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?
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.) ************************************************************************************
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 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. KingandJerry 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.
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...
************************************************************************************* photo stolen from mashable.com
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...
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.
"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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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'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.
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.
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 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:
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:
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.)
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.
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.)
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.)
Pro Musician, Chicagoan, Globe-Trotter. Making a life of telling it like it is...
Mostly these pages are about me and my life as an insider in the music industry. You'll also get a few thoughts on other things affecting my life like politics, sports, art, and city life. After all, I can't complain about the music biz every day, can I? These are the things that I find amusing and entertaining and worthy of a healthy rant. I hope you do too.
To quote the late, great Kurt Vonnegut, Jr: So It Goes... email me at: mrodbard@yahoo.com
So let's see...These are things I learned today.
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