Reprise

Exposition

It all began early last week. My Band, Tung N' Groove, has been hard at work trying to expand our fanbase, and by doing so, one of the necessary things to do is to play in more venues. So we were pleased as punch when the owner of the Mainliner Pub agreed to have Tung N' Groove play at his pub -- which was scheduled to be on July 18-19, 2008.

Things changed rapidly when the owner of the Mainliner called our guitarist DH last week and insisted to change the band's booking date to June 27-28. As it turned out, our bass player couldn't make it due to family commitments.

DH really didn't want to lose the gig to another band, since he is also a member of Mule Shoe, he called the boys in that band to see if they could play the gig instead. As it turns out, their drummer, JY, was working out of town, so it appeared Mule Shoe wouldn't be able play the gig.

Then DH had an idea: Since MC Fro was once a member of Mule Shoe, why don't we get him to fill in on drums? After consultation with all the members of the band -- myself included -- that's exactly what happened.


The Story

Now, longtime readers of my little weblog will know that my experience in Mule Shoe wasn't exactly a walk in the park. If you remember, I was fired from the band because the bass player wanted to make music with his son. There was nothing I ever did wrong to warrant dismissal; it was just nepostism, pure and simple. Personality-wise, I always got along with the guys in the band -- so I wasn't worried about that -- but going into the situation, I was a little apprehensive. Perhaps I felt like I was re-opening old wounds, maybe fate was originally telling me that I wasn't supposed to be in that band, perhaps I didn't want to be exposed to some of the particulars, politics, and idiosyncracies of selected members. You might be able to relate to this comparison, but have you been able to get along with certain people individually, but put them together, and all hell breaks loose? Mule Shoe isn't exactly like this, but from my perspective, it could be compared to this in certain situations. A band is a business, and a relationship. It is much more than that in one respect, and in others, it's really nothing more than a working partnership.

Geez, what I put myslef into, just to make a couple hundred bucks.

Given my track record with local bands, I have tried to keep my involvement as professional as possible -- not get too close to the members of the band, and not put my heart into the music too deeply. Thus, if things go awry, then the separation isn't so painful.

I did take the job, promising myself to play my absolute best.

I was once a member of Mule Shoe, but that was three years ago. Many questions were going through my head. Would I remember all the songs? Did they learn a pile of new ones that I don't know? They released an album in late 2004; would they want to play any originals, and if so, how many?

All the questions led me to believe that I should sit down and review all their material. The problem is -- is that there isn't a set list anywhere. Even the guys in the band never carried set lists. If I racked my brain and scoured my iTunes collection, I only could come up with about 20 songs that I recalled Mule Shoe ever playing -- and that's about half of what's required to play a night's worth of material in a pub. I have also been incredibly busy as of late, so I haven't had the time to sit down and review anything.

So I went into the gig cold.

And what came out of my hands over two nights was nothing short of a miracle. All the covers -- even the originals -- came out with so much accuracy and precision that I left the other bandmates speechless. I even surprised myself at the accuracy of my long-term memory. I did not play perfectly -- when music is as subjective as it is, there will always be room for improvement -- but to the casual listener, these errors would have been entirely missed.

In the end, it was great to catch up with all they guys in the band again. We had lots of good laughs, many hugs and handshakes, and we made some pretty-good-sounding music. The crowd was decent, and supportive on both evenings. We all walked out with smiles on our faces.

What did I learn? Why should there be a moral to every story? I guess that means to be professional on all levels all the time. And play every gig like it's your last.

2007: Year of the Empty Bank Account

Before I get into too many details, I'd like to wish my readers a belated Merry Humbug and a Happy Hangover Day. I hope your last week has been filled with joy, fellowship, and lots of 'walking through the winter, drink in hand'.

The pillaging of the tree this year wasn't quite the cache as it has been in years past, though all I really asked for was clothes. I did however, brave the lineup at Visions on Boxing Day, and walked out with a 40" Samsung LCD high-definition television. I'll be feeling the pinch of that purchase when my January credit card bill arrives.

It has somewhat been a bit of a yearly tradition here at mcfro.blogspot.com that I take a few minutes on the first day of the new year to reflect what I accomplished this year, and what I would expect in the next 52 weeks to come.

Sifting through this year's posts, I have come to the early conclusion that I really didn't accomplish anything, given the astounding few number of posts there have been. I mean, there were at least three months were I didn't blog at all. Like I have said on here ad nauseum, I have been busy -- I've been lazy too, lethargic, exhausted, and unmotivated. It's all derived from worker burnout, and is a big reason why my New Year's resolution is to find a healthier work/life balance. Money can buy lots of things; but it can't buy sleep.

2007 got off to a very expensive start, as I quickly dropped four digits into a newer, faster, and larger iMac, which has, more or less, become a machine I use for audio production. Since the successful resurrection of my derelict iBook, I spend most of my web-surfing time on it instead of the desktop machine. Sure it's not the fastest, but it's good enough for most mundane tasks, and even runs a number of video games quite nicely. The laptop also keeps me out of the windowless basement, which ensures that I see more sunlight -- indispensable for someone like me who goes through mood wings and bouts of depression.

2007 continued with a string of large purchases, as in April I added a third drumset to my arsenal. Price is relative: though I got a great deal on the kit, I still paid a pretty penny for it. I have subsequently spent small sums over the course of the year for replacement parts and upgrades. The Canwoods have also seen a number of gigs already, so they are paying for themselves -- if they haven't already.

An expensive set of concert tickets allowed me to see the Police in concert in Edmonton. After paying for fuel, meals, accommodations, and toys, the trip escalated well into four digits, but it was worth every penny to see Stewart, Sting, And Summers together for the first time in nearly 25 years.

June also saw the most successful blog post on this site, ever. Skeet from medhatblog.com kindly linked to me from the website. Though it didn't elicit comments as I had hoped, it did generate scores of traffic -- over tenfold what I was accustomed to. It even increased my readership -- albeit temporarily. Had I continued blogging regularly, I may have managed to keep those readers, but they have since gone.

I guess this was where I really got lazy. Now that I was generating a great deal more traffic than I had been, I also felt increasing pressure to be delivering work of exceptional quality in order to maintain that readership. That was, to say the least a little daunting. In one hand, the site was beginning to become what I had wanted it to become (popular!). On the other hand, I didn't have the energy to invest the time and effort required to make this site what it was becoming. So I sat on my haunches and meditated on what I wanted to do with this site. The next thing I knew, nearly four months had passed, with nary a post on this site, and all my readers found other weblogs to be entertained by. Thus, the answer became clear -- I'll just write about my insignificant little life whenever I am inspired, and if readership increases, great. If they do not, that's still great too.

The first entry since my 'hiatus', was a review of Matthew Good's performance at Medicine Hat College this November. The posting also generated a fair amount of interest from readers across Canada, including a few views from Mr. Good himself. He didn't drop a note, but he left a trail of bread crumbs that said he had been here.

Musically, 2007 has been a year of transition and flux. The Savoys took an extra long vacation this year, and by the time the band got back together to prepare for this year, it became clear that the band would be falling apart. We have best intentions to continue in 2008, and we are currently auditioning a replacement for BG, which we should know in a week if he is the right guy -- or not.

Tung 'N' Groove also got out of our heads and onto the stage. It took a great deal of rehearsing, and a large number of hefty equipment purchases, but we are now gigging regularly, and continue to build a dedicated following. We have secured a number of dates for 2008, which will be posted on the band's website when I have both time and motivation.

I hope everyone's 2008 is a prosperous one. See you (hopefully) soon.

In the Doghouse

So yesterday, out of the blue, SK drops me a line. Our conversation kinda went something like this:

SK: Hey MC, it's SK. What'cha doing this Saturday?

MC: No plans.

SK: Wanna gig?

MC: Sure. When, where and how much?

So tonight, I will be playing at some club in town called The Dog House, or The Dog Pound, or Who Let The Dogs Out.

Oh, to Hell with it. It used to be called Waldo's Pub.

SK, RH and I will be playing from 8:00 until 9:30 as the opening act.

See you there.

Bring your friends.

Tung N' Groove Site Officially Open

The Tung N' Groove Website has been declared officially open. I had to move up my schedule, as it was brought to my attention today that Tung N' groove's debut has been moved up to May 18, 2007 at the Redcliff Hylton.

We have a lot of preparations to complete before we are ready to hit the stage that May evening, bit it's going to be worth it. It will be well worth the wait.

Tung N' Groove Makes Another Step Forward

Our showcases at local clubs have paid off. The Blue Turtle and the Royal Hotel -- with only one showcase at each club, have booked Tung N' Groove into their clubs this summer and fall. We are very excited to be an official local act, and we are looking forward to entertaining crowds young and old.

The next task at hand is to learn another 30 songs before August -- perhaps sooner, if we can pick up some more gig dates in the summer at other bars and pubs around town. We will be examining the feasibility of playing the Redcliff Hylton, the Mainliner Pub, and the Silver Buckle. this year.

Acquiring a PA system for the band will also occupy our summer.

This is near-perfect timing, as the Savoy Blues Band is just wrapping up a few dates in the next few weeks, before going on our annual summer hiatus. MA and I are going to be gigging lots in the coming months.

Amidst all this excitement, I have one other nagging project. To create a website to promote Tung N' Groove. Looks like I will have to manage yet another webpage.

Shot Nerves

I'm on vacation. I don't have to write in my little weblog if I don't feel like it. Truth is, I haven't felt like much of anything this week. I have been so burnt-out, that the only thing that makes sense is sleeping, playing video games, and the consumption of copious amounts of whiskey.

The Savoy blues band gigs tonight at the Silver Buckle. It should be fun; the Buckle has a certain vibe to it, it's cool, rustic, and laid-back. We will be debuting a few new songs tonight, specifically, I will be singing Tower of Powers' "Diggin' on James Brown". That should get all the patrons grooving in their seats.

Tongue & Groove's first so-called "gig" at the Blue Turtle on Tuesday was interesting to say the least. The jam was attended by some of Medicine Hat's finest musicians, so you might say it was a "tough crowd". There was another band's equipment set up on the stage, so right away, you might say we were already at a disadvantage.

Musicians generally don't like playing on other people's rigs. It's kind of like wearing someone else's underwear; you don't really feel as comfortable as you should be.

Overall, the band and our material, was very well-received. Even the bar owners expressed their enthusiasm and appreciation for the new act. The other musicians were quite impressed with the level of professionalism of the band and difficulty of the material. The bar patrons were cheering, clapping, dancing, and drinking -- doing what bar patrons should.

But that's not to say our performance was perfect. Far from it. For what mistakes we made (which were plentiful) we made up for in energy and stage presence. In my opinion, we played like crap. Call it first-gig jitters; call it what you will, but our set started off badly, and that set the tone for the remaining songs.

The stage sound was horrific, and the monitors were poor. I couldn't hear anything; not even my own voice. It was just a sonic assault that didn't quite sound like noise, or music, but something inexplicably in between. Looking and listening for our respective vocal harmonies was an exercise in ear training not quite unlike searching for your keys at the bottom of a murky pier, after accidentally dropping them.

So the sound wasn't that great. The vocals probably sounded like rush-hour traffic, our nerves were shot, we were on other people's equipment, and the adrenaline was pumping.

We never played better. That's probably because there was nothing to compare it to.

My thoughts on the matter is that this is the worst that band will ever sound. It will only get better and stronger from here.

Our first performance might have been a bit premature, but it had to be done -- and sooner rather than later. We now have a much better perspective on the dynamics and limits of the band. We know what works, and what doesn't, and we know what's happening, and more importantly, what needs to be fixed.

It's back to the rehearsal studio on Sunday, to prepare for the next round.

Tongue N' Groove to "Debut" at The Blue Turtle Tuesday

I am on vacation this week. Nonetheless, my week is already filling up, and I have my doubts that I can even get out of town for a couple days.

In my last post, I made mention that my new band, Tongue N' Groove has been rehearsing diligently in recent weeks. We are pleased to announce that we will be appearing at a few clubs in the next few weeks to "test drive" the material.

This Tuesday (that's tomorrow), there is an open stage at the Blue Turtle, beginning at approximately at 9:00pm. Tongue & Groove will be there, and we expect to play a half-dozen songs or so.

I hope any of you interested parties will stop by. I am excited to see how this new band operates from the stage.

2007 Musings

So much for my holidays. Tomorrow, it's back to the rat-race, and I don't feel the least bit rejuvenated. The last ten days has been chock-full of family functions, feeding and watering houseguests, and doing much-needed work around the house.

Overall, Christmas was pretty good to me, although I didn't get the super-thin 12" MacBook Pro I asked Steve Jobs... er... Santa Claus for, I did get a video game that paid homage to two of my childhood passions: Lego and Star Wars. In addition to some much-needed clothing, I also got the Complete Calvin and Hobbes Box Set, which I have only managed to read one of the three volumes.

I thought for a while that I would take this post to reflect on the 2006 that was, and what I could expect to see in the next year. That project seemed like far too much work, so I'm not going to do that this year. I can sum up 2006 six in one word: Madness. I really bit off more than I could chew, and by the looks of things 2007 isn't going to be any better -- in fact, it looks like it's going to be even busier -- at the very least, until September.

The MacBook has been in the shop for two weeks. It still is suffering hardware issues, though the "random shut-down" problem had been fixed, there are issues with the battery. The computer kept telling me that there was no battery attached to the computer, even if there was. Thus, the battery never took a charge. A laptop that can't operate on battery charge is no more than a really small desktop computer. I started to miss the MacBook so much, that I decided to pull out the derelict iBook to see if it worked -- and if I could diagnose the problem. It started fine and ran flawlessly for about five minutes. Then out of nowhere, the screen went garbled, then turned black. So that means the video card is gone, and that's soldered onto the Logic board. It's almost not worth fixing, unless I can find another logic board for about 25 dollars -- which translates to not very likely.

I haven't gigged in a few weeks, which is, in a sense welcome. The same goes with teaching. By next week, my schedule is going to fall back into the chaos it usually is.

DH has also taken some time off recording his album for the Holiday season. However, that project will be put back into high gear in a couple days. As far as progress goes, we are in the middle of tracking the seventh song, and drum tracks for three songs have been cut. So, by any estimations, I guess we are about 2/3 finished the album. That could be translated into another three months until I can breathe a sigh of relief. I never thought that it would take us this long to record the album.

Don't ask me what resolutions I made for the New Year. I don't make resolutions.

Savoys to Rock The Turtle This Weekend

As I just mentioned on the Savoys Webpage, the band has been invited to be special guests at a charity fundraiser at the Blue Turtle this weekend. We were pleased to find out that we were also featured in today's edition of the Medicine Hat News.

I am getting excited about playing the Turtle this weekend. The band will be featuring a lot of new material, many of which will feature yours truly on lead vocal. I hope my voice will hold out until the end of the weekend.

I might be needing many doses of that bad, bad, whiskey.

It's Over...

Last night, I had my final performance as the drummer for Mule Shoe. I decided there would be no better thing to do in the situation except consume a lot of alcohol, and have the best damn time I could.

I figured things would get awkward between the guys in the band and I, but that didn't happen. We played awesome this weekend. The band was very tight, and the crowd loved the music we played.

I ended up not getting quite as drunk as I planned. I still managed to put down 7 Rye and a couple shooters, but by the end of the night, I didn't have that much of a buzz. That's the physical exertion and the adrenaline talking. You sweat like a pig when you are on-stage, and whatever you put in your system just comes out your pores. By the end of the night, I was covered head to toe in perspiration. The Mule Shoe gig was a big test on my endurance -- it's not unlike running a marathon.

And yes, I did learn a few things from the Mule Shoe gig. Every band a musician plays with, should be able to take something new home from the experience. I played grooves that I never have attempted live. I pushed the limits of my 4-limb coordination and independence -- I even played a drum solo every night, which expanded my creativity (this is coming from a drummer who refuses to play drum solos). I learned a few things about endurance, playing hard, and hitting with consistency. Hitting hard is not a style of drumming I have been accustomed to for about 4 years, but it isn't as easy as it looks... It's hard on the equipment, on the mind, and on the body.

Conversely, I am the sort of drummer who likes to play with a "finesse" of sorts. I argue: Let the PA do the work. Dynamics play such an important role in music, and it is the most often overlooked aspect of popular music. Playing dynamically can add so much to a groove or a feel that it can take music to a whole new level. When I hit hard, I lose about 15% of my technique. I can't play as fast, nor as long, as I can when I play within my normal parameters. On the other hand, I can respect the Mule Shoe opinion: there is something to be said about loud, consistent music. There is power all those loud notes.

But there is power in the quiet notes, just as there is power in the notes you don't play.

I was really worried about the outcome of last night's gig. When band lineups change, the end result is not usually good. It's like breaking up with someone you have invested a lot of care and nurture in -- it can become bitter in an instant. I really didn't know what to expect from the other guys. I didn't know if I was going to get all emotional, and become a sentimental, sniffling, blubbering idiot -- something that I do become when I have consumed far too much alcohol.

What did happen was nothing short of blissful. It was all hugs and smiles. It was hardly a goodbye. There were compliments abound, thank-you's, best wishes, and even apologies. Every single one of them came to me privately, and we exchanged kind words. Every one of them felt awkward about saying goodbye, and the circumstances that led to my departure. Every one of them said that they would play with me again in a second. They truly appreciated my professional attitude, my dedication to the band, my talents, my overall conduct, and my friendship over the past few months. You often know when people are feeding you lines, or if they are telling you the truth. All the words exchanged between us last night were truly heartfelt.

I know there are countless people out there who, if were given the same scenario I have been presented with the last two weeks, wouldn't have given a shit about the other guys, or the band. The overwhelming majority would have arrived late, not returned phone calls, sloughed off, got stupidly drunk over the last two weeks, and gave a half-assed performance. Hell, if I was given two weeks' notice at my day job, I would be the laziest son of a bitch in the office, and nothing would get done. Instead, even though I knew my days in Mule Shoe were numbered, I gave it everything I could. This last weekend was likely the best I have played in ages -- if ever. Sure, I wanted to make sure the rest of the guys knew well what it was that they were letting go of -- but it goes deeper than egocentrism. I owed it to the guys in the band, I owed it to the drunken spectators of our performances, and I owed it to myself to be the best damn drummer I could be... and if it's not good enough for them, well, it will just have to be their loss.

They have a lot of talent. They are going to do so well in their respective musical careers. It's unfortunate that I will not be a part of it. This is likely not the place to say this, but now I have my own thing going, and my attention will be focused on the new act. I can't say it will be better than Mule Shoe, it will just be... different.

After all the kind words, the best wishes, the smiles and the hugs, I left the bar last night feeling like a million bucks. Having a professional attitude always pays off in the end. It's not over -- just a new beginning.

Trapper's Pub: March 31 - April 2

You may recall a few months ago, I explained in detail my trip to Calgary with Mule Shoe, especially with respect to our gig at Trapper's Pub. Since I am a person who believes being late is better than never, I would like to present you with select photographs, documenting the experience. Special thanks go to Kelsey for posting the awesome pictures.

Yes, it was a rockin' good time.

Hope to see many of you during my last gig with the guys in Redcliff this weekend.

Oh, The Humanity!

Being a member of a Rock Band, you get to see a lot of shit that you would otherwise never see elsewhere -- especially if you play the bar circuit. Playing in the dives are always more entertaining than playing the "A-Clubs". On a slightly unrelated tangent, I find it amazing that people can be civil to one another, but the moment you pump six beers into them, they become unreasonable animals.

This weekend, I was playing in one of the worst joints I have been in. It was definitely not the worst bar I have been in, but there were some things I have seen this weekend that made me shake my head in disbelief.

There was this useless lush in the bar Thursday night. He was so drunk he could barely walk, barely talk, and I'm sure he forgot his name sometime in the afternoon. By the time we began playing at 9:00, he was quite unruly, and he kept trying to climb up on the stage and talk to us -- while we were playing. The barmaid walked up to him and warned him once to cool it, but it was obvious that the warning didn't sink in. So the barmaid threw him out.

Not five minutes later the idiot lush stumbled back into the bar. The barmaid promptly threw his drunk ass out, but that didn't stop him. A few minutes later, he was back in the bar, and he refused to leave.

This particular bar does not carry a staff of bouncers, though it is in dire need of some. In these riff-raff joints, bouncers are regarded only as expenses, so when things get aggressive, the best thing you can do is say a quick prayer and duck, or get the hell out of the bar.

The barmaid called the cops to get this uncooperative excuse for a human being out of the bar. The cops arrived, and hauled his drunk ass out. I was convinced that would be the last I would see of him that night.

Not twenty minutes later he re-entered the bar -- where he remained until the bar closed. He hadn't been served in over four hours, but there he stayed, consuming precious oxygen in a smoke-filled bar.

I gotta tell you, if I were managing that bar, I would have taken steps to ensure that he would not set foot in that bar for the rest of the night -- and maybe a few days after that. The doctors would have laboured to surgically remove a foot from his colon.

Then there was the old guy last night. When I entered the bar at 8:30, he was completely shit-faced. He was enthusiastic about our music, but I could not understand a single sentence he said, as he was slurring so bad, and his sentences had little content except for seemingly endless streams of profanity: "Shitgoddamnmotherfuckinkeepitrealyougoddamnmotherfuckersyoukickassyousonofabitchesrockthesefuckinwhores"

I had my bets that this drunk wouldn't make it until 10:00. If I was a gambling man, I would have lost dearly this weekend. I watched in disbelief as this old man continued to be served the entire evening. If I drank as much as these guys did, I would either be in a coffin, or dehydrated past the point of mummification.

After Friday's performance, a few of the guys in the band decided to go across town to a truck stop and get some greasy food. I did not join them, but the nest night I began hearing the stories. They were seated next to the same old guy who had watched us all night, who was still muttering incoherently: "Fuckintwobitwhoreswontsellmeagoddamnbeerfuckthisstupidassshit". I would usually laugh at the unsettling nature of such things, but what I saw this weekend was so depressing that I cannot believe how low some people will go.

Which reminds me of the Cougar that was in the bar tonight. She was likely fifty years old, with a face that only a mother could kiss, when she stared at the band we could tell she either took a trip down the stairs, walked into a cupboard, or her husband decided she needed a good ass-whooping. We had only played about three songs, and she jumped on the dance floor, and began dancing by herself to the music. She appeared like she drank a keg herself; she loved the music we were playing, and she was very, very horny. It was only a matter of seconds that she had her shirt off, wildly waving it in the air, and then succeeded to make sweet love to a load-bearing post on the dance floor. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep myself form either vomiting, or stopping our song altogether. By the time the barmaid made it from the bar to the dance floor to stop this nonesense, our drunken cougar was trying her hardest to get her pants unbuttoned. The barmaid wrestled with her, and managed to force her into the ladies' washroom where I assumed that the drunk would be allowed to get herself decent. The two of them emerged a minute later, and the cougar was escorted out of the bar. I think I was quite glad to not see her the rest of the night.

At the end of the set, I asked the other band members to wash my eyes out with Lysol.

I am quite happy that I will not have to perform in that dump in the foreseeable future.

Royal Therapy

I was going to spend some time writing about my experience gigging this weekend, but in light of recent events, I wonder what the point would be. It breaks my heart, because I had such a great time playing with the other members of Mule Shoe, and our performance was musically tight.

Last weekend, we were playing the Royal; my stomping grounds, the place I like to drink and hang out. It was the first time I have played the Royal in over three years, and I used to gig at that bar once every six weeks for four years. I've made a lot of money in that bar, and I've spent a lot on my choice of poisons.

Walking into that bar with my gear in hand on Wednesday night felt like a homecoming. I arrived early, so I could take my time setting my drums up perfectly, relishing in the smoky ambiance, and quietly grooving to the Classic Rock tunes on the jukebox. I was loathing the next two days at work, but I didn't care at the moment, I was going to be playing in front of a few hundred drunken animals over the weekend.

Thursdays at the Royal are generally quiet, but a few friends showed up, supported us and got very drunk. One of the patrons in the bar was RQ, one of my pupils. Sadly, he was moving to Victoria the next day. I consider RQ one of my long-term investments -- he has been taking lessons from me for many years, and we had become good friends over the years. It was tough to see him go, but in the end I know there are greener pastures ahead of him.

Come to think of it, RQ's departure was a bit like a premonition for my departure from Mule Shoe.

The only other event of Thursday night was this obnoxious drunk (every bar has at least one). Wearing a neon green t-shirt that was reminiscent of the late 1980's, he approached us while we were playing, ranting about something or other, likely being overly critical about our choice of material. He was so drunk, he threw his empty glass at the bass player, luckily missing him completely. The bass player gave him a stern warning, though I'm sure it fell on deaf ears, as the drunk maintained his innocence. It wasn't five minutes later that in the middle of the song, the drunk decided to collapse on the lead singer's guitar rig, sending a rather expensive guitar to the floor. It was a good thing the bouncer got hold of the drunk before the bass player did. JY was winding his foot up to give him a swift kick to the face. We never saw the obnoxious drunk for the rest of the night, which was likely a good thing.

Friday and Saturday nights were busier. I ended up having a number of friends show up to support us, which made the long breaks seem to go by much quicker. The bar was packed full of enthusiastic hard rockers, and we played solidly for the remaining two nights.

By Saturday night, I noticed something very strange. I was smiling. I was enjoying myself, I felt good, and I was happy. I remember telling myself that this was proof that music was my calling in life, and I would do everything in my power to continue making music for the remainder of my life. Music is my therapy; my outlet for aggression. It's my reason to get up and crawl out of bed every single day.

Funny how that can be taken away from you without notice. In two weeks, my days of gigging will be put on hold indefinitely -- at least until the next gig rolls around. And this time, I think I will have to be a little more proactive in scheduling practices, gigs, etc... It's a responsibility I have taken for granted for most of my career. Perhaps it's time that I start establishing some ties and begging for work.

This change in my schedule will allow me to put an act together with MA and RH. I have a firm belief that the three of us could manage to throw something together that this city has never seen. I get excited just thinking about it.

Like I said the other night, a part of me was disappointed to no longer be a part of Mule Shoe, but another part was relieved that I could devote my attention to other matters.

It Never Ends

I have not written a post the last few days since I have been running non-stop. Even though the SK gig is finished, and the Volunteer Revue featuring Johnny Casino and the Gamblers has been entered into the history books, I have been booked solid with Müle Shöe practices, students, and meetings. My evening is booked solid tomorrow night, and I have a few commitments over the long weekend, so I imagine that I will be unable to take off somewhere. I may have some time to relax, rest assured I am going to make time so I can catch a playing of "Revenge of the Sith". Regardless, I am looking forward to a couple days off.

There are some other exciting potential developments in my life, but I really can't discuss them until they come to fruition. This does have the potential to drastically change my life, and I'd love to tell you all about it, but I don't want to put a hex on the situation by letting the cat out of the bag. I should know more details within a few weeks.

Tomorrow night, select pupils of mine will be participating in a locally-sponsored talent show. It should keep me booked all evening. I sincerely hope my students have been woodshedding all week.

Catharsis

This weekend was the Volunteer Revue Benefit concert, featuring yours truly, "Johnny Casino and the Gamblers", also known as the Grease Band. We have had numerous rehearsals in the past month that ate up a great deal of my free time, but in the end, it was definitely worth it.

We walked into the theatre Friday night, not really knowing what to expect. It was to be a dress rehearsal, but there were going to be more than sixty performers, many of them I had never met. In fact, the dress rehearsal ended up being very scary. The performances were sub-par, people had no idea what their cues were, the band members could not hear the vocalists we were trying to support, and a two-hour show took three and a half hours for a first-run. Select members of the grease band, myself included unanimously decided to retreat to a local pub to drink away much of the stress that accumulated over the course of the evening.

Last night, I arrived very early to set up my equipment. The other members of the Grease band arrived shortly thereafter, and in true Grease tradition, one of the members brought a bottle of scotch to calm our nerves. I could tell that this was going to be a night of shaky performances, and we would very likely be drowning our reservations throughout the night.

Then the worst possible news was delivered. MA, the newest member of the Grease Band, came into the theatre cursing a blue streak. That afternoon, he broke his hand while working in the yard. His hand was swollen, and he was in a great deal of pain. In true musician fashion, he picked up his guitar and managed to play the entire night, with the help of a lot of scotch.

The half hour before the performance opens, when spectators file into their seats and the curtains are closed are nerve-wracking. You pace the back halls endlessly, your mind rattles as you run through all the numbers in your head, praying that you don't blow your performance, you have to be quiet, so it's difficult to talk with one another without disrupting the stage crew. Some people love those few moments when the energy behind the curtain is electric; others buckle under the pressure.

When the curtain opened to a theatre of about 350 spectators, a miracle happened. It was a stellar performance. The band played well, and the performers nailed their parts. When compared to the previous night, the performance improved one thousand percent. The crowd loved the show, and we loved playing it.

Afterwards, about thirty of the cast and crew wound up at the pub to celebrate the shows' success (instead of drowning their sorrows). The members of the grease band sat together and drank heavy doses of their choice of poisons. I met a number of other musicians, who performed on-stage with us, and we complimented one another on the performance.

Most people would call this ass-kissing; musicians call it "professional development".

As the pub began to empty, remaining members of the Grease band realized that the bar was about to close, and it might be an ideal time to move the party elsewhere. MA decided to come over to my house for a few more beverages. It was about 4:00 in the morning by the time we decided to call it quits.

I am glad to get one project over and done with, but that just opens the door to other gigs, and other performances. I talked to MA about RH, the bass player I gigged with last weekend. The discussions MA and I had points in the direction that the three of us might have a band. I expect the three of us will be getting together next weekend to discuss the possibilities of throwing a killer band together.

If the three of us hook up next weekend, rest assured I will tell you all about it.

Bittersweet Me

SK, who has given me a lot of gigs in recent months, is moving to Australia for an indefinite length of time. He has been the owner/operator of Absynthe Recording Studio for the last three or four years. Coincidentally, he sold the studio to my guitar player Chris, who obtains full ownership Monday.

Things are exciting and turbulent in my local music scene.

I haphazardly ran into SK two nights ago, and he asked me to play a gig this weekend with him. I told him I would, since I have had a great time playing with him, and it's an opportunity to make a few extra bucks. I was informed that we would be playing at a wedding reception, and that RH would be joining us.

I have had an 18-hour "workday" today. I was up at 9:00, and soon on my way to DM's studio where her and I are putting together a recital featuring both our students. These practices are very long for her and I, as we are working with about 6 groups for an hour each, every Saturday, until the day of the June recital. At times it is very difficult to listen to, at other times it is very rewarding, when we watch our pupils grow musically before our very eyes.

As soon as the recital practice with DM and her horde of pupils, I was running like a headless chicken getting my gear into the reception hall before the guests arrived. I met SK and RH at the hall, and set my gear up in a mad rush. I had my drums set up in under 20 minutes, which might be a record for me. I was off and running, grabbing a bite to eat and changing into a suit.

By 8:30, I had arrived at the wedding reception where we were to entertain the crowd.

Once again, myself, SK, and RH played a successful gig without having a rehearsal. We had a great time playing with one another -- the music felt good, we sounded very tight, for the amount of preparation I had, and the crowd loved us.

The thought of SK moving to the Southern Hemisphere is a little bittersweet. He has been very supportive with me, he has given me lots of work, and he has allowed me to network with a new contingent of musicians in this city I would have otherwise not have met. I am going to miss these spontaneous gigs, playing everything from AC/DC to Kool and the Gang; from Steve Miller to Prince; from Classic Rock standards to the most utter fromage you could imagine.

But he introduced me to RH, who is a relative newcomer in this town. Both him and I have hit it off musically. In a lot of ways, he is a lot like me, lovers of the rhythm section. Good bass players are hard to come by in this town, and I consider myself very lucky to have had the opportunity to meet him. RH and I are taking very seriously about putting together a new band to upset the status quo of my local music scene. All we need now is a gifted guitar player, and there are many of those circulating around this city -- it's just a matter of finding the right one.

I am so excited, I can't wait to see what is going to happen in the next few weeks.

Apparently, We Were Called "Absynthe"

Last Saturday, I was hired to play another gig with SK in Bow Island -- a town about 40 minutes west of where I live. Much like other gigs I have played with SK, we did the show with little preparation.

Bow Island is a rural community, with a population less than 2000. We figured that given the rural nature of the town, that we should diversify our repertoire and play about a dozen Country songs in addition to our typical repertoire, which usually consists of Classic and New Rock.

We arrived at the bar with plenty of time to spare, and the first thing we noticed were the huge advertisements announcing our performance. Entire windows were covered in poster paper, and painted in large letters was "Appearing Live April 16th: Absynthe. No Cover Charge".

We thought this was a little humorous, as we never thought up a name for the band. The members of this band changes as frequently as the gigs, so a name was almost irrelevant. I have always thought this act was referred to as "The SK Band". RH, the new bass player, whom I had very recently met, turned to me and said: "Well, I guess we're called Absynthe."

We stepped into a deserted bar. The only occupant was the barmaid, watching the television out of sheer boredom. I had the sinking feeling that this was a sign of things to come, as I played in this bar five years prior during my tenure in Legacy. The last time I played in this bar, we got a lukewarm response from the bar patrons -- the few that were there.

After we set up our gear, and had a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant, "Absynthe" returned to the bar to play our gig. By this time, there were a few patrons in the bar, already drinking heavily. We decided to get the night underway by playing our Country repertoire. The music was not well-received. In contrast, I thought we were playing very well. The sound from the stage was excellent, and in a few short minutes all the members of the band managed to gel with one another. The music sounded tight, the harmonies were in pitch, and we had energy. The problem was, the crowd didn't want to hear Country, and they made it quite clear to us that we had better play some kick-ass rock in the next set.

By the time we finished our first set, the bar was packed. There were people of all ages within -- and they all were in the mood to party. After a twenty minute break, Absynthe returned to the stage and began playing some good old Classic Rock, which they enjoyed much better. The dance floor was packed the entire night, and the people got rowdy.

During one of our breaks, a young female befriended the bass player and I, whom was interested in a few things we had to say. She complimented us, saying we sounded really good. We thanked her for her compliments, since there wasn't much else we could say without sounding cocky. She asked us how long the band had been together. RH and I told her "About three hours," which was met with laughter. "Oh, you're just pulling my leg," she replied: "Seriously, how long has the band been together?"

By this time, RH and I could barely contain ourselves. We both looked at each other for about one second, then turned to her and repeated in concert: "Three hours. Seriously." The attractive female could barely believe what she had heard. We sounded like the band had been together for a few years. It was a huge compliment for us, but both RH and I know that some amazing things can happen when professional musicians jam on the fly.

The night was hugely successful. We played until 2:00 in the morning, the crowd wanted us to continue playing, in fact, the management enjoyed our entertainment so much, they asked us to return to the bar in the future. I think I would like to come back to that bar if we play to a packed house. This would also be an excellent venue for Müle Shöe to perform.

It was about 4:00 in the morning by the time we had the PA equipment unloaded into the studio back home. RH and I exchanged phone numbers as we enjoyed each other's company and musicianship. I think it is very likely that we will do business again in the future.

I was a very tired man by the time I got into my house at 4:30 in the morning. I treated myself to a nightcap, as I did not have one alcoholic beverage the entire evening. Three days later, I am still recovering from the antics of Saturday night, even though the experience was well worth the lack of sleep.

Booked Solid

The next two weeks of my life are going to busy ones. It is going to be exciting, however at the same time, it's going to be rather stressful, as I have no idea how I am going to get enough sleep.

This week I am going into the recording studio to record an album with one of my associates, SK. I have mentioned him a number of times on this blog, as he has been kind enough to give me a few gigs on the odd occasion. I feel privileged that he asked me to record an album with him. Unfortunately, at this time, I have no idea what we are going to do once I get there. I could end up spending four or more nights in the studio recording drum tracks.

I also have rehearsals with two other bands this week. One of them, is Müle Shöe, whom are writing material for our sophomore album. The other band is the Grease band, from months past, as we have been solicited to do a gig for charity. It sounds like I will have about another dozen songs to learn just for that gig. I am also working with another associate of mine who is putting a recital together for her students. We will be having rehearsals every Saturday afternoon for the next two months to prepare our students for their performances. On top of all this, I have two gigs with SK on the weekends.

After all this, one thing comes to my mind: When the hell am I going to do my tax return?

No Sleep Till Summer

Gigging in Calgary was a blast last week, even though I was running around like a headless chicken. I expected that I was going to get a lot of rest and relaxation, but it turned out that I didn't get much rest.

Much of Thursday was spent shopping with Chris. We hit nearly every music store within the city limits. By the end of the day, my credit card burned to the touch. I swiped that thing so many times, smoke began emanating from my wallet. I ended up buying drumheads, drumsticks (necessities), and a brand new pair of K hi-hats. I saw my dream drumset, and my heart ached, but I knew there was no possible way that I could afford another drumset at this time. The drumset kept whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and then begged me to take it home, but I tried explaining to the drumset that I just didn't have room in my car for the new beauty. I promised the drumset I would return and buy her, but deep down she knew I couldn't hold my promise.

I also saw the Mackie mixers I was describing in an earlier post. I was very tempted to walk out with one, but again the price tag was a little much for me to justify -- and I knew, deep in my heart, that I wanted a pair of K hi-hats most. I also saw an Ayotte-Keplinger snare, that just thirty minutes prior, I told Chris: "If they have an Ayotte-Keplinger snare, I don't care how much it costs, I'm buying one". Once I saw the $1200 price tag, I changed my mind.

I can't remember the last time I spent 3 nights in the bar. In some ways, it was nice to get out of my cocoon. It was also very smoky, and rowdy. My beautiful maple snare drum now smells like an ashtray. The drumset I took up to Calgary almost didn't hold up to the abuse that Müle Shöe deals on a nightly basis. I took my portable PureCussion drumset, but that thing is so flimsy, that you can only hit so hard before you begin damaging the kit. I should have known better, but I have a real hard time fitting my big drumset into my car.

The performances did go well overall. The band is clicking nicely, and they are still kicking my ass to hit harder. We sold a fair number of CD's, t-shirts, and 8X10 posters. We made some good connections which could mean that we will be returning to Calgary sooner than expected. Perhaps we will return during the summer... But I can't say anything about that right now.

I had many late nights, and early mornings. There was also a time change Saturday night, so I lost an hour of sleep. The drive back home was a long one, even though I couldn't wait to get back home to my own bed.

Four days since I returned home, I am still exhausted. I have no idea when things are going to let up, but the next few weeks are going to be packed. I have all kinds of rehearsals (with three different bands), weekend gigs, and even recording sessions in the studio. I may be making some coin here and there, but I know that I won't be getting much sleep.

My Ugly Mug on the Tube

I would like to rewind a few days and talk about my experience on being on television, where a potential viewership of about 1.5 million watched my band perform on The A-Channel's Wired.

Wednesday sure felt incredibly busy. I spent much of the morning packing my stuff and managed to be on the highway by 1:30 in the afternoon. It was around 4:30 before I made it to the outskirts of Calgary -- and it was rush-hour. I found my hotel with little trouble, checked-in, and went through the lengthy process of moving my baggage and equipment into my hotel room. I was not about to leave thousands of dollars worth of equipment in my car. I felt that was just an invitation for a thief to break into my car and steal the tools of my trade.

I ended up eating a hamburger at the Wendy's across the street where people barely spoke English. I ate hastily as I was alone, feeling straying eyes glance at me as I sat alone, staring out the window. Believe it or not, I am really self-conscious about sitting in a restaurant, eating alone. I'd sooner drive my car through a drive-thru and park my car, eating with the doors locked. I feel safer in my car.

I walked back to my hotel room, shaved, showered, and changed my clothes in preparation for my big television debut. Then I mentally prepared myself for a drive that I was dreading -- driving through downtown Calgary.

I get very claustrophobic with high-rise buildings blocking out the sun. Being raised on the prairies where I can see for miles, I feel blind and constrained when I cannot see much further than fifty meters. I can only describe it feeling like a lab rat feels when it is placed in a maze. The roads in downtown Calgary are largely one-way streets, so navigating your way around these high-rises can be troublesome. You often have to doubleback in order to get to your destination.

I managed to find the A-Channel studio, and when I parked my car, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. A few of my bandmates were already there, unloading gear out of their vehicles. I went to buy a parking pass from the electronic vendor, where I was hit up by a junkie, begging for cash. I imagine this is commonplace everywhere else, but in smalltown Alberta, I rarely see events like this. I just wanted to get indoors to safety.

Walking into a television studio is a bit surreal. You begin to see the sets that you normally see every day. They are often a lot smaller than you think they are. The ceilings are strangely absent; instead there countless studio lights pointed in every which direction, many of them covered in colored gels to achieve a certain type of lighting. Electrical cords and cables are everywhere, and you almost feel like a child in a department store, where if you dare touch anything, it will be the end of the world as you know it.

We were escorted through a large room where about a dozen staff were working on computers as well as all sorts of intriguing electronic gizmos, likely preparing for programming that was to occur in the future. Everybody in the room managed to stop their tasks for a few seconds, and say hello to us. It was a kind gesture to us, especially when we didn't even know how welcome we would be.

There was not a lot of time, so once we were in the studio, we hastily began assembling our equipment. There already was a drumset for me to use, so after a careful inspection, I managed to utilize much of the television stations' drumkit. We had our gear assembled in about twenty minutes, we did a quick sound check with one of the stations' technicians, and we were then instructed to wait -- and wait quietly, I might add.

We might have waited only fifteen minutes, but it felt like two hours. The nerves were beginning to affect us all, and Jake, Chris and I did a final last-ditch practice of the songs by humming, air-drumming and plucking at their unplugged guitars. It felt good, but we all knew that we only had one shot at this, and we would have to do our absolute best. Our lead singer Dan, disappeared to a public washroom where he warmed up his vocal chords.

It wasn't long until the host, Jill Bellam, arrived (I think that's what her name was). She was a very kind host, who made us feel a little at ease. She asked us a few questions, and instructed us how the taping would commence, as well as she told us what to expect. Immediately thereafter, we were instructed to plug-in our instruments, take our places, and wait for the dreaded countdown. Once the countdown hits zero, you are on -- and you'd better not take your time.

I saw the cameraman count down from ten until five, and then continue counting down silently with his fingers. Once his hand reached zero, I soiled my shorts and counted the band in the first number.

I don't know where I went for the next four minutes. I was completely focused, listening to the other players. I was praying that everything would go flawlessly, but when you are under such pressure, anything can go wrong. I kept telling myself to not look at the cameras; first of all, because you look like such a dork when you make eyes with the camera, and second, the moment you look into that glass eye -- the one that has the red light glowing, you freeze like a deer in headlights. All I could do to keep myself from vomiting over myself was to go into my own little world, and tell myself that we were not taping.

As soon as the song ended, Jill walked on the stage, thanked us, and commenced the interview. I am quite happy that she did not ask me a question, because I would have looked like such a dork, wiping the drool from my face, and uttering something completely primitive and unintelligible -- kinda like "Buddy-Nugs". Dan and Jake handled the questions, and I think they did a good job. The interview was very short, perhaps under two minutes. What you saw on the show was exactly the way it happened. Nothing was cut, nothing was patched or added.

We were instructed to sit for a few minutes and wait to perform our second number. Once again, the butterflies returned to my stomach, as I would be singing during the second song, and I hadn't learned my harmonies well enough. In addition, the monitors were poor, and the staff didn't have enough time to make things picture-perfect for us.

The countdown commenced, and once again I was counting in the band, praying that I wouldn't embarrass myself, the band, or my family for generations to come, by doing something stupid. Musically, the song went well, but I could hardly hear the other singers, and I did my best to fake my harmonies. I didn't think I did too bad, as they seemed to fit well in the mix.

The song ended without a train-wreck and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief. Jill thanked us for being on the show, as well as we thanked her for having the opportunity to stare at her for about an hour. She left the studio, and the band began packing our gear.

Chris asked me if I would like to join him for a beverage at one of the pubs, were we could drink some of these jitters away. I agreed, and drove across town to a watering-hole where I met a few of his friends. I stayed for a few drinks, but I had to leave, as I could not wait to see myself on a real television station.

Well, I suppose it might have been better if I did not tune-in at all. I sure felt like I looked like a dork. The shots of me looked like I just got back in from smoking a dozen joints. Boy, did I look lit. The music sounded pretty decent for television, but I sure cringed when I heard the vocals. Oh, was it torture. It was off-key, shrill, and sounded worse than a thousand drunken bagpipers on St. Patrick's Day. After our "performance", I turned off the television, and began convincing myself that nobody was going to watch that show anyway.

Boy, was I wrong. The next day, Chris and I went shopping in Calgary. Everywhere we went, we were approached by strangers saying: "Hey! You were on Wired last night!" We were celebrities -- something I did not want to become again. Well, at least we didn't have legions of screaming fans stalking us, but at least we were treated well by those who did recognize us. I suppose it was a nice boost to the ego, and in the end, I am glad to have had the experience.

Next time, I might opt out of singing. Musicians always talk about the "truth on tape". I suppose this day and age, there is truth in ones and zeros. The tape never lies; the tape is merciless. I could never stand the sound of my own voice -- even if I was singing well.