now. A lot of places are just eliminating live music altogether (thank you, karaoke, Rock Band, and recession.) Other joints are just trying to manipulate, wanting to pay you just a bit more (maybe) in exchange for doing an extra set.

Or two.

Mainly, though, places that will still hire players are offering the standard wage (50 bucks and a chicken sandwich?) Ok, not that bad, but for some, it most certainly is. It may be again for me someday, too. Who knows.

This is my second year in a row for having the night off. Almost unheard of in this biz. Nevertheless, this is the state of affairs in my world.

And I´m not the least bit fazed.

See, I´m Europe. Spain, to be precise. I´ll be staying in Madrid, for the most part, near Anton Martin (a barrio.)

Mui fantastico!

(Just to get it out of the way, the weather is great. I hear that there´s about a foot of snow in Chicago, so I´m very well off. Today in Seville, where I am spending just a few days for New Year´s, it´s about 60.)

I decided, very early in the year, that I´d be in Spain for much of the winter. It was gonna be Jamaica (mon) as usual, but a little bird convinced me that Spain would be the tops, since we were there earlier in the year. So with some planning, saving, and having resigned myself some time ago that New Year´s was not going to pay many bills, like usual, I decided that I´d bag the idea of gigging, come here, hang with some very good friends, and do it as differently as I ever had done.

So that means there´s no having to haul my gear through the snow (did you say 12"?), not having to deal with the horrible driving conditions, and not having to play music that you can chew your steak to (wonder if I´d even get one of those steaks. My gut says nay nay nay.) I´m not gonna have to worry about drunk drivers everywhere, police check points everywhere, and I won´t have to bitch about being underpaid.

What a relief.

Instead, I´ll be having cerveza and tapitas and pescado (?) and jamon.

And then 12 grapes at midnight.

There is a tradition here ¨en España¨ that when the clock strikes 12, you must eat 12 grapes before the end of the chimes (can you imagine an entire country glued to the tv or radio or church bells? Me neither, but I´ll let you know.) This, naturally, will bring you good luck for the rest of the year. If you fail to eat them, then watch out. There may be a surprise visit from ¨el diablo¨(ok, I made that part up. But you never know...)

Now that could be a pretty nice new tradition to start.

Feliz Año Nuevo.

So it goes...

Loss and Lunacy at Legends

2009-12-03T14:28:00.006-06:00

This is a post that I hate to write.

A good friend of mine, Chris Neal (saxophone for the Brother John band), had his horn ripped off at Buddy Guy's Legends a few days ago.

Chris has been in John's band for years, and that band has been the house band at Legends for years, playing every other Monday night. I've written about the Blue Monday Jams on these pages on many occasions, so those of you who are familiar with me, you know how much I like going to Buddy's on a Monday. The characters that you encounter time and time again are like none you'd ever meet in "real life".

Apparently, Chris' tenor sax (Yamaha Custom EX- it's a nice instrument) was lifted from the green room at the club (on the second floor and away from public access, by the way), which makes this tale of woe all the worse. For those of you who are not in a band or have never seen an episode of Oprah, the green room is reserved for the talent. It's a place where you can hang and chill, be away from the audience, and not have to be "on".

The break room, if you will.

And, of course, it's the place where you can keep your personal stuff, allegedly secure and out of harms way.

So basically, someone in the club went through the VIP area, up the stairs to the green room, took the horn, came back down the stairs, and probably walked through the club with said horn in tow.

This is a travesty. Legend's has a reputation as a leading music venue in Chicago, the so called "Home of the Blues". The club's owner is also reputable, famous, remarkable, and one of the world's foremost ambassadors of the only true American music.

Buddy Guy is Chicago Blues. Something like this should not be happening in his club.

So who's to blame? Was it a patron of the club or a Legends employee that took it, I wonder? It was one or the other, that's for sure.

Unless, of course, it was another musician. Now there's a thought.

And if it was another musician (not an unusual possibility, to be sure,) it's not like he/she will be able to bring it out on a gig. Ever.

Which could only mean...

As Steely Dan once sang, "So I'll pawn my crown, for a ride uptown..."

Hopefully Buddy and Legends will take care of Chris as best as they can.

So it goes...

BMR4 Year in Review

2009-11-27T15:45:00.007-06:00

So it's the end of November, Thanksgiving dinner has been eaten (in some cases multiple times), the holidays are in full swing, and the year is coming to a close.

All in all, it was a good year for my jazz group, BMR4. We've done a bunch of cool gigs all over the area, and have had some fine moments as a band. No doubt, the solid gold dancers at the Halsted Market Days festival will register as highlight numero uno (at least for yours truly.)

What we've got left is going to send out 2009 with quite a bang. Among other things, we'll conclude our Thursday night residency at Andy's Jazz Club, with performances on the first 3 Thursdays of December. Those gigs are always a blast, and we look forward to it every time.

December 9 is certainly a date to circle on the old calendar (do people still use those? besides me, I mean?) We'll be performing a special concert in honor of the late Master, John Coltrane at the Jazz Showcase in Chicago. It is the 45th anniversary of the release of the legendary "A Love Supreme" album, and we're going to give our homage and interpretation of the record (wish us luck! a bold challenge, for sure.) We'll also be performing other Coltrane favorites that have come through email requests (if you haven't made one yet, there's still time.)

This, proudly, will be our first time at the Showcase, so we hope that you can make it out for that one. It's a FREE concert, and sponsored by WDCB, 90.9 FM, College of DuPage (special thanks to Ken Scott for the continued support of BMR4 and live jazz in Chicago.)

With that, we've got 2010 ahead of us. 10 years of BMR4. That's a long time. So what does a decade old band do?

New stuff, of course!

We did a record a few years ago that we never released. It was to be called Fixin' a Hole, with that tune (yes, the Beatles' tune) as the lead track. Back then we were, um, how shall I put it, broke. We couldn't put it out, nor could we get someone to do it with/for us. But that was then, and this is now, and we think that we should be able to do something with it. This will most likely be released as a digital download only. We're thinking about doing that so that you can hear new stuff, and we can spend the time to do it all right.

And by the way, we're still less than flush, so if there are any patrons of the arts out there...

ahem, anyways...

We've also got a few things cooking in terms of recording new material. It's been about 2 years since we released Turning Point, we've finally broken even on the project, and so it's time for something fresh (not that you shouldn't pick up another copy or 2 as a worthy stocking stuffer for that special someone.)

We've been writing some stuff, we've been talking about other tunes we'd like to tackle, and we're just about at that point of getting that proverbial ball rolling. There's been some talk among us that maybe a few guests will join us on the record. We've worked with a lot of great players over the years, so that might be something for us to consider.

Last but not least (another stupid cliche. ugh!), we've gotten together all of our recordings from the Morse Theater shows that we did in the beginning of the year. There were six performances at the now defunct venue (too bad, it was really nice,) and we were fortunate enough to have had them all recorded. We got a lot of good material covered, with some very good performances. There's certainly a record in there somewhere (it's something like 19 hours worth of music- including sound checks, some of which weren't half bad.) We shall see what we come up with. Stay tuned!

Of course, the band would like to give a special thanks to the vocalists who participated on the shows with us: Lisa Roti, Allison Ruble, Nicole Kestler, Typhanie Monique, and Petra van Nuis. You all did a fabulous job.

No matter what, though, live music IS best! Please continue to support it wherever you are.

So it goes...

Short Burst-More guns, please

2009-11-10T18:29:00.002-06:00

So, let's see.

We've had 3 mass shootings in the last week: one on Ft. Hood military base, perpetrated by a soldier against other soldiers, and the other two committed at (unrelated) office parks.

Christ.

I've also heard the phrase "lock down" used over and over as well. Thought that phrase was reserved for penitentiaries and philandering husbands.

We're slowly losing our humanity.

What do the three incidents have in common? Guns, of course.

For all of you who like to cling to the second amendment (no, not Commandment), maybe now you can see that we have too many guns.

They don't keep us safe. They just make us crazy.

So it goes...

Dylan Review

2009-10-30T15:33:00.005-05:00

I went and saw Bob Dylan last night.

Wow!

First of all, I'm a huge Dylan fan, so I'm biased. But I've also never seen a Dylan show that I've liked. So I was a little wary.

This was way different.

The gig was at the Aragon Ballroom, the "Brawlroom" as we used to call it, when it had a staple of metal acts on a constant basis. Craziness abounded indeed for many a reckless teenager.

That was not how the Dylan show was, though (no kidding.)

No, despite the lack of a mosh pit, the Aragon was the absolute perfect place for Dylan to play. Like I said, I've not seen a show of his that I've liked, and after last night, I learned why.

It was the room. I'd forgotten how cool the Aragon is.

Dylan is a genius, as most of you know (or will at least acknowledge.) He'll probably have a reputation along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart a century from now (provided we have blown ourselves up or died off as the result of an uninsurable, I mean incurable, disease.) And, really, the best way for that genius to be performed is in a small and intimate setting. This just doesn't happen in a stadium or arena or festival. Dylan is subtle, dynamic, and always changing. It just doesn't seem to work, in my opinion, in a large venue.

The listed capacity for the Brawlroom is 4500, though I doubt it. I'd say more like 2500. No matter, there was probably only 1000 people in the audience (which was fine with me. A lot of people missed out. Suckers.)

He kicked off the show with two rarities. First was Watching the River Flow, released only as a single, and then Girl From the North Country, released on both the Freewheelin' album and Nashville Skyline (one of my faves.)

This really set the tone of the show. He was doing older stuff, but in the current style he's been developing over the past decade. That's standard for him. And if you're really a fan, then you already know that, really, this is a blues band. The last 4 albums that he's put out, going back to '97's Time Out of Mind, are a collection of true roots/blues/americana music. He's been going back to the beginnings and developing something very much minty fresh while being true to a bygone era.

Certainly better than most of the blues bands in Chicago, the so-called "Home of the Blues".

He was sporting a 6-piece band (2 guitars, bass, drums, keys/horn/3rd guitar, and Bob, who played guitar, keys, and harp,) basically the same unit he's been using for the last few years. Last night, the lead guitar player for the gig was Charlie Sexton, who is, in a word, smokin'.

And this is what makes Dylan so great, especially at this point in his career. His m.o. has always been re-invention, from the folk days, converting to electric at Newport and rocking, to finding God and putting out gospel (those were not very good records, his "godrock".)

Nowadays, he's clearly paying homage to Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, and Hoagy Charmichael, but making it Dylan.

Off of his latest album, Together Through Life, he played Hell's My Wife's Hometown, in the vein of Willie Dixon's I Just Want to Make Love to You, with dynamics that were so effective and well executed, you would have thought this was a bar gig (I saw Dylan in a bar once, but that's another story for another day.) The bass man was playing an upright, the drummer was using brushes, and Bob was playing leads, using sparse phrasing, and mostly picking single notes.

He also played Beyond Here Lies Nothing, also off the new record. This is in the style of Otis Rush's All Your Lovin' , done entirely as a rumba. The drums were powerful and tight, and the interplay between Dylan and Sexton was flawless and easy. They've been together a while, now, and it shows.

Most of the tunes were newer, which I enjoyed. I really like the recent catalog. Some were hits: Stuck Inside a Mobile, Highway 61 Revisited, Just Like a Woman, and of course the money song, Like a Rolling Stone (everyone has to play their signature. It's almost mandatory.)

None of them were done as they were on the album.

He even re-invents the old stuff. And the small venue is where you can really see (he's an outstanding band leader, and his guys never take their eyes off of him, lest they miss something) and hear it all unfold.

Really, though, my words cannot express what really went down. I feel bad about that. You really should have been there.

I'm going back to see him again tonight.

So it goes...
.

More health care

2009-10-28T09:59:00.003-05:00

I received an email from ColorofChange.org. I wanted to share it with you so that you can make a statement to our (non) government that we all need health care.

Especially for your favorite artists and musicians and kids that go without or without enough...

*****

The Senate is closing in on a health care bill with a public health insurance option, a key ingredient of meaningful health care reform.

But conservatives and insurance companies are fighting hard against the public option, so Senate leadership has compromised by including an "opt-out" clause, which would allow individual states to choose not to participate in the program.^[1]

There's a real danger here. In the stimulus fight, we saw Republican governors and legislators refuse federal dollars for political gain. The same thing could happen with health care reform, with everday people in states like Lousiana, Alabama, and South Carolina -- states with large Black, poor, and working-class populations -- left out.^[2]

That's why I've joined ColorOfChange.org's campaign calling on Congress and the White House to make the public option available everywhere. Please join me:

http://www.colorofchange.org/healthcare/?id=2461-1158880

I understand the need for compromise and negotiation, but I also want to make sure that no community gets negotiated away in the process.

Including "opt-out" may be the best way to get a bill through the Senate with a public option--but that won't be the end of the process, and it doesn't mean "opt-out" will be in the final bill. The House still needs to decide exactly what will be in its health care bill. And once both the House and the Senate have passed legislation, they'll have to negotiate with each other, and the White House, to reconcile the differences between the two bills.

That's why we need to make it clear that we're watching and that we will demand a public option that's available in every state. Please join me in sending this message to Congress and the White House, and ask your friends and family to do the same:

http://www.colorofchange.org/healthcare/?id=2461-1158880

Thank you.

References:

1. "So what is the 'opt-out' compromise?" Talking Points Memo, 10-26-2009
http://tinyurl.com/yjffquq

2. "Public option opt out denies help to those who need it most," Fire Dog Lake, 10-8-2009
http://tinyurl.com/yks5sxz

This is getting so tiring.

So it goes...

Here's to your Health

2009-10-20T12:32:00.003-05:00

Life's endurance test.

Part of the title of the blog you (and hopefully your friends) are currently reading.

Being a musician means being self employed, for the most part.

The idea of going to work in the pro musicians' world is way different from most everybody else who has to do something to earn their gold doubloons.

Being a musician also means that you've accepted the idea of never really making a whole lot of dough. Or having some sort of retirement fund. Or having someone pay your health insurance bill for you.

You want a raise? You're joking right?

Vacation time? Holiday pay?

Ha and ha.

That's a tough concept for most people to swallow.

We accept these conditions, though. That's just how it goes. We playas do what we do. We're not really suited to do anything else (you probably wouldn't want us doing anything else either.) Mostly we're weirdos and misfits, the square peg trying to fit into the circular hole.

But, we're still people (and yes, we are going to be playing during the Bears game. Did you think we were just setting up our stuff for fun?)

And we need health care, just like any and everybody else.

Now, I've got health insurance. Really, it's not, though. It's more like bankruptcy insurance. I've got to spend thousands up front before the company starts kicking in.

Plus, since I'm paying my own premiums myself, the money I send to them is after-tax money (those of you who get coverage through your jobs don't get to boast such good fortune. Count yourself as lucky.)

So, as you've obviously figured out where I stand on this issue (if you didn't, you do now,) I am very much in favor of a complete health care overhaul. Personally, I believe in a single-payer system, similar to the dreaded French system, but part of the Obama plan "offers a public health insurance option to provide the uninsured and those who can’t find affordable coverage with a real choice". I suppose that's, at least, a good start.

Sadly, the U.S. is a nation of sides. you're either for or against Obama; you're either a democrat or a republican; you either think Fox News is real news or you don't.

You either believe everyone should be able (entitled) to see a doctor or you don't.

Today I got one of Barack Obama's mass emails. I get them a lot. He urged us to call our senators and representatives and let them know where we stand. After all, it's up to Congress to craft the bill, not the President's. He simply signs off on it. Now of course, he's put it out there as to what he deems acceptable or not, and pressures Congress to do it. But they write it.

And they write it based on our wishes (presumably.)

So I've made the calls today. I hope that you will too. Remember, they work for us. We should not fear them. They need to fear us.

Here is a portion of the email I received:

Health insurance reform is finally ready for consideration by the full Congress, and hundreds of insurance company lobbyists on Capitol Hill are working overtime to kill it. Calling is quick and easy, but effective -- and your voice has tremendous power at this critical moment.

After you make your call, tell the staffer who picks up where you live and that you're counting on Congress to deliver on health reform. Let them know that Americans like you support the President's plan -- and that if your representatives are working to pass it, they have your thanks.

If we hit 100,000 calls made or committed to, we'll send an unmistakable signal that this time, families must come before insurance companies. We'll be tracking progress toward our goal publicly -- make sure to report your call back to us so we can count it:

http://my.barackobama.com/TTDCall

The link gives you Durbin's and Burris' phone numbers at the Senate, as well as Quigley's in the House (5th district). If you're in a different district (or in another state altogether), there is a link to get your guy (gal).

Ah, the beauty of checks and balances (and you thought I wasn't a patriot.)

So it goes...

Shameless Promotion- Band Photos

2009-10-12T11:06:00.004-05:00

I'm doing a gig at the world famous Jazz Showcase in Chicago in mid-December.

It should be pretty cool. It's the band's first time in the place and we're gonna do an all-Coltrane (all the time) performance, including every selection from the great Love Supreme album.

No cover charge (try getting that from your doctor.)

Ooh and aah.

Just like any other company offering goods and services (are we still clinging to capitalism in the wake of nationalized banks and compassion for insurance companies' well being and proper place in society?), we need to promote the event in hopes of attaining fortune and glory and money for parking.

So we had a post card printed up with all of the info for the gig at the Jazz Showcase on Dec. 9 starting at 8pm. Maybe you are on our list to receive said postcard via U.S. Mail (another foolishly outdated institution.)

The card also has a band photo.

"So what?" you say?

Well, as any of you who have spent time in the trenches on the road know, EVERY band has to have a band photo. It's part of the package. So the group dons it's "look", whatever that is, which has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not the band is any good (and usually they're not.)

For the rest of you, who have not seen the latest action shot of Dr. Love and the Milk Monkeys, there is a great website that I was turned on to by my friend, colleague, and bass player of BMR4, Chris Bernhardt, who incidentally will be performing on Dec. 9 at 8pm at the Jazz Showcase in Chicago.

The website is http://www.rockandrollconfidential.com/hall/index.php

Check it out. It is one of the funniest things I've seen online that wasn't dirty or banned in Southern states.

806 S. Plymouth Ct. in Chicago at 8pm on Dec. 9, by the way.

So it goes...

Rolling Along

2009-10-05T15:35:00.005-05:00

For those of you that have been wondering about me (and I'm sure that number is quite large), I'm alive and well and rolling right along.

Like a stone, as one might say.

Autumn always seems to bring a lull with it. Things have certainly slowed down. Guess that's why they call it the fall (whoever "they" are).

The summer, for both the working player and the weekend warrior that undercuts the working player, is and was lively and full of action. Lots of fun was had by yours truly. I had a great deal of work with both the Lonnie Brooks band and the BMR4, as well as the fine Mississippi Heat and Matt Stedman bands. I did a gig with an old pal, Vince Agwada, and another with an even older set of pals (Ron Shanaver, Buzz Kilman, Pat Brennan, "Dangerous" Dave Forte, and the All Bubba Blues Band/Heirs of Moe.)

Neil Young wouldn't have been prouder.

I also did a few clunkers. You know, the gig was average, the band (and the dough) was only average, the venue was average, and the wardrobe was average (if you look like a hack...)

But that was then, and this is now, and there's only looking forward. And even though things drop off a bit right about now, meaning the bread gets lighter in concert with the workload, it's by no means a disaster. Simply an adjustment in lifestyle.

And it is a lifestyle, not just a job.

Which is why it kills me that some of these younger cats out there can be so shortsighted. As you have by now surmised, I recently did a gig with a young bass player (always with the bass players.)

Green as a frog.

To again quote the late, great L.C. Walker (it's becoming routine these days, it would seem): "Let me elucidate."

You gotta do what you gotta do, and I understand that. But if you're gonna go ahead and take that $50 or $75 gig (yeah, I hate it too, but sometimes...,) the first thing to remember is that it's not really a good idea to bitch about it while you're on the gig. Nobody wants to hear it. Not the other guys in the band (they're getting screwed too, don't forget,) not the band leader, and certainly not the boss at the gig (even though he knows he's screwing you.)

Complaining will only give you a bad reputation in your young professional life. And since I am looking over at the kiddie table, remember that you don't exactly have one yet. We all deserve to make more, but we took the gig and that's that. If you really don't dig it, then don't do it (and believe me, I've turned down as many cheap-o gigs as I've taken.)

I know you think you're Jaco (who?), but, um, you're not. Maybe someday though.

Doesn't really matter if you're perceived as a whiner right out of the gate.

It's easy to find someone who'll do that $75 hit for 50, know what I mean?

The other thing you shouldn't do is spend half or more of your dough at the bar. It's not the smartest thing to be doing, don'tcha think? I mean, if you're complaining that the money's low, and you deserve this and that and such and such and your rent is due Monday and you gotta pay your over charges on your phone bill, then it's probably not a good idea to just give your paltry salary back to the boss.

Like I said, he knows.

As for me, I just roll along. Taking the good with the bad. Keeping my complaints close to the vest. Staying in the good graces of band leaders for the side work that fills in some of my blank spaces (which means I've got dates to fill. Don't be shy in calling.)

So it goes...

Rules of Conduct

2009-09-17T10:59:00.005-05:00

In the midst of all of the public bickering going on these days, something very significant actually happened.

Kanye dissed Taylor (cue the groan from the peanut gallery.)

I know, it's shocking, what with the relevance of the prestigious VMA's.

Now, what's important here is not how you feel about the so-called Captain K. Is he a jerk? Is he a hero? Is he tellin' it like it is? Keeping it real?

(Will he go to rehab within the next month? Boost the sagging CD sales? Remember, you heard it here first.)

Rather, what is important is the fact that he didn't act like a pro. He certainly gets paid like a pro (unlike yours truly.) So he should act like one.

There are a lot of "rules" that need to be followed when your a pro musician. All of them seem pretty obvious, but the mentality of the typical musician never ceases to amaze me. They're simple, really.

You gotta do things like show up and be ready to play on time (which means you're not walking through the door to set up 10 minutes before the hit- are you listening, guitar players?) You need to have professional gear that is actually in working order (still looking at you, guitar players.) Your gear includes chords, cables, power strips, extra strings and 9 volt batteries. Oh, yeah, and an amp, too.

And a guitar strap.

(I was on a gig once where the guitar man forgot his guitar- huh?)

Other responsibilities include having to dress appropriately, even if it is a jeans and t-shirt gig. Bands should have a look, even if it's the dirty, grungy, uncaring look. So make sure that you're part of it. You should also stay (relatively) sober. You were hired to do a job, so make sure you are still able to perform.

"A man should know his limitations."- L.C. Walker

Finally, you are not supposed to fight with your band mates (co-workers) while you are on the stage. If there is some point of contention going on, save it for the back room. Not only do you make a fool of yourself, but you give all of your colleagues a bad name, you embarrass them, and chances are that you're not going to get called again to work with so-and-so.

These are our rules of decorum.

Hmmm. Sounds like just about anybody's job requirements, no? You would almost certainly be fired for berating your boss in front of your co-workers

Which brings us to Rep. Joe Wilson (R.-S.C.)

South Carolina, by the way, still flies the Stars and Bars atop the statehouse. Nice.

Is he a hero or a jerk? Remember, it's not what he said, but where he said it (and before you start yapping and getting off-topic, all of our so-called leaders lie.)

The rules of decorum in the House of Representatives are very clear:

As stated in section 370 of the House Rules and Manual, it has been held that a member could not:

call the President a “liar.”

call the President a “hypocrite.”

describe the President’s veto of a bill as “cowardly.”

charge that the President has been “intellectually dishonest.”

refer to the President as “giving aid and comfort to the enemy.”

refer to alleged “sexual misconduct on the President’s part.”

If you still think he's a hero, then I feel for you.

So it goes...

************************************************************************************
photo credit: Jason DeCrow/AP

The Bubbas and the Blues

2009-09-14T10:05:00.010-05:00

This past weekend I had a bit of a musical reunion.

Old friends*...

Buzz Kilman and the All Bubba Blues Band. The 25th anniversary show at the soon-to-be-famous Good Old Days Festival in beautiful Winfield, Il.

Ok, so I wasn't in the band 25 years ago. Come to think of it, I wasn't even in high school yet. I started playing with the band around '93 or '94 until the end of their run, 4 or 5 years later. Basically, it was the first "high profile" gig that I had ever had.

Now, when I say high profile, I'm not talking about working with such industry greats like Kanye West and Taylor Swift. If only.

Buzz was the star. The draw. The name.

The reason why the checks were very, very good.

He was a radio jock in Chicago, working as the right hand man to Jonathan (Johnny B.) Brandmeier. This was in the early '80's. Johnny B. was one of the original "shock jocks" (Howard Stern wishes he was that cool) of radio, taking a page from the ultra-original Steve "Disco Demolition" Dahl playbook. He was a character. Wacky. Zany. Goofy. Silly. Didn't need to have strippers or tell fart jokes while on the air.

Johnny B. was that good, and hugely popular. Buzz was hugely popular, too, as a result.

Buzz plays harp (harmonica) and tends to favor the style of Sonny Boy Williamson. He knows the history of the music, and has a pretty large repertoire.

The band leader was Ron Shanaver. He plays guitar and sings.

...sat on their park bench like bookends*...

Ron and I go all the way back to 1989. We met at the Wise Fool's Pub, when it was one of the best blues clubs in Chicago. He was running the Tuesday night blues jam, using the Bubba band as the house band. He also managed the club. I was playing with the late, great L.C. Walker on Sundays. Even though I was 18, and underage, and just getting into the game, Ron let me hang at the club anytime.

Most likely because I brought a lot of friends on Sundays, typically a dead night for taverns. The bar usually had a good ring when I was playing. Sure, my friends were mostly underage too, but no matter. It was the '80's, when fun was still had without much guilt involved.

To make a long story short (and believe me, it's a very long story, the entire historical recollection and all) Ron and I developed an actual friendship (most of us musicians are more colleagues than friends, truth be told.) And when the drum chair became available (the previous drummer, though exceptional, was constantly late, which got him fired- hint, hint young playas,) Ron gave me the gig.

Like I said, that was around '93/'94. So the 25th anniversary show was only 15 years for me. Nevertheless.

...can you imagine us years from today*...

The show came in 2 parts. For the first hour, the Heirs of Moe performed. The Heirs is simply the Bubbas, sans Buzz. Ron had gotten the Heirs going during the waning days of the Bubbas, getting us extra work to keep our calendars full, without having to secure the money Buzz commanded. We didn't do a ton of gigs as the Heirs, but enough to get by. We played rock and roll: Blind Faith, Green Day, the Troggs, Leonard Cohen, Los Lobos, Bob Dylan, and a bunch of Neil Young tunes (Almost Cut My Hair, Ohio, Keep on Rockin' in the Free World.)

We had a blast playing those songs together, again. Ron, myself, and the bass player, "Dangerous" Dave Forte, had a couple of rehearsals, before the gig, in my kitchen. Good thing, too.

"How does that go again?" "What key is this in?" "Are you sure?"

These guys are all really good musicians, though, so we got our "sh-tuff" together quickly and efficiently, as we always had done. Never a worry (well, Dave worried, but that's just his m.o. It's not his fault.)

After the Heirs set, we morphed into the Bubbas. Buzz came up onstage, and it was deja-vu all over again. All of the songs came back like they had never left: Rainin' in My Heart, Walkin' the Dog, Walkin' Blues, Can't Sing the Blues in an Air-Conditioned Room, et al. We even did a coupla "new" ones like Dylan's Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat and Rainy Day Women #12 and #35 as if they were part of the previously regular repertoire.

The show was very, very good. The crowd was even better, giving us a call for a second encore (which, incidentally, Winfield's finest would not let us do. Hey, I wouldn't be me if I didn't rip on something, right?) Everybody had a good time. Personally, it was one of my favorite gigs of the year so far. I miss playing with those guys.

...how incredibly strange*...

So it goes...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Old Friends, lyrics by Paul Simon

An Open Letter to YOUR Representatives

2009-09-09T11:14:00.005-05:00

I've written a letter that you all should copy and then send to your senators and representatives. You can find all of their contact info here (senators), and here (house reps).

If you are concerned about the state of health care in the U.S., then it would be in your best interest to do this. I've done most of the work. This makes it extremely easy to be part of the chorus demanding real change.

Again, the contact info for the Senate is http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

For your House Reps, go to https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml
************************************************************************************

Senator Durbin,
I wanted to write you this quick letter, since the President will be addressing the nation on his health care "plans" tonight.

I find it unbelievably distressing that there may not be a so-called "public option" left on the table when all is said and done. This cannot be allowed to happen. We elected the people who are currently in office because this particular situation has gotten out of hand, and Americans will die in the street, regularly, if real reform is not accomplished. The insurance companies, by their very design, are a conflict of interest, and the best possible care available is unattainable if the bottom line (profit) is part of the equation. We're either giving total, appropriate care to those who need it, or we're not. This should not be a profit driven industry. Really, it should not be an industry at all. It should be not-for-profit across the board. A blogger that I enjoy reading has written extensively about the woeful health care in the U.S. in his blog:

http://mikerodbard.blogspot.com/2009/08/healthy-industry.html

Please read that post that I've sent the link for.

Anything short of a single-payer system is a failure, as far as I'm concerned. Having 60 dems in the senate was supposed to be a boon for the President's agenda, which, in fact, was the reason I voted for him (and other dems) and I feel that the opportunities we, as a people, voted for are falling by the wayside.

If these goals are not accomplished, then I will be forced to vote you out of office. I will be forced, in fact, to vote against every single person currently holding public office, dems and repubs alike. And I will be forced to use a loud voice in hopes that other voters will follow suit to vote all of you out.

Surely, you understand the gravity of all this, and will work with your congressional colleagues accordingly.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Mike Rodbard, Illinois resident and registered voter
************************************************************************************

So it goes...

Rock Band Rebels and Barry O.

2009-09-03T11:32:00.008-05:00

I've been listening to non-stop radio coverage about President Obama's planned, televised, speech next week. The day after Labor Day, in fact. He is going to be addressing school kids directly about that hot-button, partisan tainted, politically motivated issue:

The importance of education.

I know. I know. It's a polarizing topic (it is now, anyways.) After all, it's common knowledge, at this point, that the U.S. lags far (and sadly) behind most Western (capitalist) nations in terms of the quality of education.

Education is supposedly very important to Americans. Didn't our last president at least appear to try not to leave any children behind? I mean, he was in a classroom on 9/11. Of all places.

The importance of education, for those of you snoozing through the second paragraph.

So here's the short end of it. As I said, the President of the United States is going to make a speech on t.v. touting the importance of education. This speech is supposed to be aimed directly at students, during school hours.

Not surprisingly, schools across the nation will be showing it for the students. It seems kinda appropriate. You know, kids in school get to hear a speech from a sitting U.S president. An educational experience, no?

Allegedly, he'll be speaking of becoming smarter, more creative (gasp), and setting goals for yourself to become the best person you can be. Something to that effect, anyways.

Hardly a political ploy to advance any personal agendas. Propaganda? Sure, I guess. Although, any time a leader of anything opens his/her mouth about anything, I suppose that could be construed as propaganda.

Ahem.

Anyhoo, because of these planned words of wisdom and encouragement, parents are...what?

You guessed it: outraged.

The particular 50,000 watt blowhorn I'm listening to is citing Dallas, TX as a place where parents are expressing their outrage so strongly that schools are now making watching the speech optional, extending all the way to the teachers. A political speech in disguise, to be sure.

Optional for all. God bless Texas and the power of outrage.

In a country that is increasingly trying to legislate every. single. movement. that. we. make. or. think. about. making, I guess that we should just add this to the list. We now want our education to be clean and happy and sanitized. No harmful words or views or opinions will filter through our children's obviously under-developed (but well protected by the mandatory helmet) brains. Junior won't have to hear about real things about the real world from real people. We'll add to our shelter of protection for our little guy. Don't worry, little Billy or Sally, the nanny will protect you. Mommy's gotta run now to close that big real estate deal in the new, exclusive, gated community tucked away from the immigrants, the uninsured, and the, gulp, criminals (wink, wink) that don't have jobs and get Link cards while I work hard for my 97" plasma.

Now grab a juice box and go and watch your Lucky Charms commercial, you little fat ass. Maybe play a friendly game of World of Warcraft with your imaginary online friends afterwards.

And then maybe a little Rock Band.

After all, if you were in an actual rock band, the poor education you're receiving won't exactly give you inspiration (or fodder) to play or write anything interesting, and why would you want to be a musician anyways?

There's no money in that.

So it goes...

A Healthy Industry

2009-08-24T12:01:00.006-05:00

What do you do for a living?

Doctor? Lawyer? Banker? Car Salesman?

CEO of a major pharmaceutical company?

It doesn't really matter.

Not really.

As you know, faithful readers, I am a musician, and these pages are dedicated to the life and lifestyle of the working musician. I write about the positive and the negative aspects of my occupation; the trials and tribulations; righteous treatment and minor indignities.

The good, the bad, and the ugly (cue the music.)

However, just like the majority of you all (from what I've observed, anyways,) the main thing on my mind these days is health care and how to overhaul this shaky-at-best industry. Hence the lag time since my last diatribe of demonstrative drivel.

I haven't had the heart or the muse by my side to say anything. It all seemed irrelevant.

Now, I don't want to bore you with the gory details of the 1000-plus page health care reform bill that is sitting at the crossroads of America's future. You can read it yourself if you want (hey,you'd have a leg up over virtually all of our so-called (non) representatives in government- kudos to you and your tenacity.)

Better brew a few pots o' joe. It's gonna take a while.

My intention here is not to convince you of anything within the bill. Personally, I'm in favor of "Death Panels". I think it makes life just a bit more spicy.

(For those of you who can't seem to find your sense of humor, that was a joke.)

Rather, as a living instrument of providing pleasure, entertainment, and a general diversion from your everyday worries and concerns, my purpose is to remind you that we are all in this together and nobody, I mean NOBODY, is better than anyone else.

Something that I've been hearing a lot of, lately, is the fact that some people think that what they do in life holds a level of importance that is higher than other peoples' paths. I assume you've been noticing it too.

Productivity.

"I do such and such and I've been doing it for so many years, and I work hard, and why should so and so deserve what I have because so and so only does such and such and that's hardly fair."

The American mantra. Our, gasp, religion if you will. Money money money. The solver of problems and the root of all evil. The purveyor of flat-screen t.v.'s and thirst quencher for the taxman.

The bounty that gave you "Cash for Clunkers". How cute. I love the pet names we give things. Right up there with the "Passenger's Bill of Rights".

So who's more "productive"? Better yet, who's worthy? That seems to be the question. Is it the brain surgeon? The Wall Street exec.? The garbage man? The gremlin who spends the day writing parking tickets?

Maybe it's the web designer. Or the librarian. Or the taxicab driver.

Or the person who volunteers at the food pantry.

Seems to me that they are all valuable in one way or another. They all do their job, presumably well, and they live their lives.

This certainly holds true with me. I'm a highly trained, highly skilled specialist. Sure, I can't repair your frontal lobe (nor would you want me to), but you probably can't play a shuffle worthy of the price of admission (which is becoming free in more and more places.) Sounds trivial? Sure, on some level, I suppose, but it's a valid point. I've worked long and hard to be able to do what I do. I do it at a high level, and that cannot be trivialized.

My point is that we should all be able to go to the doctor (or dentist or shrink or marriage counselor.) There are too many resources in our once-great country for anybody to be left behind (another cute title; another bureaucratic failure.)

None of us should have to be concerned about life-long bankruptcy should something bad happen to us. None of us should be concerned that we had a cold once as a child and now, as an adult, we have pneumonia and it's suddenly a pre-existing condition.

There should be no fear of getting sick because of the cost (you're scared enough, now that your coughing blood.) The premise is un-Christian, un-Jewish, un-Muslim, un-Buddhist, and unkind. This kind of attitude will inevitably lead to people just dying in the streets. You think I'm kidding? This is where we're headed. Who lives and who dies? There will be no "Death Panels" deciding fates like this. It will be your senators, congressmen, governors, and presidents deciding these things.

Indirectly, of course, but that will be the result nonetheless.

And then there will be a revolution, violent and ugly. It most certainly WILL be televised too.

The only solution to all of this, of course, is to eliminate the pairing of "health" with "industry". Our health is not a commodity to be bought and sold. It certainly is not to be compromised for the benefit of someones profit. That's a conflict of interest. The rub, if you will. If the "industry" is concerned about turning a profit above all else, then your health, and your health care, is compromised. It doesn't matter what the wording of the bill or law is. If profit comes first, then you and your family do not.

Period.

So the single-payer, government run system is the only choice we have. We cannot, in good conscience, "reward" and "penalize" people based on their so-called contributions to society. Everyone is different, we all make different choices. The American way (allegedly) urges us to do our best and be our best. We teach our children that "if you put your mind to it, you can do anything and be anything you want to be."

Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and all that.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Follow up Calls

2009-08-05T12:03:00.004-05:00

Hello? Hello?

Did you hear that? Of course you didn't.

'Cause you didn't call me back.

One of the most annoying things that we musicians deal with is the lack of having our calls returned. Club owners, festival owners, wedding planners, etc., are regularly guilty of not calling you when they say they will. Even though their event is the largest thing going on in their worlds ("I've just been so crazy busy getting ready for the such and such event and I've only got 37 weeks left!) they, by and large, are not reachable by phone to take care of their own business.

Their own interests.

It's in our own interests, too, of course. We like to have dates secure in our calendar.

That translates to cash secure in our pocket.

Theirs too, presumably.

That being said, can anyone please tell me why, oh why, musicians would do that to other musicians?

As an aside, and obviously with some exceptions (a couple guys come to mind as of late, and you are hereby exempt from this rant. I'm happy to do that for you,) if you want to give me a gig, then give me a gig. Don't call to see if I'm available on that particular date and then tell me you'll get back to me because of some (irrelevant) extenuating circumstance.

I'm on the phone with you right now. Let's just take care of it. You needed someone and you called me. There must have been a reason for that, right?

Right.

If you must call me back, though (and I'm still willing to be available, hint hint,) then please do it. It was bad enough you had to waste your own time, for several days probably, getting the gig in the first place (incidentally, you still need a drummer.) Your fresh off of that particular minor indignity, so don't pass it along. Call me when you say you will, don't make me chase you down (it's your gig, remember? You should be so lucky that I'm the kind of guy that would stay on top of your affairs for my own interests.)

It's bad karma, and doesn't motivate me to spend a whole lot of time learning your tunes.

So it goes...

Be Happy and Gay- Market Days

2009-08-03T11:03:00.005-05:00

The band (BMR4) played Market Days, yesterday.

Boystown, Chicago style.

What a good time! I gotta say, I can't recall a gig where the BMR4 Solid Gold Dancers actually showed up. (There's a reality show in there somewhere.)

The Halsted St. Market Days festival is one of the best in the city. Just like any of the various city festivals throughout the summer, there was a lot of food and music and vendors peddling their wares.

The difference between this particular festival and all of the others is that Market Days draws a truly diverse crowd. Usually, on the North Side, the "mighty whitey" reigns supreme at these summer fetes. Such was the case of an unnamed "retro fest" that was a mere block from the home of yours truly.

That really says something about Chicago. You see, we Chicagoans tend to think that our city is diverse and international.

Except we're not.

Sure, there are representatives from hundreds of other countries and cultures located in Chicago. There are many languages, a lot of interesting food, et al. But as I've pointed out in previous posts, Chicago is still very much a racist city.

At Market Days, though, you'd never know it. You get all kinds of people: gay (the dominating group, natch), straight, black, white, boys, girls, Latino, Asian, Democrats, "greenies", and even the usually-despicable Republicans.

Sure, they're welcome too.

And you know what? Everybody got along swimmingly (likely, the appearance of the Village People played a strong part in the harmonious vibes and good karma.) I didn't see any fights, I didn't notice any thick-necked frat boys being obnoxiously loud and, well, obnoxious. I didn't hear anybody complaining about activities that other festival-goers were indulging in (use your imaginations, you dirty dogs.)

I saw one guy sitting up against a street light and, um, napping. He was covered in dry puke; pretty sure it was his own. So he was obviously sitting there for quite a while.

Nobody hassled him, even (although we all had that, "Poor bastard," thought going through our collective heads, I'm sure.)

Even the police presence was minimal, it seemed (for Chicago standards, anyways.)

Isn't it ironic that the gay population (not only in Chicago, but all over,) an oftentimes persecuted group of people, throws the best parties (if you are of the gay population, I suppose you wouldn't call it ironic. Normal is probably a better word.) I mean, gay people party with reckless abandon. I don't think that any other group can claim that accolade any more. So long as blood is not drawn (unwillingly, anyways,) you can do what you want in the gay community. Nobody cares.

Everyone, seemingly, gets it.

I find it funny, for sure. After all, I'm in the biological white guy club, I just don't subscribe to a lot of "our" propaganda. Rules for having a good time? Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign? Stay within the barbed-wire fenced in area? No smoking here? No drinking there? God forbid there's a little weed floating around. And aren't you just a little too happy? Please, you're an embarrassment.

This has everything to do with my profession of choice. As a musician, I've seen the changes in attitude over the last decade in terms of the people coming out to have a "good time". As a result, I've seen the results of the change in attitudes. When I was a young pup coming up through the ranks, most people still knew how to have a good freak out. Music clubs were full all the time. People came out eagerly (yes, yes, I know that it's always been tough to get people to come to your show) and regularly.

Regularly is the key word, I think.

Do kids even have fake id's anymore, or has everyone become just completely addicted to Guitar Hero instead of actual guitar heroes (or are you just petrified of having "youthful indiscretions" on your "permanent record"?)

Since the regularity factor is taken out of the equation, and since there are so many rules to follow, attendance has taken a steady nose dive. Clubs that were hoppin' are now scaling back, whether it's the money the musicians make, or just the number of days the club has music. A lot of festivals have cut their budgets, cut the number of days (hmmm, the Chicago Blues and Jazz fests come to mind,) or just quit altogether.

Sure, the economy is bad, but the laissez faire attitude of so-called party people is worse.

This is a big and diverse world that we live in. Don't forget how to have fun and be happy and gay. People certainly haven't in Boystown.

So it goes...

Where Do We Go From Here?

2009-07-27T15:15:00.007-05:00

Over the weekend I did 3, count 'em, 3 big shows.

Not shoes, as (rock royalty) Ed Sullivan would have said.

I had 3 gigs and it was nice. The venues were pretty cool, the guys (and gals) I worked with were nice, and the insurance and utility companies have been satisfied for yet another month (do they work as hard? I wonder.)

There was, however, something missing that I couldn't quite place. An odd feeling, really. But then it hit me, after reading a letter from a club owner that is now out of business. His take on the industry was right on, and I found myself reflecting on my own life as a pro.

The first gig of the weekend was just a restaurant gig, a money gig.

A boring gig.

We need these, let's face it.

I did a duo show with a piano player. This particular venue used to employ quartets. Then trios, and now they've downsized to duos. Plus you have to pay for parking (downtown, ouch) and there is no drink deal for the musicians (not that it's absolutely necessary to drink at work. Or is it?) So really, the money gig was not that much money (although it was good enough, as they say, whoever they are.)

At least the gig still exists, although I wonder why, considering how oblivious the audience was (mostly) to us. Now I know that the people are there for dinner and drinks and trying to get some and all, but, tell me, how can you just ignore someone standing in front of you jumping up and down waving their arms in a frenzy. Even if you're not interested, you must know we're there, right?

Maybe not.

There was a woman sitting at a front table, eating dinner, reading a book, and actually listening to her I-pod while we were playing.

No kidding.

The next night was at a club. A large and well-known music club, at that. Capacity for the joint was around 250 patrons, but only about 100 showed up. One could blame the weather (it was beautiful) or the multitude of free things going on in the city, like Venetian Night, or the Lincoln Fest, or the Wicker Park fest, or whatever.

The size of the crowd was irrelevant, though. Rather, it was their attitude which was nothing short of blase. Sure, all in all a good time was had by all, and the show was very good and everything. But the people seemed very... I don't really know what they seemed like. But I had the feeling that they would have been just as happy sitting with a drink and listening to the radio.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with that, but at 15 bucks a pop...at least it's cheaper than a Jonas Brothers concert. Wanna know how they justify their costs?

Finally, I capped the weekend with an outdoor performance at a suburban village town hall. It was a beautiful venue, with tall trees, lush grass, and thousands of fairy lights all around, giving off an abundance of soft, pleasing illumination. People came out to see us, several hundred strong, with picnic baskets, lawn chairs, and libations in tow. Finally, a seemingly attentive, and therefore attractive, audience.

Hooray. Incentive to give a good show. I was ready for some real action.

The sound guys were terrible, though. Their incompetence was nothing compared to their nonchalant attitude towards actually getting the sound right. It was almost like they were phoning it in.

Buzz kill.

So now you've made it this far, and you're probably thinking, "But what about this letter you mentioned earlier?"

Glad you asked.

I was feeling down about the events of the weekend, and this guy just made things very clear to me. Here are a few samples:

"Dear Friends:

Ever since the creation of the (club), it was my sole intention to do nothing more, or less, than present the finest contemporary artists in this country, on the best stages and in the most pleasant halls.

The scene has changed and, in the long run, we are all to one degree or another at fault. All that I know is that what exists now is not what we started with, and what I see around me now does not seem to be a logical, creative extension of that beginning. Therefore, I am taking this opportunity to announce the closing of the (club), and my eventual withdrawal from producing concerts."

You can see why this caught my eye. He continues with his reasons for closing down:

"1) The unreasonable and totally destructive inflation of the live concert scene. Two years ago... I associated with and employed "musicians." Now, more often than not, its with "officers and stockholders" in large corporations - only they happen to have long hair and play guitars. I acknowledge their success, but condemn what that success has done to some of them. I continue to deplore the exploitation of the gigantic-hall concerts, many of them with high-priced tickets. The sole incentive of too many has simply become money. The conditions for such performances, besides lacking intimacy, are professionally impossible according to my standards.

2) I had always hoped to be able to present artists whose musical worth I felt was important: artists whose music was valid, whether commercially popular or not. There are more quality artists today; but many of those that do exist do not appear in public regularly. Therefore, in order to stay in business, I would be forced to present acts whose musicality fell below my personal expectations and demands. I could do this, and in having to book fifty-two weeks a year it becomes tempting because it is so much easier to do. Thousands might even to come to these concerts, but I personally would prefer not to present them. For who would gain?

3) With all due respect for the role they play in securing work for the artists, the agents have created a new rock game called "packaging"; which means simply that if the (club) wants a major headliner, then we are often forced to take the second and/or third act that the agent or manager insists upon, whether or not we would take pride in presenting them, and whether or not such an act even belongs on that particular show. To do so would be to relinquish the essential responsibility of being a producer, and this I will not do.

4) In the early days of (the club), the level of audience seemed much higher in terms of musical sophistication. Now there are too many screams for "More" with total disregard for whether or not there was any musical quality.

I sincerely thank the artists and business associates who contributed to our success. But, I warn the public to watch carefully for what the future will bring.

The rock scene in this country was created by a need felt by the people, expressed by the musicians, and, I hope, aided to some degree by the efforts of the (club). But whatever has become of that scene, wherever it turned into the music industry of festivals, 20,000-seat halls, miserable production quality, and second-rate promoters - however it went wrong - please, each of you, stop and think whether or not you allowed it, whether or not you supported it regardless of how little you received in return.

I am not pleased with this "music industry." I am disappointed with many of the musicians working in it, and I am shocked at the nature of the millions of people who support that "industry" without asking why. I am not assured that the situation will improve in the future."

So where DO we go from here? If any of you have something to contribute, please share it. I, for one, want to know what happened.

This letter, by the way, was written by Bill Graham in 1971, and published in the Village Voice on May 6th of that same year. The "(club)" was, of course, the Filmore, East and West.

So it goes...

Another Blue Monday

2009-07-21T15:41:00.005-05:00

Another Monday night at Buddy Guy's Legends.

The Blue Monday Jam session, don't you know. And as usual, there was a slew of characters that showed up. Holly "Thee" Maxwell was giving lessons on how she don't need no instant breakfast, done up with a huge blonde wig, a bright red (and big) bra that doubled as a shirt (?), black capri's, and a blue doo-rag.

Paul "Harmonica" Hanover was there.

Buddy himself was there, holding court at the bar with all sorts of well-wishers, autograph seekers, and hangers-on. He had said that he had just flown in from Denver from a gig he had the night before.

His arms must have been very tired. Hopefully his guitar was not destroyed by the airline.

As usual, he did not take the stage at any point in the night.

Tommy McCracken, the black Elvis, was a no-show. It's been a while since I've seen Tommy and his unforgettable vocal stylings (and unprecedented dance moves) on "Have You Ever Seen a One-Eyed Woman Cry?" I know that he's been out and about doing some things, most recently at the Slippery Noodle in Indianapolis (thanks to fellow drummer Robert Pasenko for the news- I'm guessing you did those gigs with him.) I'd like to see him again sooner rather than later. He makes the night interesting, to say the least.

Not too many surprises last night, as you have surely figured out by now.

What was a surprise though, was that the dashingly handsome and exuberant drummer known as Yours Truly (it's me, it's me!) took the stage at the end of the night as the front-man and vocalist.

That's right: I sang. Sure, I had played drums earlier in the evening with a less than memorable quintet (maybe it was a quartet, who knows at this point, a hazy day later.) I enjoyed it and all, but it didn't really scratch the itch. So I decided to ask Brother John Kattke, our gracious host, if I could sing one to finish the night. It was, after all, about 130am, and letting me get up there to howl wasn't going to cost anyone their job (although you would think that that was a possibility 'cuz you usually shouldn't let the drummer sing unless it's Levon Helm or Karen Carpenter.)

I've always wanted to be the front guy, because I like to ham it up (just in case you hadn't noticed.) I also really enjoy singing, and know the words to more tunes than, seemingly, most people.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: You gotta learn songs.

I'm not a good singer, by any means. But I am a good performer, I bring the right amount of attitude, and I have no fear of the audience. Plus, it was 130am, so...

You can fill in the blanks.

I actually did a better than respectable job. The tune I chose was B.B. King's version of "Let the Good Times Roll". It's a standard up-tempo swing-shuffle with a few breaks in the last verse, for those of you that have never had an audience with the King. Nothing over the top or difficult to be sure.

I also don't sound at all like B.B. King, to be sure.

But it was rockin'. My man Bret Dale was on the lead guitar, Doug Corcoran was on keys, and Dave Russell was the drummer. As for the bass player and the second guitar man, I have no idea who they were. That's the beauty of the Monday Jam at Legends. You just don't know who you'll be teamed up with (like I said, the group I was with earlier in the night kinda stunk.) But these guys were solid and paid attention to all my cues and antics and everything they were supposed to be doing.

It was fun. It was ridiculous. It was exhilarating.

Another reminder of the joys of being a musician.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series: Get a Contract

2009-07-16T22:06:00.005-05:00

I had a corporate gig tonight at one of the museums in the city. Those are pretty sweet gigs: usually only a few hours, you get fed, and the pay is (generally) very good.

Having weekday work is nice too. Especially private weekday work.

Unfortunately, for the client, there was rain.

Heavy rain.

A tree was ripped from the ground, roots and all.

No joke.

As I said, it was unfortunate for the client. Not for us though. Why is that, you ask? Because we had a contract. And the contract said that payment in full is expected rain or shine.

That's the chance you (meaning the client/promoter/party planner) take when you want live music outside. And if there is not adequate cover or protection (water and electricity just don't mix), well then the show's over.

There were no problems or hurt feelings.

I know, I know. It sounds simple. Even mundane. A no brainer.

Yet there are too many cats out there that aren't taking the time to bother, for whatever reasons.

Protect yourself and, more importantly, your gear. Don't be afraid to broach the subject.

Nothing personal. Nothing malicious.

Just the price of doing business.

So it goes...

Elvin, Mavis, Lonnie, and...Westmont?

2009-07-15T12:19:00.009-05:00

Well, the never-ending tour of the Lonnie Brooks Blues Band took us to Lake Tahoe, NV and fabulous Westmont, IL this past weekend.

Consecutive days, no less.

Whew.

You know, the joys of early-morning flights, with connections, originating out of O'hare.

Actually, the travel itself went surprisingly swimmingly (nice little summer motif, eh?.) All, and when I say "all" I mean all, of the flights departed and arrived on time. Four legs round trip. And not only is O'hare notorious for always having delays, but the Denver airport has the same bad rap as well.

Optimism was low, to say the least.

But all was well. We left Chicago at 6 am and arrived at our digs in Tahoe (a 70 mile drive, on winding mountain roads from Reno to Tahoe, for those of you who were wondering) around 1pm.

As an aside, we were picked up at the airport in a stretch Lincoln SUV, complete with a full bar, t.v., stereo, and snacks (can't forget about the snacks.) The rock and roll fantasy for sure. But hey, we were working one of the casino resorts out there. It's not like they're going broke.

Might as well go for broke.

For us especially.

(Don't you know whom we is?)

Anyways, back to the gig (you don't even want to know about the actual accommodations. Hoo boy. Ahem.) The show, billed as Blues on the Lake, was in an outdoor amphitheater set up in one of the parking lots. It held 7500, and the mountains circled the area (we were in a valley, after all.) All the stops were pulled out: big stage, big sound, big lights, quality (are you kidding me?) back line, and a competent (are you really kidding me?) crew.

Did I mention that casinos don't go broke?

As for the show, it was a chart topper. There were 3 acts.

First was Elvin Bishop, one of the great guitar slingers. I gotta say, he looked very rough around the edges. At the same time, he looked exactly like you'd think, with his scraggly and curly salt and pepper hair and the goofy overalls. Forty-five years in the biz will do that to a man I guess. But he played his ass off, despite not playing the biggest hit of his career (the cheezy, yet extremely lucrative, Grammy winning, used in a Harold and Kumar movie, Fooled Around and Fell in Love.) He played his set loud and proud, his band right there with him, showing the fire he still has since his early days as a member of the Butterfield Blues Band.

Next up was Mavis Staples. She's been in the game for almost 60 years. You wouldn't know it from looking at her, though, despite the fact that it was her 70th birthday that night. She was very elegant looking in her sequined top and dark slacks, ever the professional with the clothes to match.

Note to young players out there: Dress for the damn gig, would you?

She had a four piece band with her (not the regular guys I'm used to seeing. Hmm.) as well as a trio of backup singers, one of which was her sister. If you were looking for a blues show from her, you would have been sadly disappointed.

You would also be pegged as obviously never seeing Ms. Mavis perform before. She's got too rich of a catalog to stick to just blues.

Sure, there was a little blues, but she was very diverse in her set, pulling out a lot of tunes from her most recent album Hope at the Hideout (ANTI-), including Alice Wine's Keep Your Eyes on the Prize, Stephen Stills' For What It's Worth, and the ever popular I'll Take You There.

She even did The Band's The Weight.

Mavis was supposed to do 50 minutes and ended up doing 90. So much for keeping the schedule the promoters were so desperately trying to adhere to. And with our hotel pick-up being 3am to go back to the Reno airport...

Whatever.

Our turn.

The set was to be a little unusual tonight. Before bringing Lonnie up, we had Jimmy Johnson as a special guest. Jimmy is one of the elder statesman; 8o I've been told. He's got a lot of taste and smoothness in his guitar playing. Not a lot of notes, and certainly not a lot of flash. He just plays the blues. But he's very compelling. He sings as well as he plays, and doesn't add a lot of unnecessary filler to his tunes. Very no-nonsense. Jimmy was supposed to only do 15 minutes. Two tunes, really.

He did half an hour.

After Jimmy, we brought up Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater, sans headdress. Like Jimmy, he was supposed to do just a couple of tunes in 15 minutes. He ended up doing 4 in 30 minutes.

Whose idea was it to have those guys play such short sets, anyways. I mean, 15 minutes? C'mon.

So now it's time to bring Lonnie up. By this point, it's about 1030, our scheduled ending time. Mavis ran way over, Jimmy and Eddy ran over, and we've been travelling and moving non-stop since 3am (really 1am when you take into account that we had to adjust to Pacific Time.)

We should be done, but we're just getting fired up.

For those of you that have seen Lonnie over the years, then you know as well as I do that Lonnie is not gonna just come up for 30 minutes and do his thing and leave. It's not in his make-up.

We started the set with Voodoo Daddy, one of the signature classics, and an unusual choice for the first song of the set. Brooks wanted to do it up, though, having to follow Mavis like that.

He certainly didn't disappoint.
Eyeballin', You Know What My Body Needs, all the hits. His voice was strong, and his guitar chops were equally sharp. Lonnie's style is very unique, and when he's on, there's nobody better.

So as you'd expect, we did about an hour and then brought Eddy and Jimmy back up to finish the night.

Sweet Home Chicago.

Ugh. I know that the crowds love that song and all, and that will probably always be the case, and we'll happily oblige, but I, for one, never need to play it again.

At least I get to do it with Brooks, though. He does it better than anyone.

By the time we finish doing the glad-handing and the photos and all that stuff, it's about 1230 when we're ready to make the quick walk back to the hotel. Our pick-up is in just a few hours, we have to do all of the travelling we just did, only in reverse, and then be ready for our show the next night in Westmont, IL.

Muddy Waters' hometown for the last 15 years or so of his life.

So the fellas and I did what any self-respecting travelling circus would do when there's only 2 hours to go and going to bed is a silly notion at this point.

Remember, we were in a casino.

So it goes...

The Dreaded Fly-Gig

2009-07-09T09:07:00.010-05:00

This weekend, the never ending tour of the Lonnie Brooks Blues Band will take me to fabulous Lake Tahoe, NV.

We'll fly in, do the show, and then leave the next morning to head back for a gig here in town.

On paper (or your digital screen), it sounds kind of exotic. Sexy even.

On one level, it is. After all, I'll be in Tahoe, albeit for less than 24 hours. And I'll be sharing the stage with some great musicians: Eddy "the Chief" Clearwater, Jimmy "the Bar Room Preacher" Johnson, Elvin "Fooled Around and Fell in Love" Bishop, and Mavis "Respect Yourself" Staples. The gig is in an outdoor amphitheater, at a large casino (poker anyone?), and we're getting cash.

It'll be so tempting to put it all on "Red."

I'm sure there's a pool AND a hot tub. Hot diggity-dog.

On another level, though, it will hardly be the "Days of Wine and Roses."

Flying is rough enough as it is these days, with the taking off of the shoes, the shaving cream and toothpaste in the zipper bag (can't say Ziploc due to copyright infringements which certainly gives me a strong, false sense of security), and the general dour attitude of airline/airport workers.

After all, in this post-9/11 country, you simply look guilty of something.

I've written before about the effect that life's "minor indignities" has on me.

I can't stand them.

Especially in airports, and especially when they come from people who clearly are low scorer's on the intelligence scale (how many airport workers are there, anyways, who have no H.S. diploma in concert with extensive criminal backgrounds?)

Almost inevitably, there will be issues with the guitars and bringing them on board into the cabin. You see, guitars generally fit in the overhead compartments, which are quite roomy (if the other passengers are able to find their modicum of good manners and don't just throw their crap up there all willy-nilly and spread out with no consideration for anyone else.) This is a fact. I've been doing this long enough to know how it is.

I don't even play guitar.

However, the flight attendants (waitresses) usually express disbelief when we board the plane, guitars in hand. More times than not, they're "sure" that the instruments won't fit and they'll need to be checked. As if they've never seen someone bring a guitar on board.

More times than not, they're dead wrong.

Sometimes, though, they're (gasp) right. The gear won't fit. This is especially true with small prop/commuter planes. So you're forced to check the instruments.

That is where fear is struck. You are at their mercy, knowing well in advance that they just.

Don't.

Give.

A.

Damn.

About you or your stuff. Why should they? You paid your fare in advance, and good luck getting compensation should something happen to your $5000 Les Paul. Nobody within the airline, from the lowest baggage handler to the highest levels of upper management, will be inclined to take responsibility for anything. They will run you around in circles, with the hope being that you'll just give up one day due to lack of time or legal resources or both.

There is a musician from Nova Scotia, Canada, by the name of Dave Carroll, who experienced this familiar tale of woe. United Airlines (that's who I'll be flying on Saturday- hooray!) broke his guitar.

They actually compensated him for his repairs, but only after he made a video lambasting the company and posted it on You Tube.

It's called, appropriately, "United Breaks Guitars."

The video, as many of you may know at this point, went viral (that means it's a smash hit, no pun intended). United had no choice but to bow to the PR goddess and save face and fix the gear. How generous of them.

Only took a year.

Can't wait to go to Tahoe.

So it goes...

The Weirdo Club

2009-07-08T14:17:00.005-05:00

I've been stuck trying to think about what to write, as my faithful (hopefully) readers are champing at the bit for something new, brilliant, witty, and utterly me.

So many things, and yet nothing at all.

Kinda weird.

Yet, that's what makes musicians (and writers and actors and other artists) who and what we are.

Above everything else, we're weirdos.

Societal misfits.

Not exactly cut from the same cloth as so many people seemingly are. We'd never make it in the 9-5, 2 weeks a year off, grind like most folks do.

Of course, we give up things like health care and home ownership in the process, but so be it. To us (to me, anyways) it's sort of a fair trade. We get to do what we do (and let's face it, I don't know what you do to get by, but I'm sure you do it better than anyone else) and that's that.

Sometimes, though, the work involved in being a musician (artist, et al) actually makes me kinda lazy. Right now, I have a lot to do, a lot to be done, and yet I feel very inclined to do none of it.

Things like sending emails to festival coordinators. Reminders to "fans" that there are shows coming up. Adding people to various "lists".

Practicing (ahem.)

It's so easy to NOT practice. Jeez.

A luxury and a curse, being among the self/un-employed.

Weirdos are we.

At least we're in good company though. David Bowie is certainly a weirdo. Ditto for Jackson Pollock. James Brown, too.

Michael Jackson was definitely a weirdo.

Bob Dylan has created an entire genre of music. It's not rock, it's not blues, it's not folk. He was given a Pulitzer Prize in a category created just for him because he didn't fit in any single category, and if anyone deserves to "win" a Pulitzer, it's Dylan.

Weirdo.

So where am I going with this?

Oh, yeah. What to do with the time in my struggle for blogging ideas. Well, it's very simple. Since we are the lowest paid of public servants (of course we are, in the truest sense), I suggest that we all make our own salad dressing. I saw an article (an entire article! Can you friggin' believe it?) in today's Sun-Times espousing the virtues of DIY salad dressing. It actually saves you a lot of bread. I encourage you to do it. I've been doing it for years.

Did he just give advice about salad dressing?

Weirdo.

So it goes...

Music on the Move- Madrid?

2009-07-01T12:10:00.009-05:00

In my musician's life as the (always trying to be) consummate professional, the gigs I have allow me to travel all over the world.

All of you regular readers surely know this (and are no doubt sick of hearing about it, too.)

Sometimes, the trips (within the States, usually) are boring and less-than-glorious, usually because our accommodations are in the middle of Nowhere, ID, with nary a sign of, well, anything (except for maybe the Sam's Club parking lot right outside my window at the Super 8.) Promoters will generally put the band up in the cheapest (and least expensive) place that's possible. It's almost always many miles outside of the town we're actually working in. And since we are relying on the gig for all of our ground transportation (forget your public options- there are none), we essentially end up stuck at the hotel doing nada.

Not exactly the best way to get geared up for a show (if you've ever wondered just how so many musicians can end up as alcoholics and drug addicts, well...)

Sometimes, though, it's completely amazing and mind blowing. Usually it's an overseas trip. That's where I have the most fun, European countries in particular. We almost always stay in the center of whatever town we're in, there's plenty to do, and there's plenty of public transportation (very inexpensive, too.)

So whenever I cross the sea, I'm usually thinking about what it would be like to live there. It's very different over there than it is here, and there are so many things that are appealing to my sensibilities.

Mainly, it's the fact that Europeans are so much more relaxed than Americans, working to live, rather than living to work (note to the powers-that-be: universal health care, and not insurance, is a key reason for that enviable attitude towards life.)

Here, in Chicago, I've got it pretty good, I must admit. I get to play with Lonnie Brooks, one of the last of the great Chicago blues men. He's the one that always takes me on the road. It's going on 8 years now, and I've played around 500 shows with him. I also get to play with BMR4, one of the best, most working jazz groups that you'll find almost anywhere. Not only are the guys in this group top-notch, but they're also my friends, which is who we all really want to play with anyways.

Chicago has a lot to offer a musician. There's a lot of work here for us.

This city also does everything that it can to make life very inconvenient for it's citizens, whether it's taxes (highest in the nation), scandalous corruption, parking meter fees that have quadrupled, or simply winter.

Just as an aside, the guy on the radio right now is ripping the city apart, talking about selling naming rights for everything under the sun, as Chicago desperately needs cash as a result of dismal city management:

"Rename the expressways. The Planetarium. The Aquarium."

"The Oxy-Clean Aquarium in honor of the late Billy Mays. It's easy to get to, plenty of parking (since nobody wants to pay the damn meters), and just off of that famous road, IKEA's Lake Shore Drive.)

So what would it be like, then, living overseas? For a guy like me, I mean. Could I actually do it over there? A certain girl in my life sure seems to think it's easy.

I tend to think it's easier said than done.

But then again...

I've been to Spain twice, now, within the last 3 months. It's an impressive country, to say the least. Inland or on the Mediterranean coast, the country is beautiful. You can go everywhere by train or bus without it costing a fortune. They're quick, they're very clean, and they're always on time. There's no screwing around, there.

Madrid is undoubtedly my favorite city. It's not as international, as European, as Barcelona is. It's not as expensive either (Barcelona is on par with London in terms of cost of Living, meaning sky high.) No, Madrid is very much a Spanish city. I was really impressed with the people, the food (oh, the food, yum,) the architecture, everything.

Businesses (almost all of them) close between 2pm and 5pm for siesta. People are very relaxed and seemingly happy with life.

Personal freedoms seem to not be constantly and incessantly legislated (the United States of No).

Cops seem to not come off as jack-booted thugs.

You can still smoke in bars.

Loved it.

Maybe this is the place.

I had been told ( I was asking around before I had left Chicago) that Madrid is not really a music town. It was a late-night town, to be sure, but not so much for live music. DJ's and dance clubs were the thing, with live shows going (gone) by the wayside.

That turned out to be not the case. In fact, I went out every single night I was there and saw a show. It seems that you'll find the live shows between 11pm and 1am, and then the clubs become DJ spinning night clubs.

Seemingly the best of both worlds.

One night it was a big band at a place called Bar Co., where hash smoking is overlooked, but being barefoot is not. Another night it was blues at a club called Junco. The group (Juan Bourbon, Juan Scotch, and Juan Beer- seriously) was a very traditional 4-piece, fronted by a harp (harmonica) player, nailing all the tunes from the likes of Junior Wells and Sunnyland Slim note for note (Europeans actually tend to learn songs from the records, I've come to learn, very much like the Japanese blues players.)

I saw flamenco music at a small taverna in the wee hours of the morning, the audience consisting of me and my ex-pat (white) friends and a group of around 25 hairy Spanish Gypsies (I looked the part, though, ahem.) There were 2 men singing and one other playing guitar. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this music was nothing more than Spanish blues. There was a repeating form in the music and the words were obviously improvised. The players were fierce and passionate. Truly, this was one of the most unique concerts I'd ever seen. And it wasn't even a concert. It was very informal (of course it was, it was 3am!)

All of the performances I saw were very well attended, and I was out and about during the week, not the weekend. People were obviously very much into seeing live music.

I also found a "roots and grooves" jam session at a cool place called La Boca del Lobo (the mouth of the wolf- sweet.) I gotta say, it was on par with the jam sessions that I go to at Buddy Guy's Legends, albeit with the European perspective of the blues. There were a lot of players that had shown up, and for the most part, they were all pretty good. Certainly better than serviceable. Plus, there was not a whole lot of attitude oozing from musicians that you are apt to find at Buddy's.

I got to play a lot that night. After all, I was the only American there, and from Chicago, no less. The Spaniards were as excited to have me there as I was just being. Needless to say, I am fortunate to be able to carry a certain mystique with me, being in that "drummer from Chicago" category.

Big fish in a small pond, you know?

It was actually a very diverse group of folks and not just Spaniards. I met a bass player from Argentina and a singer/guitar player that came from Paris (she was real good.) We all had James Brown and Albert Collins in common, so we were able to have a real good time together.

We talked about the scene in Madrid over cocktails bought for me by the host of the jam ("That was in-cred-eeeeeee-bul.")

They, of course, were wondering about what work was like in the U.S.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Health Care

2009-06-29T09:45:00.005-05:00

Most musicians, as you know (since my audience seems to be primarily musicians) have very poor, if any, health insurance. For those of us who have seemingly good (enough) fortune, myself included, to be able to buy insurance, well, I guess we're "lucky".

Kinda like the politicians that are making the tough decisions for us: Lucky.

Lucky to have a job at all, that is, since something like 50% (give or take) of the populace doesn't seem to bother to vote. (I used to not understand that at all, but when the betrayal from our so-called-leaders is so rampant, the notion just seems that much less unfathomable.)

These chuckleheads have the nerve to tout the greatest health care in the world here in the trusty U.S. of A, where freedom and civil rights are fleeting more and more with each passing day (weapons check points at the Taste (Waste) of Chicago anyone?)

"A single payer system will be a disaster," is what we are being told.

Try telling that to the 45 million or so Americans that have no coverage (and no, being able to go to the E.R. at County, excuse me, Stroger Hospital, does not count as sufficient.)

That being said, any pol who votes against any real health care reform should be forced to give up their own, precious, single payer, socialist-by-design health policy and be forced to fend for themselves: buy your own policy, and be taxed on it (that's right, since I pay myself, the money used to pay the bill is after-tax dough.)

The best health care in the world carries no meaning if the majority of the population can't access it.

So it goes...

Work Hard, Play Hard

2009-06-23T11:32:00.005-05:00

Well, life with (Lonnie) Brooks has brought me over the pond and back.

That's the Atlantic Ocean, for those of you that have yet to have that first cup of coffee.

The tour was a blast. Spain is a glorious country, and Madrid is high on the list of places to live in the (near) future. It's very relaxed and low-key, there are a lot of musicians, and seemingly many places to play.

Plus beer is cheaper than Coca-Cola.

The trip was also a lot of work, as overseas tours usually are. There are flights to catch, customs officials to deal with (the U.S., by the way takes the cake in terms of jack-booted thugs. No shoe removal necessary in Barajas International), mediocre sound guys and gear to "work" with, and promoters to please (one more song? sure. why not? we've only been on stage for 2 hours and it's 90 degrees outside. dinner's still not for another hour you say?)

Sleep is usually at a premium (5 am pick-ups in the hotel lobby are the norm.)

That being said, coming back is always a culture shock. Not only does it suck to have to come back from fantasy land, but it's gross and disgusting having to change your clothes in a bathroom stall in some crappy bar.

Like I said, it's work.

I recently got an email from a fellow pro and scribe, Steve Hashimoto, one of the best bass players in town. Perhaps you know him. He writes the weekly "News from the Trenches", his own little platform for rants and raves and songs and praises (and looking for gigs like the rest of us.) I wanted to share this with all of you who might be working while I'm playing:

"...perhaps a reason why people see what we musicians do as play rather than work is that we make music for pleasure, or for no payment, as often, if not more, than we do for compensation. To paraphrase, “You don’t see plumbers having jam sessions”, a concept that I found highly amusing. Which, of course, begs the question, why don’t musicians (or all artists, for that matter) get paid BETTER than any other trade, or skill? We artists, whether in the fields of music, visual arts, literary arts, dance or acting, generally work constantly to improve our skills, practicing, rehearsing, experimenting, working on new techniques, honing old ones, and yet people get all bent out of shape when we try to charge what a plumber or doctor or electrician charges for a comparable amount of billable time. As usual, my belief is that it all comes down to culture and education – if all of America’s schools, whatever level, were a bit more forceful about teaching the sheer work ethic involved in the arts, maybe we’d have less artists (scared away), but better respect for those who stick it out. Because I do think that America, for all of its cultural shortcomings, does respect hard work. And maybe this is as good a reason as any to call what we do work– it is, after all, work, and hard work, and maybe we do ourselves a disservice by trying to pass it off as being easy, as it being something that just “comes” to us, mystically."

Well said, Steve.

We keep on keeping on.

So it goes...

On the Road w/ Lonnie Brooks

2009-06-14T07:27:00.005-05:00

The seemingly never ending Lonnie Brooks tour has taken us back to the glorious European "destinacion" of Spain. The first show was a festival in the northern town of Getxo.

One of my faves.

Sadly, Koko Taylor was supposed to be on the bill (also one of my all time faves.) We really missed her.

Luckily, the powers that be were able to put together an exceptional fill-in bill. I say fill-in because you can't replace the Queen.

In her royal absence, it took three people to fill her spot: E.C. Scott, a powerful West-Coast singer, along with the incomprable Henry Butler on piano, and Kenny Neal playing guitar, harp, and singing. Both of those guys are from down in Louisiana, New Orleans and Baton Rouge respectively.

Of course the Blues Machine was still the backing band, with Shun Kikuta and Mike Wheeler on guitars, "Pooky Styx" on drums, and the rock-solid Melvin Smith holding down the bass chair. I gotta say, these fellas really rose to the occasion for the show. They were clearly down and perhaps a bit lost because their blues mama was not there.

Shun and Melvin, especially. They were with her for what seems like ages.

We had to miss her funeral because of the tour, something that we weren't exactly happy about. But, somehow, we all knew (and know) that she would have it no other way.

That being said, the festival was extraordinary. It was 2 nights, with Brooks and Co. headlining the first, and the Blues Machine on the second. Both nights were packed and rowdy (5000 strong per night, and Getxo is a small town, really) and ready for some great music that is so very well appreciated in the Old World (the U.S. could really stand to take a page out of that handbook- Europeans really love live, American music).

Particularly the blues.

Lonnie killed 'em the first night. The show was a marathon, nearly 3 hours ("I've got blisters on my fingers"- J.Lennon.) He put that voodoo spell on the people like always, his Gibson screaming and his voice in fine form. We even pulled out a few tunes that hadn't been played in quite a while, Voodoo Daddy in particular. Kenny joined us onstage for the last few tunes, "All My Money Back", "Inflation", and the crowd pleasing "Something You Got."

The last few tunes lasted about an hour past our scheduled time. So it goes when you're playing an audience for the Queen.

("What are you guys, the Grateful Dead or something?")

The second night was more of the same. Koko's band came out and played 3 cuts before E.C took the stage to sing a few. Henry was next to front the band, followed by Kenny.

Rockin' good time. People were freaking out, erupting in a wash of sound that could only be described as thunderous.

Then came the goods. The band started "Wang Dang Doodle", Koko's signature cut (read: bread and butter.) E.C and Henry came back out to join in on the action. So did Lonnie. So did the rest of the Brooks crew, yours truly included. We were all onstage singing and playing together. The crowd was in the palm of our hands and was not going anywhere. We got the whole place singing the chorus, almost like a mantra:

"All night long, all night long. We gonna pinch a Wang Dang Doodle all night long."

Every great gig comes to an end eventually. Sometimes mercifully. Sometimes happily.

Sometimes you don't want it to stop.

"All night long."

Luckily, we've got another stop. Benidorm, in the southern part of the country, is the next show. We'll do it all again, one more time, knowing that it could be the last time we all do something like this together as one voice.

All for the queen.

So it goes...

The Queen

2009-06-04T10:43:00.005-05:00

Koko Taylor.

Really, you don't have to say much more than that.

She shares the table with the likes of Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, and Willie Dixon. All of them were of the greatest generation (in my opinion) of bluesmen.

Yes, I know she was a woman. That's what makes her a true original.

She was the blues.

Me, I'm just contributing to her eulogy.

I could go into her historical details: coming from Memphis to Chicago in the '50's, being "discovered" by Willie Dixon at a Howlin' Wolf club date, etc. But I won't. Everyone else has, so there's no need.

Aside from being the "Queen of the Blues", she was a good woman, and someone I considered as a friend. In all of my years on the road with Lonnie Brooks, we've done a lot of gigs with Koko and the Blues Machine (her band.) Both Koko and Lonnie are Alligator (Records) artists, so naturally, the two acts were packaged together regularly. Next week, in fact, we were to go overseas to Spain together.

Now it's just us.

One of the best memories I have of Koko is from 2003. Both Koko and Lonnie were on the roster of the Legendary Rhythm and Blues Cruise, a floating blues festival in the middle of the Caribbean. There were probably a dozen or so acts lined up, all of them A-listers.

Koko was the draw, though. She was the Queen, and it was HER gig, no questions asked.

And she exercised her royalty, without doing a damn thing.

You see, we were all flying together out of Chicago to Florida, Ft. Lauderdale, I think. It was winter, so the weather was typically crappy. And our flight out of O'Hare was typically delayed. The delay was so long, in fact, that it got to the point where we realized that we'd never make it to the boat in time for the scheduled departure.

For those of you that have been on any kind of a cruise, then you know that if you miss the boat, so to speak, you're basically out of luck. It's not gonna wait for you.

Anyways, all of the powers that be are running around and basically freaking out. "Oh, my God, what are we going to do? We have to get to that boat. This is an outrage. It's our jobs, here!"

Etc., etc.

Tempers were a bit flaring and hostile, airline workers were getting yelled at, phone calls were being made. You could say there was a bit of stress in the air.

Koko just sat there quietly. She seemed to not worry about anything and she certainly was not giving anybody and earful of anything.

Dignity.

To make an already long story short, we were able to fly out, but not to Ft. Lauderdale. We flew into (I think, anyways) Miami and then had to be driven to the boat. It was, needless to say, a big production. And there was still uncertainty as to whether or not we'd make it to the ship.

Koko, of course, showed no signs of sweating it.

And, as I'm sure you've obviously surmised, we made it.

The boat had waited for us. Really, though, it waited for her. After all, she was the Queen. Blues royalty.

The rest of us? We were simply part of her entourage. We ended up being something like 4 hours late for the scheduled departure. In fact, Lonnie was scheduled to perform the first night of the cruise, and we were forced to sett up and sound check and then doing our show before we even got to our cabins and could unpack and have a drink or a smoke or something to eat or do whatever. It was a flurry of activity.

Koko didn't have to work the first night, and she could have taken the time to rest for her performance the next night. But she was at our show, anyways, hanging out with with us and all of the bands and musicians.

Class.

She seemed to have a particular attachment to Pinetop Perkins, another old blues man (Muddy Waters' piano player for years and years.) They spent a lot of time together on that cruise, basically sitting and holding court for everyone that wanted even the briefest of interviews.

They held each others hands frequently, I'd noticed.

Koko's passing marks the end (just about, anyways) of the great blues migration to the north from the south. She was pretty much the last of that ilk. I can only hope and pray that her legacy will be carried on and that the music that she helped to develop will live on and stay strong.

So it goes...

Play On, Bo Diddley- RIP

2009-06-02T08:53:00.006-05:00

Bo Diddley is dead; been gone from us for a year to the day.

I'm not feeling too good myself, either.

Actually, I'm fine. After all, it's already June, the weather is still (STILL!) crappy, and my health insurance bill is paid up to current.

Government Motors should be so lucky.

Bo never did get a government bailout. In fact, he really never made much money at all. Like so many of the old blues and rock and roll guys, Bo Diddley was a great musician, but not so great as a business person.

The biz will show no mercy, especially if you are a giant.

But he played on. Because that's what he did best. Even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances. I can remember the times that he would come through Chicago, play at Buddy Guy's Legends (with Howard and the White Boys as his backing band- since he made relatively low money, he didn't, or wouldn't, support a touring band.) Now don't get me wrong. Buddy's is a great, great, great club to play. Personally, it's one of my faves. But it's still just a club. And Bo was, well, Bo. It was our good fortune to see him in such a small and intimate place, but he deserved bigger and better digs.

And he was a giant, too. I mean HUGE. Without him (and Muddy Waters and Willie Dixon), the rest of us, who play generally "popular" music, would be out of work. His "Bo Diddley" beat was and is as infectious as swine flu (not that we call it that anymore.) It works with so many different songs, and can be played on any instrument, not just the thundering jungle drums.

Really, that groove is a musical style in itself.

Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp. Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp.

"Bo Diddley, Bo Diddley, have you heard..."

Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp. Bomp, bompa bomp, a bomp bomp.

"Mama's gonna buy you..."

It just doesn't quit. The rhythm is moving and grooving and driving, and powerful. If your body isn't shaking and your big toe isn't coming out of your boot, then, surely, there is something wrong with your sensibilities.

Too bad for you.

RIP Bo Diddley.

Don't Forget to Play

2009-06-01T11:46:00.008-05:00

Sometimes, in my spewing and espousing of all things wrong with the music bid-ness, I sometimes forget to talk about the good things that make up this wacky career choice I've (we've) made.

Like how cool music really is. It's fun, it's exciting, and it's full of emotion and feelings (am I talking about music here?) It's also what we (I) do, so in some sense, there is no choice.

Read: Societal Misfits.

One of the blogs that I follow, MusicianWages.com, reminded me of something that can easily be forgotten as I spend my free time doing things that aren't musical: "...nothing is as important as getting out there and doing what you do: playing."

Never mind the fact that only .65% of the population makes it's living as a musician in Nashville (it tops the list, according to the most recent U.S. census.) Or that Lawrence, KS (2nd on the list) is at .31% (a distant 2nd it seems.)

Chicago, by the way, doesn't even crack the top 10.

With that in mind, (guess the cynic leaked out a bit), read the article by drummer Craig Pilo.

And play.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Crimes of Corruption

2009-05-29T08:53:00.003-05:00

So, yet ANOTHER Chicago Alderman is being charged with what I like to call "crimes of corruption."

According to today's Chicago Sun-Times, "Ald. Isaac "Ike" Carothers (29th) was charged Thursday with fraud and bribery for allegedly accepting $40,000 in home improvements and other gifts from a politically connected developer, but he has been cooperating with the feds since April 2008, according to court papers."

Great.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- The Children Are Our Future?

2009-05-27T09:50:00.006-05:00

Life isn't always about fun and games and being on the road and playing all these gigs that I play.

OK, it is, but sometimes, there are other things that are equally as important.

In the continuing growth of the "Nanny States of America," it seems that we are allowing the yet-to-fear-us U.S. government to walk one step further into our homes (which we so desperately protected during a tiny argument with the Brits called the Revolutionary War back in the 18th century):

Drug testing for students engaged in extracurricular activities, mostly aimed at the "student athlete" (whatever that means,) but extending to any student that does anything in addition to attending class (school dances are included.)

(Aren't we supposed to learn from the past?)

The government, of course, tries to justify these actions very simply: Addiction. Treatment.

Professional help.

The alleged problem and solution, wrapped up in a nice little package.

First off, this all sounds like a benefit to the insurance industry (the cynic in me always comes out first.) After all, someone has to get the contract to administer and obtain the results of this test (read: American Way.)

This is just another example of the growing FASCISM in the U.S. That's right, fascism. And we're afraid of European SOCIALIST ideals?

According to the web site Justia.com, U.S. Supreme Court Center, "The U.S. Supreme Court (Veronica School District vs. Action ) 'caution[ed] against the assumption that suspicionless drug testing will readily pass muster in other contexts,' identifying as 'the most significant element'...the fact that the policy was implemented under the government's responsibilities as guardian and tutor of schoolchildren."

The government is the guardian and tutor of our kids? OUR (broken) government is gonna take responsibility for our kids? The same government that does not provide health care or substantial social services to those who truly NEED them? The same government that ok'd and encouraged the mass distribution and use of Ritalin to fix the dreaded ADD (read: boredom?)

The same government that can't educate our kids in the first place.

This is sick and disgusting, pure and simple. It's a(nother) heinous intrusion by the government in our personal lives. Maybe one day we'll be like China, and just limit everyone to one kid per family (to keep down the costs of drug testing, you know.)

At least a mandate like that would reduce the number of street musicians in the next generation.

So it goes...

Semi- Live Blogging: On the Road w/ Mississippi Heat

2009-05-26T10:28:00.005-05:00

The final stop on the tour was Allentown, PA, headlining the Mayfair Festival of the Arts.

And, yes, Allentown is also the name of a Billy Joel song.

The Heat rolled into town Sunday afternoon, after enjoying a welcome day off, ready for the 90 minutes of face-melting.

We only had to do 60 minutes, though, so that was a bonus (less work for the same bread- the American way.) Apparently, the schedulers didn't take into account the time it takes to change over the stage from one group to the next. I gotta say, for a festival of that size (it was big, believe me) it was very poorly organized.

Since everyone working there was a volunteer, I guess the old saying "you get what you pay for" rang very true. It seemed that all of the workers really didn't know what was going on, where the various stages were, or who was in charge of what.

Even the cops directing traffic were clueless (big surprise there.)

Despite the minimal organizational short-comings, the set was awesome. It was really nice to have the big stage that I like so much. The clubs are fun, don't get me wrong, with the intimacy and all. But the festival stages are the best. I get my own monitor mix (more kick, please,) everything has a big sound, big lighting, and smoke machines are the norm.

Gotta love the smoke machines.

The show started with an uptempo, instrumental shuffle. Pierre took the head of the tune, blowing his harp (that's a harmonica for those of you who don't know) loud and proud. Carl was on, as always, tearing into his Gibson with reckless abandon, and bass-man Steve Howard was holding the pocket like a new pair of Levi's.

We played two up front before we called up (relatively new) vocalist, Rhonda Preston. She's a small woman with a big voice. She's probably not 100 lbs. wet. But she's strong. We brought her up on Dirty Deal, the first track off the Glad You're Mine CD. It's a swinging shuffle with a nice hook, and an interesting ending (a sus chord, for all the music geeks out there.) We followed with the rockin' Handyman (RIP George Baze) before slowing it down a little bit with some "down in the alley" blues. The set finished with the boogie fan-favorite Johnny Boy to raucous applause and a standing ovation (no encore, no time allotted.)

All in all, a great show, and a fitting end to a fun tour. Despite life in the van (we drove home through the night directly after the gig,) this was a fun group to spend the weekend with. And believe me, the most important thing to have in a touring band is good vibes between the members. Everyone out on the road can play, make no mistake. But can they all get along?

Hopefully they'll call again. I'm into it.

So it goes...

Semi- Live Blogging: On the Road w/ Mississippi Heat

2009-05-23T20:01:00.006-05:00

Washington D.C. was a blast.

Who would've thought?

I don't know about you, but every time I'm in D.C., I always feel like I'm being watched. For some reason, my brain seems to notice many people wearing trench coats (it was 80 degrees) and sunglasses (it was dark), pushing a finger into their ears.

In this cesspool of scum and corruption, I hold everyone suspect.

Aside from that, though, it was smashing.

Madam's Organ is a really cool little dive. Dark and (formerly- how sad) smoky. It's actually not little. There are 5 bars on 4 floors, so it's quite huge. The music, and all things cool, were on the ground floor, right when you walked in the door. The stage was small and cramped, but it was good enough.

One thing that I noticed (which really stood out) was that the crowd was very diverse and mixed: Black, white, Asian, Latino. It was really a melting pot of cultures and peoples. Quite the opposite of Chicago, really.

We saw everyone coming through the door.

They saw us.

Really, it was a killer dance party. Everyone was into what they were into (read: wasted,) and they were all movin' and shakin' and dancing on tables and swinging from chandeliers.

The band was cookin'. We really had it together, especially since it was only my 2nd time with the band, ever (had I mentioned that I've never worked with this group?)

Like riding a bike.

This tour is featuring Carl Weathersby on guitar. I've been knowing him for years, yet this is the first time working with him. He's a really nice guy: military vet, former cop, and smokin' guitar- man. He used to be Albert King's rhythm player for a few years in the late '70's, early '80's.

Really, he's excellent. He's got a large vocabulary, able to pull out songs that go beyond the straight blues realm (when he's given the mic to lead the show, which is for about half of each set.)

We played "Cowboys to Girls" by the Intruders. You gotta be kidding me.

Sings as well as he plays, too.

After the show (a grueling 3-setter ending at 3am), it was back to the band house. Oh, joy. I've decided that instead of a take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards band houses, I'd just assume leave it, bite the bullet, and just get a room.

Sometimes it's worth the dough. Especially when there's a day off, like today.

Not only did the band have to share a fairly small space, but it turns out that other people lived there, too. So there were basically 9 people there. Unreal. They (the residents) had the upstairs, and the band had the downstairs, which consisted of a living room with 3 beds, and two bedrooms with a bed apiece.

Not exactly a bastion of privacy.

At least the hosts cooked us breakfast. I gotta say, it was quite a spread: eggs, bacon, sausage, ribs, chicken, grits, biscuits, and syrup. Wowee Zowee. Indeed, it was a major redeeming quality.

Should have gotten a room.

So it goes...

Semi- Live Blogging: On the Road w/ Mississippi Heat

2009-05-22T16:01:00.005-05:00

Madam's Organ in Washington, D.C., is, the blues capital in the nation's capital.

I made that up, by the way.

The drive from Williamsburg was quick and easy. We even had time for breakfast, compliments of the leader, Pierre Lacocque (gracias.)

"Washington DC has always been rich with Blues, R&B and Jazz and Madam's Organ Blues Bar is the place to find it! Madam's Organ is an authentic Soul Food Restaurant & Blues Bar located in Adams Morgan, DC! ALL LIVE MUSIC - SEVEN NIGHTS A WEEK!"

This is the quote on their Facebook page. They build (and bill) themselves as the place to be. In fact, someone that works at the club said that the strip that the Madam works (made that one up too,) will be filled with about 10,000 people tonight.

A typical Friday night, I suppose. We shall see what we shall see.

Well, anyone who's been here knows that D.C. is kinda crappy. Homeless people camping out (living) in front of the White House and all.

Traffic is horrible, too. It took us almost 30 minutes to drive the 2 miles from the club (set up early. Sweet.) to the band house.

Band house?

That's right folks, yours truly is not only back in the van, but back in the band house. It's not nearly as cool as the Slippery Noodle's pad, but it could be (and has been) worse.

So it goes...

Semi- Live Blogging: On the Road w/ Mississippi Heat

2009-05-22T08:28:00.003-05:00

The first leg of the tour was quite eventful and successful. Even if I DID have to sleep in another strange hotel.

J.M. Randall's is more of a sports bar than music venue, here in lovely (colonial) Williamsburg, VA. It's got several big screen t.v.'s, a pool table, and a full service menu. Perfect for a blues party, eh? I, for one, appreciate the fine art of watching a band and the Yankees at the same time.

Not really.

But, they had an actual sound system and an engineer, so the music club definitely trumped the restaurant aspect of it. It was a pretty healthy crowd, too(just about all the seats were full,) and they seemed to be into what was going on. Even a few dancers showed up. When you can pull that off on a Thursday night, you can do just about anything.

On a side note, the legendary linebacker, Lawrence Taylor (LT) was in the audience. Apparently he grew up just a few blocks from the club and his dad still lives there. He had a crew of people with him, and they stuck around for almost the entire 2 sets. Pretty cool.

Now it's on to Washington, D.C., where taxation without representation abounds. The name of the club is Madam's Organ (I like it.) Tonight is a 3- set hit, so it'll be long, but not daunting.

The drive is short, though.

So it goes...

Semi- Live Blogging: On the Road w/ Mississippi Heat

2009-05-21T16:56:00.005-05:00

Well, today is the first day of a three-day east coast tour with the renowned Chicago Blues band, Mississippi Heat.

This band has been a fixture on the Chicago Blues scene for nearly 20 years. Led by harmonica player Pierre Lacocque, there have been many names and faces that have shared the stage with the group, both as subs and regulars.

This weekend, I'm one of those names AND faces (thanks, Diff.) This is my first time playing with the band. I've been called by Pierre several times over the years (usually later than last minute,) and this is the first time I've been able to say yes.

Very exciting.

Right now, we're in Williamsburg, VA. I'm in the hotel room listening to the tunes that MIGHT be played. I've got 5 CD's and little time.

But the blues is the blues. It should be a piece of cake.

I'll be leaving in 2 hours for the first show, and I'll keep you updated all weekend.

So it goes...

Life (and Racism) in Music- Takin' it to the Streets

2009-05-18T10:09:00.011-05:00

A long time ago, in what, at this point, seems like another lifetime (it actually was), I was a street musician.

One of the best summers of my life.

I was 19 years old (with ways just like a baby child) and in college. I had no money. I had no real gig. I had no real experience. I was underage (although I'd been working the clubs since I was 18).

I wasn't really that good yet, either.

Just like everybody, in the beginning.

I knew this guy who was (is) a saxophone player. Beau Barry is (was) his name. We had a mutual friend who was a blues singer, L.C. Walker (RIP), and had done a few cheap-0 gigs together, as was the case most of the time in those days.

Meaning cheap-o gigs.

Beau supplemented his career (supported it, really) by performing on the street (sure beats selling drugs. Or junk bonds.) Or at Wrigley Field. Or in the subway on the platform. Essentially, he would go wherever there was likely to be large groups of people. That makes, uh, sense, right?

(It sure beats selling drugs. Or junk bonds.)

Large groups of people.

At some point in our relationship, he suggested I join him. He said that it was very good for your chops. Lot's of playing.

Pretty decent dough (you haven't lived till you've brought home $200 worth of quarters) too.

However, ahem ahem, it would take roughly 4-6 hours to make that kind of coin (get it? Coin? I slay me sometimes.) Also, it was a sax/drums duo, so it was very unusual. No bass. No chordal instruments. New territory for both of us, frankly.

In order to play for 4-6 hours, you need a lot of stamina, perseverance, and patience. You also need material. Any working musician knows that a large repertoire requires a lot of practicing and learning. Since we were playing 4-6 hours, and doing the cheap-o gigs, that didn't leave much time for practicing. Meaning on our own time in a room by ourselves. So where do you practice?

While you're on the street, working, of course.

Look, a street musician's audience is mostly transient. Kind of like a prostitute (but without the nasty diseases.) They walk up to you, they may or may not stop to listen, they may or may not drop a ducket in the bucket. Sometimes (and for Beau and me it was often, because we kicked ass, after a while) people would eagerly gather around and we'd have an actual crowd. That was always a ton of fun. People of all ages, races, religions, creeds, and colors. Exactly what you would expect in a major, supposedly international, city (that's really where this is going. Patience.)

The people, however, DO move on sooner, rather than later.

Even when they dig it.

The point is that there is a point where you run out of material. So what do you do? You play tunes many times a day. You play it over and over, tweaking and refining it. The musical freedom you are allowed on the street is like nowhere else. No band leader, no club owner, no booking agency to pay off, nothing like that. You're not even asked to draw your audience.

The ultimate DIY (read: the American Way.)

And it's music, the one true international language. If people like it, they pay. Or not. It's not a requirement. If people don't like it, they don't pay. Or maybe they do anyways (like I said, the American Way.)

We kept playing our limited-yet-growing material over and over. We're better off for having done that.

We were also required, as street performers still are, to purchase a license (the city ALWAYS gets her cut). So the city, one would assume, considers this a legitimate line of work, right?

Yeah, right.

In the Sun-Times last week, Chicago Alderman Brendan Reilly (42nd) introduced an ordinance in the City Council to curtail the already very-limited freedom of street musicians. He's claimed that, "Street performer noise comes up at literally every condo association I address."

"Imagine a boom-boom-boom for six hours outside your window. If you're trying to work, it sounds as if they're playing their instruments in your office. And it's tremendously disruptive . . . on residents."

Condo associations.

Trust fund babies.

Credit card hippies.

Investment bankers.

Chicago is allegedly an international city. So they say, anyways. The Mayor has been selling us out to obtain the 2016 Olympics to solidify that fact (we'll be right up there with Lillehammer, Norway, no doubt.)

One of the things that defines an international city is a fairly large population. Meaning a lot of people.

Meaning a lot of noise.

If you want peace and quiet and space and alienation from the rest of society, then you move to the country.

Or the suburbs.

You DON'T move into a downtown condo on Michigan Ave. That makes you just as annoying as the people who move next door to the airport and then complain that there is too much air traffic.

The good Alderman also cites the "criminal element" of street performers, particularly and specifically, the "bucket boys."

You know who they are. The kids who play drums on plastic buckets. Kind of like a drum corps for a college football team. Just less formal. They're (for the most part, anyways) pretty good, too. Believe it or not, it is a talent and a skill to play the same rhythms with the same stick patterns (including the twirling of the sticks and other show-biz tricks) among a group of people.

Besides, with the domination of American Idol, and things like that in our society, how can any form of musical entertainment not be considered legit?

"There is a criminal element. Some crews use their performance merely as a distraction to lure unsuspecting tourists. And there are people in those crews who are tasked with reaching into people's shopping bags, purses or wallets to make off with their valuables," Reilly said, noting some drummers have "lengthy criminal records."

Ok, point taken. Sometimes the (often quality) performance is a ruse in order to accomplish a bigger scam.

Are you listening AIG? Or Enron? Or the Investment Banking Industry? Or Bernie Madoff? Or George W. Bush?

Or Mayor "I razed Meigs Field in the middle of night under the cover of darkness with no witnesses or the press. So what?" Daley and the rest of the Chicago City Council?

Did I mention that the Bucket Boys are generally young black kids?

So it goes...

************************
photo credit: Richard A. Chapman/Sun-Times

Life in Music- Bruce Writes the Songs

2009-05-14T10:54:00.007-05:00

"Mary Lou she found out how to cope, she rides to heaven on a gyroscope. The Daily News asks her for the dope. She says, 'Man, the dope's that there's still hope'."- Bruce Springsteen, Does the Bus Stop at 82nd Street.

The Boss was here in Chicago a few days ago, and, sadly, yours truly was not in the audience. It's the first time in a while that Bruce came to town and I didn't show up.

Tickets are pricey, you know, but that's not the point.

Or is it?

Anyways, I had written previously about songs. More specifically, the fact that so many cats on the scene don't learn songs.

That fact still annoys me, by the way.

That's not the point either.

No, the point for today is that Bruce Springsteen knows songs. He writes songs. His band learns his songs as well as other people's songs (they did the Who's My Generation just a couple of days ago- man I would have loved to have seen that.) The catalog of the E Street Band is in the hundreds.

Hundreds of songs. Just 1 guy (and his guys.)

Springsteen is one of those aging rock gods that people love or hate. Surprisingly, there are a lot of musicians who are in the latter category. I've always wondered why that is. Here's a guy who started his career nearly 40 years ago playing crappy dive bars in sleepy Asbury Park, N.J.

Not exactly a tourist destination (native New Yorkers notwithstanding.)

Bruce can play. Well. Same with his group. It would be a challenge to find a tighter unit. So why are cats against him?

Maybe his looks.

He's not the most attractive guy (ok, ladies, lemme have it.) He's short, like me, and has a hideous under bite, not like me. You can see the wear and tear in the lines on his face from years and years on the road, and he travels well (when's the last time THAT band got in the van?)

Must be jealousy of his success.

Yet, he's still as relevant as ever. Why?

Songs, songs, songs.

Unlike the Rolling Stones (and they ARE the world's greatest rock and roll band) who haven't put out a meaningful album since Tattoo You (1981- it was a "comeback" record,) Springsteen is still writing new material. Most of it is even quality material. Sure, none of it is as impressive as his very early stuff (most songwriters write their best tunes early on, when they're young and hungry,) but he has refined and polished and had the E Street style well defined. He is also, from what I understand, relentless in his rehearsing of the band, and by the time they go out on the road to start a tour, they're more than ready.

They're even ready for tunes they may have not rehearsed. After all, when your catalog is that large, how can you really prepare?

The answer is that they have been preparing their entire careers. They (the band) have been learning material for decades. Not sort of learning it. Really learning it.

You stay ready to keep from getting ready.

Like I said before, they also do other artists' tunes. They do some Motown stuff (you should hear the Detroit Medley- fantastic.) They play folk music (get the Seeger Sessions.) They do blues.

Bruce is successful because of songs, and we as musicians need to understand that without knowing songs, the chops you have (or think you have) become meaningless. Your guitar shredding becomes noise. Your thumb popping on the bass is a bottom end rumble mumble jumble. The crazy drum fills are just, well, crazy.

And then people don't want to hear you, and you're stuck wondering why there aren't any gigs out there better than bar gigs that are worth fifty bucks and a chicken sandwich.

You gotta learn the songs of your genre. I do, and you can too.

Max still hasn't called me to sub, though. He thinks his kid is better than me.

So it goes...

Learn the tunes

Who Writes the Songs?

2009-05-07T12:24:00.009-05:00

I know a lot of songs.

Rock songs. Blues songs. Jazz tunes.

Hundreds of them.

I'm not talking about just sort of knowing the songs. I know them: I know the arrangements; I know the lyrics; I know the guitar licks and horn lines; I know when to take it to the bridge (if there's a bridge for it to be taken to.)

When you do work as a sideman, you gotta know tunes.

Some cats, when you call out a certain tune, they just say something like, "Yeah, I think I remember that one. What key is is in?" That's usually code for, "No, not really, but I'll give it a whirl because, you know, I've heard the song dozens and hundreds of times, but I've never really sat down and played it."

They might even actually have a copy of the song somewhere.

Then the song, generally, proceeds to get butchered.

Now when I say butchered, I don't mean like a full blown train wreck (although that still happens too, some times.) I mean that it's just not played right. And when you're not playing it right, that means that you're playing it wrong.
Born Under a Bad Sign (Albert King) is one of the most wrongly played blues tunes out there that I can think of. It's also a song that just about everybody "knows". When you call that tune, and someone asks what key, they actually mean it, oddly enough. There certainly won't be anything even close to a train wreck. But when it's (inevitably, usually) played incorrectly, the band is usually (inevitably) unaware.

Because they probably never really listened to Albert King's version of it. They've only heard the version(s) that are played live on stage night after night.

The song works, sure. It might have even been a stellar performance. But when you play a song wrong, it's still wrong.

Which still means not right.

The audience usually is unaware of these type of things, hardcore audiophiles notwithstanding (are there any, anymore? just asking.) Maybe that's how some cats justify not learning how to really play tunes correctly. Even when they've flubbed a song the night before, and they know it will be called again tonight, they generally don't seem to take the time to listen to the song.

Did I mention that musicians have big egos? Especially us pros. We don't like to be told how to play, yours truly included.

However, for those of you out there who are getting their feathers ruffled a little bit as you read this little nugget (guilty as charged, I suppose,) let me just remind you that there's this great new invention called the Internet. A quick search will allow you to listen to just about anything you want to hear right now without ever having to leave the house.

If not for the sake of personal pride, then know this: learning tunes will make your job as a player that much easier. It won't be as much work, so to speak (we're all used to not much work, eh?) You'll be able to have more fun, as a result, which is why we do this in the first place, really.

Is that why we do it?

When you really know the tunes, then you can really play. It frees you up and allows you to make full use of your vocabulary. Ultimately, it makes you a better player all around. You don't have the crutch (see excuse) of not having a copy of the tune.

Listen to it. Learn it.

A large repertoire is a life's work.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Idol Insult to Injury

2009-05-05T10:34:00.002-05:00

I wrote very briefly last week about American Idol, and the fact that it propels amateur (karaoke) singers into the stratosphere of the music biz, leaving the REAL musicians shaking their heads as we continue to scratch out a living.

Today, I read in some trashy magazine that Simon Cowell, the real star of the show, collects a cool $36 million per season. He also makes 10 million (British Pounds) as the emcee and chief jerk for "Britain's Got Talent".

He also has his own record company, Syco, which signs the shows' "artists" (how convenient.) That nets him another cool $12 million.

I knew American Idol was huge, but not like that. And he's just one of the judges. How much do the others, Randy and Paula and the other lady, get to find the winning "artist?"

I'm guessing it's more than "50 bucks and a chicken sandwich."

So it goes...

(In)Security Check- Flying to Gigs

2009-05-04T05:30:00.001-05:00

I was in Albany, New York, this weekend for a gig. The group was flown in for it.

I fly quite regularly being on the road with Lonnie Brooks. At this point, I'm an expert in dealing with all of the b.s. and hassle that is now required for air travel in the U.S.

Flying used to be fun, by the way. Especially for gigs. But not so much anymore.

So paranoid are we. When I say we, I mean America. For some reason, after 9/11 (which, I still say, had to have been an inside job. Box cutters? C'mon), we were hoodwinked to believe that we needed this illusion of security. Take off your shoes (rarely do you have to do this in countries outside of the U.S.), take your computer out, take the stick bag out and open it, make sure your shaving cream is in a ziploc bag, no water or coffee or sodapop allowed (that you haven't bought in the secure area at the airport, that is), yadda-blah-alright-already.

We can carry lighters again, though. I've already had my party to celebrate that one. Sorry if you missed it.

Today I had to go through the blower machine that tests for chemicals or fertilizer or explosives or something. Maybe dog doo. Who knows. Funny, but I was the only fool that was "randomly" selected (yet again) to stand in "the pod". I actually asked a TSA person why I was the only one to go through it (always risky to talk to them. You could easily be arrested and probably water boarded) and she said that it was just random, of course. But if I was the only person to go through, that means everyone else didn't.

Or no one else did. Whichever you prefer. The glass is half empty or half full. Pick one.

Anyways,the TSA agent said they didn't have time to do it to, with, or for (whichever you prefer) everyone. Planes gotta be on time, you know, and time is money, which obviously trumps security.

You've heard about the economy not being so healthy these days?

Speaking of the economy, you have the option of paying some membership fee (congratulations, you're a Member) with the airline (that's a private company, right?) so that you can have a quicker, more convenient security soiree. You know, just sign here, give us a fingerprint and retinal scan, and, of course, pay up sucker.

The (no frills) airline I flew today also includes a free (huh?) drink in their membership "package."

So, to summarize, I was the only person out of several dozen, if not a hundred, people who had to stand in some machine (likely with a very, very steep price tag) to be probed in whatever way I was probed (at least I didn't feel anything) so that everyone was able to feel secure and be on time. The performance by the TSA was compelling and impressive at the same time.

Applause, applause.

The Members might have appreciated it most of all.

So it goes...

Short Burtst Series- American Idol's Insult

2009-04-29T09:31:00.005-05:00

American Idol is bigger daily news than most anything these days, swine flu notwithstanding.

On the radio station I listen to every morning, there is a recap of the previous night's show (how many times a week is it on, anyways?) whenever there is a show from the previous night to recap. They treat this karaoke spectacle as news.

Like a bona fide story or something.

I, and other musicians like me have spent years and years and countless hours...

Sigh.

So it goes...

Ebb and Flow and...Torture?

2009-04-28T14:16:00.008-05:00

The calendar in May is looking bleak for yours truly.

As the economy ebbs and flows, like our lives, so do the gigs. I've lost a couple of good private gigs recently, for relatively big dough, and I've had to sub out of a couple nice ones, as well, to maintain the commitment to Lonnie Brooks gigs.

Flying high in April, shot down in May.

One of the biggest uncertainties that we face as musicians is constantly keeping the calendar full. If there's an opening, especially on the weekend, then you want to fill it. So it's the constant cycle of booking and looking. Dates on the calendar come and go, and keeping the balance is tough.

Back on top in June. I'll be back in Espana.

Sometimes being a pro musician can be torture.

Speaking of torture, what do you think about former officials in the Bush administration, including former POTUS Bush and former V.P. Dick Cheney being tried (eventually, anyways) for war crimes (see torture, water boarding, lying, being deceitful, lying, lying, etc.?)

Obama is very smart and calculating, I'm convinced. He puts the information out there and sits back to let everyone digest and process everything. He's not a knee-jerk kind of guy. He thinks that maybe we should just "move on" since there are more pressing matters right now.

He's right, of course. There are much bigger fish to fry at this moment in our history (like the Taliban taking over Afghanistan. Again. Jeez.) Maybe in a few years all of these things will get done, when things have leveled off a bit.

I don't agree with "moving on", personally. That will become an excuse to "move on" after any kind of scandal or shenanigans that have/will occur withing the high levels of government.

A political crutch.

We couldn't just "move on" with the Clinton blow job. Remember that one? And that didn't even affect the economy, which seems to be the ruler of all of our sensibilities these days. Our religion, don't you know?

What do you think? Leave a comment.

So it goes...

Life in Music- Subbing Out

2009-04-27T15:47:00.008-05:00

I've had to sub out of a few gigs as of late.

I hate having to sub out.

For those of you who are not down with the music biz jargon (and that's all it is, believe me,) "subbing out" means that you can't make a gig you agreed to do, for some reason or another, and someone else gets the call and does the gig in your place.

They also cash the check in your place. Grrr.

Subbing out is part of the deal of being pro. If you are fortunate enough to have a steady gig with steady work, like the Lonnie Brooks Band affords me, then you don't have to deal with it too much.

Why, you ask? Because I'm not taking a lot of gigs from other people, so I rarely have to sub out of something in order to do a Brooks gig.

But I do have to sub out of certain gigs to some extent. Even though the gig with Brooks is a very good gig, it only goes so far. I've been in the group for 8 years, now, but I'm still just a sideman, not the boss. This means that the gig will come to an end at some point (all gigs come to an end.) Which means that I can't just rest on my laurels. I've got to have other work (all working players work with several people.)

So I take a few side jobs. I make calls to people seeing if there's anything out there. People will also (hopefully) call me.

I've even got my own group (so as not to have to rely on the phone ringing my ENTIRE career.)
Between that and the random side work, some of those dates will, undoubtedly, clash with the Brooks band schedule.

Which means that I sub out when I need to, and someone else ends up getting my dough.

Of course, when you sub out, there's always a risk you run: losing the gig to someone else (meaning you won't necessarily get another call for another day.) If you can't make the gig, someone else will (obviously). If they are better than you are, or more reliable, or more likable, or more punctual, or more whatever than you are, then you might fall down a few spots on the call list.

Another revenue stream dries up.

For now anyways. Sideman gigs always seem find their way back to you.

Eventually.

That's how it goes. Not having your phone ring can be a harsh reality. Let's face it, the main reason why you're having to sub out is because someone else is offering better dough for the same day, and since you're just a mercenary (like the rest of us...)

Which means, of course, that we bring our misfortunes on ourselves, searching for that elusive gig that actually IS going to pay you what you think you're worth.

It's not like the guy/gal hiring you is concerned about your finances. They've got their own fish to fry. You're just an interchangeable cog in their (not your own) enterprise.

I'm in a pretty fortunate situation, though, because I'm generally only subbing out of a gig that is mine. Meaning I'm not a sideman in this group, I'm an owner.

I don't have to worry about losing that gig to someone else.

I still hate subbing out.

So it goes...

Short Burtst Series- Want Fries With That?

2009-04-23T14:00:00.005-05:00

I've written previously about this great Cuban joint in my 'hood, 90 Miles Cafe.

I have officially decided that it is one of the top 5 places in the city to eat. Oh, yes, I know, that's a pretty bold statement there.

Stop the presses, for crying out loud..

Today, for the first time, I ordered the french fries to accompany my Cubano sandwich and cafe con leche (to celebrate the wheels being in motion to lift the embargo.) I'm a french fry freak.

Best fries on the North Side of Chicago, hands down. Hot, crispy, crunchy, hearty, and yummy.

Really, though, I need to get to Havana while it's still illegal.

So it goes...

Life in Music- Your Red Shirt

2009-04-21T13:52:00.004-05:00

So I've got this gig at the United Center this week. My group, BMR4, will be performing pre-game grooves for the Bulls' fans and those of their ilk.

A good mixer for nacho consumption, no?

It's a regular gig that we get each year, good for about half a dozen jobs each year. Since the Bulls made the playoffs this year, we get extra work, starting this week.

Not too shabby.

I like the U.C. gigs. They're relatively painless, as there is only 1 set lasting about 85 minutes.

"Hit it and quit it," as the Godfather of Soul, James Brown, used to say.

I'm also done at 7pm, which means that I can still dance the night away (or do another gig, if only the damn phone would ring.)

Like I said, the gig is painless and easy, for the most part (the security shakedown is still a waste of time, though.) This time, however, a rather unusual request was presented to us: we needed to wear red shirts (Bulls colors, you know).

It's not the first time we've had to put on the proverbial monkey suit. Sometimes (actually, every time, now that I think about it) we have to wear a lapel pin with the name of the night's sponsor. Usually, it's a bank or some big-money institution. It's usually ugly, obviously annoying (it's not like we're getting extra dough for being a walking billboard), and ultimately silly.

But we do it. We need the gig. Everyone needs to hold on to their gigs these days.

So I'll wear the red shirt, artistic integrity still in tact. I'll even smile.

I should wear red shoes, too. Maybe a red wig and nose, too.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Miss California

2009-04-21T09:21:00.004-05:00

So Carrie Prejean, Miss California did not become Miss USA.

She doesn't approve of gay marriage. This "came out" (get it?) during her questioning by judge Perez Hilton, a gay guy who's famous for being famous.

A beauty contest is no place for political discourse (and Perez is not the guy to be asking questions like this.) These "contestants" didn't exactly show up based on their brainpower. Nobody did.

Probably, anyways.

I'm guessing the Las Vegas audience was, rightly so, hoping to focus on these ladies' other assets.

So it goes...

Life in Music- The Funky Bass Players

2009-04-20T09:40:00.007-05:00

I love bass players. They are my brothers/sisters in groove.

Without them, I am nothing (after all, I'm just a bass player trapped in a drummer's body).

That being said, bass players really piss me off lately.

I don't know why, and I probably never will, but bass players seem to be perpetually less than timely, especially lately. On 2 gigs that I did last week (2 in one week?) the bass player was late. When I say late, I mean late for the START of the gig. Not late for the load-in or the sound check, but the hit time (biz lingo).

Hello? Are we pro's here or what?

Isn't part of your job keeping good time?

The kicker of this part of the story is that it occurred with 2 different bands and 2 different bass players.

About a week or 2 previous to this, there was another gig that the bass player was late. About an hour late for the hit, to be precise. I can't blame her, though, because she was filling in for the person that was supposed to show up.

That's right, I said supposed to show up. The person who originally got the call never showed. Just didn't show up. Didn't even call. Luckily, someone was found, albeit an hour late.

So what's going on here, bass players? The economy is terrible and the gigs are getting scarce. I understand that we all gotta do what we gotta do (I'm talking to the mercenaries out there, myself included.) I know that if you're already booked to play for a hondo (a hundred dollars- more biz lingo) and someone else offers you 2 for the same day, you gotta take it.

But you also gotta be responsible and send a sub or at least CALL THE LEADER and let them know that they need to get someone else. When you don't show up, or if you show up late, not only do you screw up your colleagues' future employment, but your own name gets tarnished mightily (notice my manners in not calling y'all out). Besides, just like many, many drummers in this town, you're probably not nearly as good as you think you are, with your noodling fingers and thumping thumbs; being "funky".

Sorry to be harsh, but if you feel slighted by this statement, then you probably fit the description. If it does not affect your mood, then you are probably very solid and...

ON TIME.

Probably funky, too.

And speaking of funky, how about the city of Chicago sending out the secret goon squad to ticket motorists who fail to stop for pedestrians who just walk willy-nilly into the middle of the street just 'cause they can. Why doesn't the city just send us all a bill every month?

So it goes...

Phil Spector Revisited

2009-04-14T14:55:00.006-05:00

The music world, and the world at large, for that matter, lost another great musician.

No, he's not dead. Just gone. Away.

Into the prison industry you go, Phil. It's one of the few industries making big dollars these days, kinda like you continue to do (so far). Plus, there isn't a shortage of wackos and freaks in the joint. So you should fit right in.

Phil Spector is a genius, as well as a psychotic, mentally unstable, and essentially crazy dude. It was regarded as widely well known that it was not uncommon for him to have some kind of firearm with or near him a lot of the time. He was known to have it with him in the studio, keeping the doors locked and, essentially, holding everyone there hostage 'til he was done doing whatever he was doing. Whether it was his early producing days with the likes of the Ronettes or later on and past his "prime" with the Ramones, he had his piece.

Finally, probably inevitably, someone ended up dead. So he's a killer. He should rot in jail with the rest of the killers and pedophiles and banking executives. He'll probably die there.

Boo-friggin'-hoo.

Now that all of that is out of the way, he was also the ultimate music producer, making some of the greatest and most innovative music of our time, with some of the greatest and innovative bands of our time. The "wall of sound", which has become almost a common-place phrase, is the ultimate of revolutionary breakthroughs in the history of recorded music.

So I'm also very sad that he did this. It's a loss to all music fans.

Even though he's an ego maniacal killer, he still was the producer for some of MY favorite records. That includes, without a doubt, his Christmas album, which is the best Christmas album ever made (yes it is, so don't argue.)

Ok, ok. The Charlie Brown Christmas is very/close.

I've spent a good part of the day listening to my John Lennon and George Harrison records. It seemed like the thing to do. George's All Things Must Pass is fantastic. It's my personal favorite, which makes it the BEST of all of the post-Beatle albums.

Songs like Isn't it a Pity, Wah-Wah, Apple Scruffs (it's about groupies-yes sir!) are the cream of the crop on that album. They are also the epitome of the Spector sound. It's a sound my ear has grabbed on to and embedded into my puny and mortal brain. Because of Phil, these songs were given a life that continually charges the pleasure receptors in that same puny and mortal brain.

Almost as much as Muddy Waters, may HE rest well.

So it goes...

Phil Spector

2009-04-13T23:52:00.001-05:00

With genius comes madness.

There wasn't a single musician that testified on his behalf (not that there should have been.)

Poor Phil Spector.

So it goes...

Bogus Bond

2009-04-13T08:33:00.003-05:00

Chicago Police detective Joseph Frugoli was drunk behind the wheel of his Lexus SUV, just before 4am Saturday morning, when he struck a Dodge in the break down lanes near 18th street, on the Dan Ryan expressway.

He killed the two passengers in the Dodge, driver Andrew Cazares and passenger Fausto Manzera. They were both in their early twenties, so they were just kids.

Kids.

It is reported that his blood-alcohol was 3 times the legal limit, which means that it was at least 0.24.

Pretty drunk.

He was charged, thank Allah, with two counts of reckless homicide, two counts of driving under the influence and one count of leaving the scene of an accident (that's right, he tried to split.)

Currently, and shamefully, he is free on $50,000 bond.

Turns out that this so-called officer of the law has had a few other, um, fender benders. Just last week, Frugoli had to pay $7100 to a guy named Joseph Cairo for a 2005 accident, also on the Dan Ryan.

Also a rear-end job.

Also early in the morning, around 3 am.

Also a nice car (BMW Sedan).

Interestingly (not really), alcohol was seemingly a non-factor. The officer, in one of his accounts of what happened that morning (that's right, he gave multiple accounts) said that he was on his way to a bar at that time.

On his way.

Riiiiiight.

Only cost $7100 to get out of that one.

There was yet another accident that happened in January of last year, also in the Beamer, also in the wee hours of the morning. This time, though, the accident was not on the expressway. It seems that officer friendly ran a stop sign at 37th and Wallace. He hit a police car and injured two officers (a family affair). There was no "evidence" of intoxication, so Fugoli was only given a citation.

Interestingly, according to the April 11 Chicago Sun-Times, "The officers who responded to the crash were investigated for failing to tell their supervisors in a timely manner that an off-duty officer was involved in the crash, but they were cleared of wrongdoing, sources said."

Guess the booze wore off by the time a supervisor knew it was one of his/her bad kids involved in the wreck.

So, to review: 3 accidents in four years, 2 of them were from behind (it's how rogue cops seemingly like to dish it out), and 1 has alcohol officially involved.

He was also driving very nice, luxury vehicles, and has shelled out at least $57,100 (between his previous fine and his current bond) in the last week.

(Does this guy earn a typical cop salary?)

So what is there to say about this? Cops protect their own, which they've tried to do in the past for this guy. They were relatively successful up until now, but I would not be surprised that in the end, he'll get off relatively easily. That's how it works here in Chicago.

As of this writing, his first hearing had already been postponed until May, of course, so he's free as a bird right now.

Figures.

Luckily, his police powers have been stripped.

So it goes...

5 Reasons Chicago Should Not Have the Olympics

2009-04-08T10:07:00.006-05:00

The IOC just finished their whirlwind tour of Chicago.

The red carpet was rolled out for them, they were wined and dined, and they were Oprah-fied. By most accounts, this last weekend could be defined as a top-notch sales job.

I mean, Oprah! She's not even really a Chicagoan, and yet...

Ok, the list of 5, as promised.

1. First and foremost, Chicago is broke. The potholes on the city streets are as rampant as ragweed during a typical Chicago spring. Construction projects have been halted (Spire, anyone? Love the hole.) Even the Chicago Police (lack of backbone notwithstanding) held a demonstration on Day 1 of the IOC visit to demand better wages.

If cops are demonstrating, it MUST be serious.

Or French. Paris, after all, lost the 2012 bid to the Brits mainly because of strikes, protests, and demonstrations during that IOC visit a few years back.

2. Traffic is a daily issue in this city. It's pretty bad, at best, and more often than not, it's horrible. The Kennedy and Eisenhower expressways are too small for a metro area of 9 million people (3 lanes in each direction on both these highways? Poor urban planning, and hardly accommodating). Lake Shore Drive has the eternal logjam from the Michigan Ave. exit on the north side, all the way down to Soldier Field, home to the NFL's Chicago Bears. Primarily, the games will be south of the football spacecraft (which by the way, is too small for the opening and closing ceremonies), as will the Olympic Village. So how will people get that far south? And if the bulk of attendees for the games are from places other than Chicago (they will be, you know?), how will they travel to the south side. CTA? Doubtful. Maybe our bike-happy dictator, I mean Mayor Daley, will buy thousands of 2-wheelers for our guests. He can pay for them with parking meter money, perhaps. Oh, wait...

I guess we'll be having red-light cameras at just about EVERY intersection now (last year's revenue from the cameras was a staggering $44 million, and currently there are only a few hundred of them in Chicago)

3. I'm pretty sure that public support is far lower than the mayor or the IOC would like to acknowledge. Personally, I have yet to talk to one single person who supports having the Olympic teat in Chicago. Not one (well, OK, there was 1, but he doesn't count and shall remain unidentified). Now, there are a few businesses that have the "We Back the Bid" signs in their windows, but they are all major corporations/political donors. Places like Walgreens and BP.

Drugs and fuel.

Hmmmm. I suppose I can stop right there.

4. Chicago is broke. Oh, wait...

5. How can we actually trust the people in charge? You, know, the mayor and all of his cronies and hacks. Corruption is rampant. Not only within city government, but at the state and county level as well (like you didn't know that). Make no mistake. The State of Illinois, as well as C(r)ook County, has a vested interest in securing the games. Those involved in these upper levels of government want the money, I mean games, just as much as Richie and the boys.

These so called leaders lack the foresight for what is really needed. Soldier Field, as I said, is too small for the Olympics. So that means that we'll have to build a stadium (did I mention Chicago's broke?) As most Chicagoans will no doubt remember, it took FOREVER to reach an agreement to, ultimately, have Soldier Field refurbished. There was squabbling within the City Council as to whether or not the stadium would be re-done or if a new one would be built. But where would it be built? More importantly, who gets the contracts? Back and forth, back and forth.

It took YEARS.

Really, Chicago should have built a domed stadium on the lakefront. But that opportunity was blown. Did the mayor not have Olympic dreams those short few years ago? A state-of-the-art dome would have been large enough to accommodate the Olympics. Plus it would give Chicago things that Soldier Field, still, cannot EVER accommodate. Things like the NCAA Final Four (which was held, this year, in Ford Field in Detroit, home of the NFL's Lions), or, gasp, the Super Bowl.

Now THAT, would generate some serious revenue. More than just once, too.

The lack of foresight on this one is just plain stupid and selfish. They were smug and full of hubris and self-interest.

Do we really want "those guys" running THIS particular show?

Of course, we elected them, so us regular folk must share some of the blame.

So it goes...

My Beatle Story

2009-04-06T15:42:00.007-05:00

In today's online New York Times, in the Arts Beat section, is an article about last Saturday night's show at Radio City Music Hall (photo credit Stephen Chernin/AP). It was a benefit concert for the David Lynch Foundation, (Yes, the Twin Peaks and Blue Velvet David Lynch. Read the manifesto here.) The show featured Paul McCartney as the headline act, with none other than Ringo (RINGO!) rounding out the bill.

It sounded, from the reviewer's perspective, like it was a great show, featuring a cavalcade of stars including Sheryl Crow, Donovan, the Beach Boys.

Whatever. I'm not interested in the foundation.

Paul and Ringo certainly were the only ones that mattered.

I've had the luck (what other way can you see a Beatle, after all) of seeing both of these guys live and in the flesh.

I got to see McCartney about 8 years ago at the United Center in Chicago. It was the first time he had been to town in a while, he had just released a fairly good record, Driving Rain. A friend of mine had offered me a ticket at the last minute.

Not free, mind you.

But it was a buck and a half very well spent. I went into this show thinking that it was going to be some gray haired, geriatric, viagra using group of party animals. What I got, though, was quite the opposite:

One of the most rockin' shows ever.

I was stunned, to say the least. He had a four piece band behind him, all of the guys in the band just kids in their '20s, all of them hungry. They played Mac's music like it was their own. They rocked with fury and authority, and convinced you that songs like Help and I Saw Her Standing There were still ass-kicking rockers; old tunes with new energy. His drummer even sang (you should almost never give the drummer a mic.)

Paul played bass, piano, and guitar that night. At one point, he was alone on stage with just an acoustic guitar, the cavernous arena silent, as he played and sang Blackbird. It served as a sound reminder as to why the Beatles were the best.

Ever.

As for my Ringo experience, it was not nearly as eventful, but it was equally exciting (Ringo is SO underrated, by the way. He's a killer drummer.)

I was working a day job (huh?) downtown and the word on the street was that Ringo was going to be making an appearance at the Hard Rock Hotel that day, his birthday, to give a live press conference urging the world to all give the "peace sign", simultaneously, at noon, in solidarity of having...

You guessed it. World peace.

Right.

Anyways, I happened to be working right next door to the hotel, so I figured I'd try to get a glimpse. So I go down to the street, walk to the hotel, and see TONS of people. Thousands, if not hundreds. I make my way and stake out my spot. It just so happens that I was standing right next to a door that He was going to come out of to give his conference/peace flash. Apparently, this door was not the original point of exit, so I had a clear shot of seeing him.

And at high noon, the door opens, and out comes Ringo, all 5'2" of him (or however tall he is. He's a pretty short dude.) I was only a few feet from him. The moment lasted 5 seconds, tops.

But, boy, it was cool. I was/this/close to an actual Beatle.

New York should feel lucky that they got to see the last surviving Beatles share the stage again.

We should be so lucky in Chicago.

So it goes...

Opening Day

2009-04-06T12:24:00.003-05:00

Ah.

The first week of April. Just like always, there's snow on the ground here in Chicago. Perfect for opening day.

Luckily, the Cubs begin their 101st season of (hopefully not) futility in the warm bosom of Houston's Minute Maid Park, formerly Enron "take the money and run" Field. That stadium is domed, climate regulated, and almost makes you feel like you're not actually in Texas.

Oh to dream.

Speaking of dreams, I didn't have any last night, since I couldn't sleep, with opening day just hours away. All I could do was anxiously think, and ask myself unanswerable questions. Mostly, it was, "Why am I falling for it again this year?"

Just like last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the...

Is the team really ready? I mean, I know that they're picked to win the division. Again. But there is not much depth with the starting pitching. Even a baseball novice knows that pitching is everything. Is success in the post season going to be a reality this year?

Yes, the staff is anchored by the Big Z, Carlos Zambrano, who can be lights out at times, so long as his feelings or ego aren't bruised. Is he still the wild man that Cubs fans have gotten familiar with over the years? Or will he be the next coming of Cy Young (winningest pitcher of all time), with a calmer and more focused demeanor?

He gets the start tonight, giving him his 5th call (the most opening day starts in franchise history) to begin the season.

He has yet to win an opening day start.

So "Cub-like".

Then there's Ryan Dempster, starter turned closer turned starter. He's a solid pitcher for sure, despite his Canadian background (yeah, he can skate, too). Last year may have been a career year for him; he was excellent for the most part.

The other 3 starters (Ted Lilly, Rich Harden, and Sean Marshall) are solid. All three of them could be a no.1 or no. 2 starter on most any other team. Lilly and Marshall are both lefty's, which is huge for the team. Manager LouPiniella likes the odds that are produced when there is a balance of right and left handed pitching (Lou is a big, big, BIG stat guy).

Harden? Well, hopefully he can just stay healthy and actually make it through a season (for once) without injury. If that can happen, then look out.

But as I said, beyond the 5 starting pitchers on the active roster, that's about it. Jeff Smardzija, who was sent to AAA Iowa so that he could be an every 5th day starter, will be a strong call-up, whenever that may be. It will certainly be before September, when the roster expands to 40 players, and likely before All-Star break, barring a miracle of the current starters having stellar, and I mean STELLAR, first halves of the season.

Highly unlikely.

Oh, to dream.

So it goes...

Commenting on the Cardinal's Comments

2009-04-02T14:06:00.006-05:00

They say that you should never talk about religion or politics when you're in a bar.

Luckily, I'm sitting in my kitchen.

Today, like most days, I'm flipping through my trusted (and currently in chapter 11 bankruptcy) Sun-Times, online (oops), when the headline screams at me: "Cardinal George: ND Obama invite an 'embarrassment'."

The article quotes the good Cardinal as saying it's an "extreme embarrassment," for the Golden Domers to have invited him to speak at this year's commencement.

Huh? We're talking about the current President of the United States, right?

Let's be perfectly clear on this. George W. Bush, was an extreme embarrassment.

Period.

He's a liar and a war criminal and a fear mongering you-know-what. Hopefully, he'll be prosecuted for these and other shortcomings at some point in the future.

Obama, regardless of where your support lies, hasn't been in charge long enough to have earned that distinguishing moniker.

Moving on.

Who does the Cardinal think he is, anyways? For a man in such a distinguished position of leadership, he's really set a poor example for all of the kiddies (what happened to love thy neighbor, he who is without sin, and all that jazz). I'm sorry if I offend anybody, as it is not my intention to do so (I might as well get the apology out before the fact, a true patriotic act, eh), but he's got some nerve. Especially as a man of the cloth.

First of all, if the POTUS (President of the United States) wants to speak at your behest, even if it were George II, it's an (gulp) honor. Kids start learning of the respect Americans hold for the Office of the President at a very young age. Even Catholic children. After all, being President puts you in more of an elite club than being in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. So if he, or someday she, is willing to come and speak at your school, or church, or mosque, then props to you.

Take that ball and run with it.

Don't, as an organizational leader, whine and cry and publicly denounce this event. Find the good and positive things to promote for all Americans, not just the Catholic ones. After all, our country is in a royal mess. I mean bad. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. We, as a society, need to find common ground. Unity. What's best for the many, not for the few. We just don't need any more trivial and petty fighting among various American tribes.

This is the real embarrassment.

So what if Obama's views differ from Catholic beliefs? Some of mine are different, to be sure. So are many other peoples'. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the previous Presidents who spoke there (Carter, Reagan, Bush I and II) had some different opinions on things good and evil as well.

He's. The. President.

Let's face it. In addition to being an extremely large religious group, the Catholic Church is a major corporation, and run accordingly (college football EXCLUSIVELY on NBC, anyone?). The Church even has had it's share of scandal and corruption embedded into it's makeup and reputation, just like other monster corporations (see Enron, AIG). These few statements, alone, weakens the proverbial moral compass that the Church possess. Plus, and most importantly, I'm quite sure that Notre Dame is very happy to allow students of any faith to attend their prestigious school.

So long as the tuition gets paid, that is.

Plus, Notre Dame has a proud (yes, proud) tradition of inviting a sitting (yes, sitting) president to come and speak. This is not an unusual event.

Cardinal George knows this, as does Cardinal Timothy Dolan, archbishop of New York, and the other archbishops who've jumped on the anti-Obama soapbox.

So really, what is the embarrassment really all about? Is it really about stem cells? C'mon. If Catholics really feel this way, as Cardinal George would suggest, then maybe he should figure a way to get Catholics out of America entirely. After all, if this issue of stem cell research goes so horribly against the tenets of the group that you are supposedly bound to, then you can't possibly feel good about being part of American society. So you might as well just go and live among people that don't see the value of such unbelievably unbelievable science.

Now there's a solution.

Since he's a prominent and major Catholic leader, perhaps that should be a responsibility he'd be willing to take on. He knows best, right? Maybe it will get him that Papal gig he seemed to have missed out on a coupla years ago.

So it goes...

The Stonecipher Report

2009-04-02T09:23:00.003-05:00

I've recently become a guest blogger for The Stonecipher Report. Politics and sports. You can check out what I think about the Cubs all season long.

Quite a combination, no?

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Olympics 2016

2009-04-01T10:06:00.008-05:00

The IOC (International Olympic Committee) is hitting town this weekend for a little "performance review" of our fair city.

Ok, our not-necessarily-fair city.

The 13-member panel, according to today's Sun-Times, will "examine everything from proposed sporting venues to the city's public transit system to the financing for the city's $4.8 billion bid."

In my neighborhood, which is Roscoe Village on the North Side, it looks like a war-zone with all of the potholes that the city hasn't fixed yet. There are literally thousands of them. There are also numerous empty storefronts/condos/houses available (sale or lease) that nobody can seem to afford. Lot's and lot's and lot's of apartments are currently for rent with the prices dropping by the hour (you still think you'll get 5 grand for your place during the games?)

The IOC panelists, none of whom are from the States (lucky), will stay at the swanky Fairmont hotel, downtown. They'll be sampling the uber-fine cuisine from 3 of the city's top chefs. And then, to finish it off, there will be some sort of "cultural event" at the now-$18-a-pop Art Institute.

They'll be here for 6 glorious days, seeing the city's best and brightest facade (kinda like homeland security- all show, no substance), doing things most Chicagoans don't or can't do.

And you know, you KNOW, that we, the taxpayers, will certainly and inevitably foot the $4.8 billion bill at the end of the day.

So it goes...

Another Blue Monday Jam Session

2009-03-31T15:00:00.009-05:00

The weekly blues jam at Buddy Guy's Legends was happenin' last night. Seems like all the characters came out to prowl the city at night.

I had the pleasure of playing with the house band, Brother John Kattke, subbing for his regular guy, Marty "Boom Boom" Binder. The Legendary Paul Stref was on the gig, playing bass (awesome), and the horn section was there, sans Marqueal Jordan (and the cool Otis Redding stuff he pulls out- too bad).

A great lineup, for sure.

I've played with John's group quite a bit over the last dozen-or-so years, but I'm not his regular guy, by any means. So whenever I do this gig, I'm never on auto-pilot. I'm always thinking about the tunes, remembering different changes and "hits", watching for cues, etc; the usual stuff you gotta do when you're a sub.

John's got extensive repertoire, so there really is no way to prepare for one of his gigs. I've got about 9 CD's of the various tunes he does, and that's still not the complete Kattke collection. So I listen to a few, and hope that those are some of the tunes that he picks. Luckily, they're all GOOD tunes, and I pretty much (key words being "pretty much") know them all more or less.

Sometimes more, sometimes less.

So we did our set, about an hour long. Some of my personal faves of the set were "Blackjack", by Ray Charles, and "I Got Loaded", the Los Lobos arrangement. We ended our part of the show with "Hillbillies From Outer Space," from the Vaughan Brothers. It's a very hip Texas shuffle (which is a little lazier than a Chicago shuffle) that I played brushes on, not a typical way to end a set. John even tossed me a solo to finish off the set. Totally cool, and the band sounded great.

Bring on the jammers.

Actually, the talent level was quite high. There were a handful of guitar guys that I had never seen, but they were more than serviceable (hey,at least they're trying). Otherwise, the quality was high. Some good bass players came through as well, including Melvin Smith, bass player for Koko Taylor's Blues Machine. I hadn't seen him in a while.

Another old friend, Homie (honestly that's his name), was there too, hanging with Sammy Fender. He used to be a drummer back in the day, as they say (whatever day that was, anyways), working for Buddy way back as far as the Vanguard days.

Gave it up to make a living.

Smart guy, I suppose. He was certainly in fine form, though, holding court for a while at the bar, and then in the VIP section, which is stage left, telling stories I can't repeat and sipping on his seemingly never empty glass of red wine.

Homie's cool.

Tommy McKracken was there, the black Elvis. I've written about Tommy before, as some readers (hopefully) may recall. He's a riot. Far and away, he's the hardest working guy you could ever hope to see on a Monday night. Each time I see him, he gives it his all. That's quite an accomplishment, considering that he does the same. routine. every. single. time.

His set starts with big hits on the "C", then the "F" then "B flat" (or whatever chords he calls), and then into a swing shuffle, "Have You Ever Seen a One-Eyed Woman Cry." He's got his hips gyrating, the microphone swinging, the mic stand bouncing, and the people are wrapped around his finger. He's dancing and clapping and snapping, passing solos around, singing a verse or two, then doing it some more. You'd never believe that this guy could work a crowd so well if you haven't seen him up close and personally.

Then it's his slow blues, "Little Blue Bird." A classic B.B. King tune.

The end of the song always is a sort of preaching section, giving props to waking up in the morning ("a wonderful thing happened to me this morning; I woke up"), and crying the blues about the woman that can't be satisfied and left him. After each little statement that he makes, he cues the band to hit a chord, quick and short.

He makes a lot of little statements.

He gets off the stage with the same swagger he got on with.

The players got switched around after Tommy's set, and it was time for Holly B. Maxwell to do her thing. She's the self proclaimed "new blonde bombshell," and she certainly is. Holly is a large woman, over 6 feet. She always wears bright and stylish outfits, tight around her hips and thighs which are quite large and round (baby got back). And she's got the BLONDE wig.

It's screaming blonde.

It totally completes her persona.

Holly always starts with a medium tempo shuffle, singing about how, "I don't need no instant breakfast, 'cuz I'm hongry..." (Notice: hongry, not hungry.) That's how she sounds, in that loud, throaty, growling blues mama voice that you'd expect from a woman of her, uh, stature.

HONGRY.

And her schtick is as you would expect from a blues mama. She oozes sexuality, whether it's with the band on the stand or the guy sitting in the front row with his wife and mother-in-law. Lot's of hip shakin' and rubbing and bumping and grinding. Blues cabaret, basically.

Just like that, seemingly, the clock reached 1:00. Show's over. Time to go.

Another successful Monday.

So it goes...

Sorry Strikers

2009-03-30T09:53:00.006-05:00

The Fraternal Order of Police is going to picket City Hall on Thursday, angry about and offended by the proposed 16% pay raise, over 5 years, that's on the table right now.

Also on Thursday, the International Olympic committee will be in Chicago, visiting the city as part of the "process" for trying to get the 2016 games.

Coincidence?

Of course, the cynical me (is there any other kind?) would never see it that way. It's obvious, isn't it? The cops want a better contract, so they're gonna picket on a day where the IOC has wide eyes and the mayor is (potentially? maybe?) vulnerable. It certainly could help 'em get what they want. It makes sense.

Very bold.

The FOP is not generally bold.

Very European, too.

In France, for example, there are strikes and protests all the time. People will take to the streets for almost anything. Say what you will about those crazy Frogs, at least they do something when they're pissed. Far too often, here in the good old U.S.A., folks are inclined to just sit and complain; feign outrage.

Write stupid blogs.

Nothing really gets done.

The French, though? When Paris was an Olympic bid city (for the 2012 games), the public transit workers went on strike during an IOC visit. No bus service. No subway service. It affected commuter trains, and ultimately, flights at the airports were delayed. All of the main trade unions went on strike as well. Paris was brought to a virtual standstill. What kind of impression do you think was left with the IOC?

London was awarded the games.

Now, the FOP has come out publicly saying that the timing of their protest IS, in fact, a coincidence, and that the visit from the IOC has nothing to do with anything. That's just how the chips fell. No hard feelings.

Huh?

Why would the FOP just give away a bunch of (very rare) leverage by claiming the timing of the protest is just coincidence. They could have taken the ball and run with it; they were already on a roll anyways. Last week, they gave Supt. Jody Weis a vote of "no-confidence." This week their protest will take place. Dare I say that they could have actually had the mayor by the proverbial you-know-what?

Nobody gets that opportunity.

The CTA already stinks, so a strike by them couldn't possibly carry much weight.

Not that I'm pulling for the cops pay raise OR the Olympics in 2016, anyways.

So it goes...

Thanks for Coming

2009-03-29T22:43:00.004-05:00

I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thanks to everyone who has been reading my crap. Some of you are coming every day. I appreciate it.

I encourage you to become a follower of my blog so that you can keep up on a regular basis with my rants and rambling rubbish. Also feel free to look at my new(ish) page, The Chicago Photo Blog. It's just a site of pictures that I've taken around the city that I think are cool. My hope is to post a new one daily for your certain enjoyment. We'll see if I have the gumption.

http://thechicagophotoblog.blogspot.com

Feel free to send me your pics to put up there. I'll do it if it's a cool one (and you actually took it).

Really.

Tell your friends too. They'll dig it.

So it goes...

Cub Cackling

2009-03-29T11:42:00.007-05:00

Well, we're going into week 7 of the seemingly longest spring training in the history of Major League baseball, and there is fresh snow on the ground. I can't decide whether to laugh or cry at this point.

More snow?

Not exactly inspiration for the follies of the boys of summer.

Nevertheless, the season starts in just a few more days, and everyone seems very giddy for the start of the real games. Rightly so. The WBC didn't exactly excite the fans, not in this country, anyways (kudos to Japan.) The U.S. team couldn't get all of the players it wanted for the showcase (Lee, Ramirez), and while respectable, the team's results were less than stellar. Whose idea was it to have this tournament during the U.S. spring training, anyways, Mr. Commish?

So now, with only a few days remaining, Fukodome needs to get on track, as does Ted Lilly (making his first start of the spring today.) As of this writing, a closer was not yet named, and there is still a reserve spot or 2 to fill. I'm, personally, in favor of So Taguchi making the team. He killed us when he was a Cardinal, so maybe the ex-factor will be in our favor, for a change. Plus, he is a defending world champion (albeit with another team, but so what.) He's also Japanese (WBC champs), which means he brings a high level of respect and professionalism to the game, as is customary of players from that island nation. There are some important decisions to be made for sure.

Big Z looks good (and big) and ready, so I'm cool with him right now. He's a stud, let's face it. Plus, he's going to be taking his U.S. citizenship test soon, which means that his mood is probably good (fat contract, citizenship, Chicago baseball god- not a bad life, eh, Carlos?.) We all know what kind of meltdowns can occur when Carlos is upset.

Despite everything, though, this is the Cubs, after all. The expectations certainly aren't, how shall I put it nicely, that high anymore.

Now if I could only decide to go out and shovel.

So it goes...

90 Miles Munch

2009-03-27T14:07:00.003-05:00

The first ever restaurant review to grace these pages.

Hallelujah, right?

Ok, so I'm not exactly a food critic. However, this isn't exactly your typical restaurant review.

I like this Cuban joint in my 'hood quite a bit, called 90 Miles Cuban Cafe. I seem to be making the block and a half walk quite regularly, usually in the late morning/early afternoon.

The restaurant is small, with only a dozen or so bar stools lining the walls of the place. It's quaint and convivial, airy and bright, the walls adorned with old newspaper clippings and ads and fliers from Cuba circa 1950. They make an excellent cafe con leche and an even better guava and cheese empanada, the pastry being crisp and light. Yum.

The actual (non-dessert) food is great too. The house specialty is the Cubano sandwich. It's basically a panini with ham and pork (yes, I know that ham is pork, as well, so just stop right there), melted cheese, pickle, onion, and mustard, and garnished with home made plantain chips.

Real Cuban food.

Delicious.

(Why, yes, another pastry DOES sound good , thanks.)

What's really nice about this place, though, are the people who run the joint, Alberto and Christine, a very cool and hospitable couple. It's obvious that they love the enterprise they've built and that they are very genuine in terms of delivering something that is excellent, as well as unique. They also finish every conversation/transaction with, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

There's a sticker on the cash register saying the same thing. Funny.

Cuba is a place I've always wanted to visit. Obviously, as an American, we are verboten from visiting those commies. For some reason, the U.S. still hates and fears the tiny island nation, even though the rest of the western world considers Cuba an extremely attractive tourist destination (the value of Cuban currency is based on the Euro and not U.S. dollars any more, by the way).

Castro has been rubbing the proverbial egg in the face of America since the revolution.

And he's still in charge, despite all of the States' best efforts to stop him.

Talk about having a good run of it.

One day, sooner rather than later, I'll be taking the flight from Negril to Havana during my annual Carribean Christmas romp (the Cubans, after all, DO want us there.) It takes relatively no time to get there, and you can do it with relatively little fear of getting caught by our ever-so-watchful government.

(They should fear us. Have I said that lately?)

Havana is supposed to be happenin' and hoppin'. A city full of life and living. There's live music and dancing and singing and eating and drinking and swinging from the chandeliers all night long. It's one of the last places in the world, really, where you can still go out and have fun at all hours.

Is there any place left to hear live music all night long?

See you tomorrow.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- Still, More Cameras?

2009-03-26T14:23:00.006-05:00

I'm reading the paper, waiting for laundry to finish.

Present tense.

There is a little blurb about even more legislation involving cameras on the road. This time, Sen. Terry Link (D- Vernon Hills) has introduced a bill in Springfield that would ,"authorize cities within Cook County, the collar counties and two counties near St. Louis to erect speeding cameras, beginning next January."

You'd receive a possible $100 fine in the mail (but it would not, miraculously, count toward your 3 moving violation limitation).

The good Senator said the purpose of the bill was to, "Save Lives. Period. If you want to save lives, this is the way we've got to do it."

Uh, yeah. Right. Save lives. Got it.

So we're not talking about yet another friggin' revenue stream via the proverbial ankle hanging?

Uh, yeah. Right. Save lives. Got it.

The government will save my life, 'cause they're so effective with everything else that they do for my, alleged, benefit.

Sigh.

So it goes...

Short Burst Series- 3 for 1, chicago style

2009-03-25T10:08:00.004-05:00

I've recently read a great book. Unbelievable, really.

It's called Gang Leader for a Day: A Rogue Sociologist Takes to the Streets, by Sudhir Venkatesh.

The book is non-fiction, documenting the author's life as a University of Chicago grad student and the "project" that he takes on, which in the beginning is basically "what is it like to be black and poor."

No, this is not going to be going on and on as an intellectual exercise in literature, as some of you may (hopefully not) fear. Don't worry.

This guy, the author, just a kid from the 'burbs, really, basically walks into an apartment building in the Robert Taylor Homes with a clipboard and a questionnaire. As you can imagine (or not), the building is run down, dirty, dangerous. Typical for the projects. A bunch of gang bangers are acting as " security detail" for the building. Needless to say, the author is detained, hassled.

The story begins, then. What happens is that Venkatesh actually develops a bond, a friendship, really, with the gang's leader. They start hanging with each other. Daily.

For years.

It's unbelievable, like I said. This was an actual, functioning, underground society, with it's own economy and hierarchy, both within and outside of the gang. It's not like anything you could imagine, unless you've had first hand experience (I certainly don't, although I may or may not have some degenerate friends that may or may not have crossed those lines, though I can't be sure, wink wink.)

And at one point, the author actually IS in charge of the gang for a day. Meaning that he was the one to make all of the important decisions for the leader to implement, which were all about the economics of the projects and the drug business, and how all of the people in the community are intertwined as a result; relationships, friendships, where your loyalties lie. It's not just about ass whooping and drive-by shooting, as one might expect. Far more interesting, to be sure.

So that's it. It's a good book, a quick read, and one of the most interesting stories you could come across.

********************

Parking meters.

Hate them.

A lot.

I've complained on these pages before about the mayor selling off the city, and I'm doing it again. I've read in today's Sun-Times about the "boycott" of meters that is seemingly going on. Carol Marin is the writer, and she tells of all of the empty spaces available in traditionally congested areas where parking is a challenge, usually.

Is the public actually taking a stand on something, for a change?

I've noticed myself, and it's no surprise, really. Last week I did this gig downtown around Dearborn and Huron. The Gold Coast (aptly named). It was a Thursday, usually a big going out night in Chicago. I had my pick of spots up and down the block.

I also needed, I believe, 7 quarters for the last 35 minutes of "pay time" (I parked at 8:25. You only have to pay up until 9:00. A stroke of luck!).

Pick me up by my ankles and just shake the change out. It's quicker and easier.

Maybe.

********************

I made an unprecedented appearance, yesterday, in Traffic Court.

Glorious.

That's the only word to describe it.

It started off in typical, post 9/11 fashion: Please line up against the wall (for the x-ray machine and metal detector). Take all of your belongings out of your pockets and put them in your coat or purse. Take off your belt. Take off your hat. Stand single file.

Is this traffic court or O'hare?

The officer in charge of keeping "order" was almost like a carnival hawker, barking out the rules over and over and over and over.

And over.

I stood in this line for an eternity (ok, maybe 15 minutes). Of course, there were plenty of people in line that still didn't get the memo (equal criticism is my motto), asking if they needed to put their coat through x-ray. People were actually oblivious as to what the purpose of this line that they were standing in was.

After the (in)security check, I go to my courtroom, check in, and take a seat. Another deputy is barking orders for conduct in the courtroom. Basically, sit down and shut up. Take off your hat. Turn off your phone. No talking. Ah, the feeling of civic pride becomes overwhelming.

Did I mention that this was BEFORE court was in session?

Once the festivities started, things moved seemingly very quickly and efficiently, with each case lasting just a minute or two. Most cases were dismissed because the officer that wrote the ticket(s) was not in court.

Aren't we in a budget crisis, Mayor "I'll sell your soul, too" Daley? Shouldn't these officers be in court for the coffers to get nice and fat?

My case was dismissed AND my officer was there. Funny, huh? At first, I was pretty irked because my cop was the only one that showed up.

The only one.

I went to court banking on the cop not showing. Everyone said, "Oh, you gotta plead not guilty. The cop probably won't show up. You'll get off just for the effort."

Great.

However, in the city that works, it seemed as though the cop had to go do his. Work, that is. You see, since I pleaded "not guilty", that means that they have to give me a trial, not just a bench decision. The trials occur after all of the bench decisions are done. So the trials are at the end of the day. I can only assume that the officer did not want to spend who knows how long in traffic court so that I could get my trial. After about 45 minutes sitting in there, the officer gets up, says something to the city's prosecutor, and then leaves. My name is immediately called again.

"The officer does not remember the incident, so the city has decided to drop the charges," says the judge, his beady little eyes peering at me over his glasses.

Success. He gives me my license, and I'm outta there. The city does not get my dough.

Not picking me up by my ankles.

This time, anyways.

They'll keep trying, though.

So it goes...