Hey, it's not nice to point!
Do you like my UFOs?
Music reviews, editorials, gear reviews for the guitarist/bass player, journal entries, advice, funny crazy stuff and more. Updated roughly 2-3 times a week.
|
iTunes I'm Diggin On Today:My Links:My Friends:Recent Issues:
|
Tuesday, August 30, 2005Platforms (and how they hurt my feet) My first article in a series of monthly columns to the Christian musician/songwriter.
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 10:52 AM
| 1 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Monday, August 29, 2005iPod in my Car This is an ameteur review of how I got riding with my iPod to wrok for me (since I could find nothing like it on the Internet and had to figure it out myself). It can be challenging at times I must admit and takes some researching and 'trial & error' not to mention dealing with friends' comments on how the quality or the music sucks while you're figuring it out (thus deflating the experience a little). So I thought I'd come up with a short essay (almost like a FAQ) on how it's working for me since I'm fairly pleased with the solution I have currently. Operating Environment: I live in/around the Portland, OR area. The Portland area has very few spots on the FM band that aren't taken up with radio stations, so if you live here too, keep reading as I have some info that's specific to the area that might be helpful. I have a 20GB that I've owned for roughly 3 months, and like most iPod owners I know, I don't know how I ever got along without it. In those three months, I can count on one hand the number of times I've messed with CD's or the radio. I have a hard leather bound protective belt clip case that I sometimes use, but typically not in the car anymore since I bought the iGrip (a rubber pad that adheres to your dash and keeps your iPod from sliding). I couldn't believe how well it worked. Sharp turns, quick stops, acceleration, the iGrip saves me from ANY slippage. I use the Griffen iTrip to transmit my iPod signal over an FM frequency. I have two car stereos I utilize, an older one from the 90's in my pickup and a new one from early 2000's in SUV. I primarily listen in the car on weekdays between 6am and 5pm. I've also used my iPod/iTrip on half a dozen company cars ranging in stereo quality, but mostly newer stock Chevy and Ford stereos. Let me just start off by stating that, at least MY FM transmitter, works better some days than it does others. I can be in an area on Monday and get great reception, and be in that same area same time on Tuesday and have it be poorer. I believe this is a reflection of what's in the airwaves on different days, moreso than the quality of transmitter. Weekends in particular the reception seems to be a little worse than weekdays. I've heard very good things about the Belkin and it may be better according to Dan, who owns the same model iPod. Belkin owners have at least one advantage in that it's a lot easier to change stations. I hate changing stations on the Griffen iTrip, in fact it's not even safe to do while driving I should really pull over. So finding a solid spot on the dial that works pretty much everywhere was imperative. It performs differently in different cars too. It works a little better on the car with the newer stereo than the old one. Whether that's because the receiver is weeker in the older one I don't know for sure. For all of you in the Portland area that are still looking for a solid FM frequency to transmit on I've found that 88.5 works pretty darn well. I wouldn't have thought 88.5 would've worked so well. Other frequencies seem to have less chatter and less white noise. I've tried many of them but have never had as consistantly good luck as I have with 88.5. Just goes to show that you can't judge the conduciveness to iPod transmission by the way the station sounds on its own. There must be some other variables I'm not aware of that make it better or worse for this kind of usage. I spend most of my time in Vancouver and 88.5 works all over Vancouver. It seems the further North you go the better it gets. As you head South into Portland it starts to break up as you cross the I-5 bridge. It gets a little worse as you go through Delta Park, but cleans up around the Portland Blvd overpass. It usually gets bad again right around the time you get to the Rose Garden or shortly after. By the time I cross the Willamette it's noticeably poorer. Practically unintelligible. Till I get through the Terwilliger curves and then it starts getting better. By the time you get to the 217 North exit it's not so bad. Poor on 405, but decent on 26-W/217-S. As you head South on I-5 it gets clearer and clearer from the curves. If you travel in to Tualatin, Sherwood, Newberg, 88.5 goes like a champ. From Vancouver, if you head North, you can camp on 88.5 all the way to Olylmpia. It breaks up for 10-20 miles around Chehalis due to a Jazz station, but clears once you're far enough North or South of it. I've noticed during those times when reception is breaking up, that I OFTEN can fix the problem just by placing a hand on the iPod. This has worked in no less than half a dozen cars so I'm fairly certain it works globally. I don't know why exactly. It's weird. Like it strengthens the reception to the receiver in your car stereo or something? Maybe something to do with grounding? And what's more, even those times when it's REALLY bad, I can hold it right next to the stereo and it will overpower whatever other signal may be coming through. This is how I get through Chehalis when I road trip to Seattle or driving over the Willamette/through the Terwilliger curves too. Sometimes just attaching my Griffen car charger also helps with the reception in certain areas. I-84 from I-5 to 205 seems to be decent on 88.5. 205 North maintains this "pretty good" quality until you get North of Mill Plain. Somewhere between Mill Plain and SR500 it became crystal clear. No staticky "S" or "F" sounds or staticy distorted guitar tones at all. As I traveled on I-5 South I had perfect reception on 88.5 all the way to Eugene. It started breaking up about there. Luckily that's where I had to get on 126W anyway. And that stretch, being in the middle of nowhere, was perfection as well all the way to Florence. It started to break up right about the time I hopped on 101 South. After just a few miles on 101 and my signal was great again. It degraded a little bit around Gardiner, which can't be more than 100 people. I'm thinking there was some other small transmitter other than a radio station that was interfering. I got some slight break-up around Reedsport, but nothing that made me look for another frequency. It was great until I got to North Bend. Then a radio station broke clear through on 88.5. Luckily exactly that's where I had to be for work anyway so I shut it off just as I was pulling in to the parking lot. Taking 38 East to I-5 from 101 proves to be a pleasant scenic drive with uninterrupted iPod service on the 88.5 spot on the dial as well. All the way North on I-5 until Eugene again it's great. I'd still love to get myself one of those direct attachment installation units for my iPod and my stereo. But I have a hard time coughing up that much money for a car I may or may not own in a year or two. We'll see though. For now, I'm happy with my iTrip FM Transmitter. My transmissions seem to work best if the iPod volume is set between 50% and 75% and not over. The signal must become too hot after that and literally kind of overdrive the stereo (?). Anyway, just an observation. My car stereo had to be turned up a little louder than I normally play it to compensate, but it doesn't effect the quality. Too much bass in a particular file may effect this too for some reason. That about covers it! Best of luck to all you pod people. May your shuffles be absent of two star songs and heavy on the Switchfoot.
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 10:51 AM
| 6 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Tuesday, August 02, 2005iPod Rave For a long time I was a Macaphobic personality. I hated anything that came from Apple with a prejudice that I can’t really explain because looking back it only makes a modicum of sense to me now. I transitioned from hating Macs out of fear of the unknown to hating them out of spite. Around 1997 I started having to support them in, you guessed it, an education environment. The typical Mac I had support was what IT people call of the 68k variety. I can’t for the life of me even remember why they called it that but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the model of Motorola processor at the time. The Power Mac was introduced around that time and we had some of those around which were much nicer hardware-wise but I still pretty much hated the Mac OS interface all the way through OS 8 or so. Version 9 was much better and I hear version X is pretty nice. I started coming around and thinking more of Macs around OS 9, though I preferred Windows and Wintel hardware and frankly still do, but I no longer have this unjustifiable loathing for everything Apple. In fact, I’ve recently fallen head over heals for an Apple product. God save the iPod! I love this device with the same unjustifiable passion that I despised early Macs. I’ve got a playlist for nearly any mood I happen to be in. And iTunes! Holy cow, what a great program. It rips, it plays, has visualization plug-ins, legalized downloading, iMix sharing, you name it. It does it all. And it does it all BETTER than the individual programs I used to use to do those tasks. I’ll be posting some links to some cool iMixes soon. My goal is to have one for every mood I’m in and every task I have to perform, particularly at work. Coming soon is a “Filling Out the Timesheet” playlist. Followed by a “Stuck in the Elevator” and “Root Cause Analysis” playlists. Eventually I’ll get around to a “DMV Line” and a soothing “1040A”. But let’s get some audience participation going here. What are some good premises for creating Playlists?
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 12:31 PM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Monday, August 01, 2005Essay: Poverty on Parade (part 3) Part 3 – How I Got From Point B to Point A to Point C (Opportunity) Before the World Trade Center happenings on 9/11, the average IT job in the Pacific Northwest paid really well. Shortly after it the economy started to decline and finding one at all was horrendously hard, and the average salaries slowly started to come down. While Dan to this day is still working at the same company he’s worked at since he was 17, I changed jobs every year. I went from the education service district job with Dan to a local credit union, and then to a hospital. I was there about a year when what I thought was my dream job finally came through for me. The local branch of the US Department of Energy called me to tell me I had been selected, after more than 6 months of deliberation, for the job I thought I always wanted. I was moving up. I was specializing. It takes either very large companies or large government entities to hire specialists that perform a very limited set of skills but perform them extremely professionally and pay them what they claim they are worth too. I was going to take some training, but still they saw potential in my youth and what experience and education I did have. There’s another whole book here, but suffice it to say, I was making more money than any 22 year old should be allowed to make. And with the increase of income, came an increase of debt and expenses. I don’t know why I couldn’t just put the rest away in savings…but we didn’t and it’s one of the largest regrets I have to this day. Some time in the summer of 2003 Charity and I got home from our weekly evening Bible study group, arriving home to our answering machine blinking and resounding a repetitive and obnoxious monotone beep. Someone had called and had left a message. Most of the time it was either my family or Charity’s with the occasional sales person or recorded message notifying us we’d been selected for something or had already won a free flight to Reno or Las Vegas, at which time we’d have to sit through conference about the product they were ultimate trying to sell to us or get us to sell for them. Pre-recorded messages like that left on a machine always start taping 30 seconds after the recording actually starts and almost always end before they can give the entire phone number; not that I was ever tempted to call it anyway. Needless to say we’d had a steady enough stream of those calls that any enthusiasm I might have previously had about checking my messages was long gone. I retired to the home office and proceeded to start a game of Minesweeper or Solitaire while Charity reluctantly began the business of seeing which merchant now wanted our attention. A few minutes later she entered the room where I was losing my digital card game and told me some guy had called for me about playing in a band. Well, it’s not every day you hear something like that. Charity’s tone was reluctant. I strolled into the kitchen to play back the message. “Hi, my name’s Bill Robinson” the scratchy recording seemed to say. Bill Robinson? As in, “Danger Bill Robinson, danger?” I chuckled to myself. Bill went on to state through the message that he was a member of a band that was presently looking for an “electric guitar player” and had somehow heard that I played and was interested in meeting with me if being part of a band at this time in my life was something I’d be willing to consider. I thought the phrasing of “an electric guitar player” to be odd, and to this day, I still do. I’d heard phrases like “rhythm guitar,” “lead guitar,” even “jellyfish guitar” or “nuance guitar” but never heard someone specify the use of an electric without mentioning the kind of playing that would be required of me. Well my curiosity was certainly sparked. The childhood dream of being part of a successful band had never really departed from me since that warm July night, and somewhere in the depths of my subconscious or unconscious brain I still convinced myself that God had something to that effect for me though I was doing nothing proactively to seek it out beyond the occasional flailing insecure prayer like a shotgun sends bits and pieces of led in a spattering pattern; more or less like a “hail marry” pass from a quarterback to an end zone rather than to a receiver. I must’ve somehow felt the opportunity would find me. I hadn’t played in a band for a couple of years now and probably never one so organized and focused on success on an occupational level. I was almost exclusively a bass player at this point anyway. I had my doubts about it, but the next day I called him anyway. We talked briefly and the information exchange was not very in-depth. It was suggested we should meet in person. Will Robertson, as I came to learn his actual name was, showed up at a small coffee shop attached to a Christian bookstore a couple miles from my house a few minutes late. His wife was with him, roughly 7 months pregnant at the time. We sat at a small table just big enough for a couple of coffee drinks. I sipped a grande-iced-mocha-light-ice-no-foam and he partook of an ice-tea-unsweetened-no-lemon. The usual pleasantries were exchanged briefly before we got down to business. I came with a piece of paper with a dozen or so questions scratched on it and he came with a manila folder. The name of the band that he sang lead vocal and played acoustic guitar for was “Savant”. Savant was a 6 piece folk/pop band. Summer Schar played acoustic guitar as well and sang both background vocals and lead vocals on a few songs that she wrote. Mark Daley played keyboard and sang a song or two as well. Alan Tangenal played drums and John Delmark, who was not a member but a contractor, played bass. The names meant nothing to me beyond general information’s sake, but finding out they were a 6-piece Christian folk/pop band was a detail that I found intriguing. The folk/pop groups I knew of were between 1 to 3 pieces at most and never had a dedicated electric guitar player. We chatted and I discovered the mission and ministry of the group was in fact Christ-centered and this sounded like something I was ready to take the first step with to find out more at the very least. Will gave me a couple of CD’s some sheets with words and chords on them. We prayed briefly at my request, as I was accustomed to doing at the beginning or end of a meeting of this nature engrained from my years of church attendance and functions.
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 4:50 PM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Essay: Poverty on Parade (part 2)
Part 2 – The Tools of the Trade (Means)
So you remember those three elements right? Well, it’s fair enough to cover the “means” now, for which I’m required to fill you in on a little background about me and how I came to be a musician. I’ll try to accomplish this without getting into too much “shop talk”. When I got home from Jesus Northwest ’92 I became obsessed with Christian music. I went through a phase that I would in the future see many after me go through as they transitioned into the obsession. And make no mistake, it can become an obsession. The discovery that one can listen to music of a style and genre they enjoy and at the same time not offend their senses or those they associate with, triggers a pocketbook reaction that can cost thousands of dollars of the individual’s money to be paid to the “Christian” record labels and retail stores. I call this phenomenon “converting one’s CD collection.” I once knew a man, a father of one of the kids I grew up with, whose CD collection increased by over 400 in the course of a single month. Converting one’s CD collection often involves burning or otherwise destroying much, if not all, of the secular CD’s you happen to own. Now this was ’92 and ’93 so remember, downloading songs was not an option. You either had to buy the tape/CD or try catching it on the radio and recording it on a tape deck. “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” It seems odd, but the first memory I can recall having is hearing that song by Tina Turner. I must have been about 3. I don’t really know why this is my first memory that I can still recall (and actually understand), but it’s only fitting that it has to do with music. Lord knows my dad would never allow such “crap” in his house, as he would call it. I was born in Jacksonville, FL on September 28, 1979 in Orange County Hospital just a few minutes before September 29th. My dad was in the Navy at the time and my mom had just been medically discharged due to foot problems that she still has to this day. Because I was a military brat, we moved around a lot from Naval base to Naval base. I have lived in Jacksonville, FL; Norfolk, VA; MD; Long Island, NY; San Antonio & Corpus Christi, TX; Louisville, KY; New Orleans, LA; Vancouver, WA and came very close to living in Anchorage, AK and Buffalo, NY. My dad later transferred to the Coast Guard when his term with the Navy was up. My love life consists of inconsistencies. When I was 6 years old my best friend in Gretna, Louisiana was Nicole. We called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but really had no clue. As I was helping load the car to prepare for the big move West to Texas, I devised this grand scheme where she could hop in the trunk at the last possible moment and come with us to Texas. “Then my parents can adopt you and we’ll get married later.” When the last possible moment came, she chickened out. When I was nine I thought I was in love for the first time with Michelle, a curly haired girl in my second grade class. She even dedicated a song to me “Let’s Hear it For the Boy” by Denise Williams which was released on the Footloose soundtrack. I used to listen to that tape with her for hours in her bedroom. I later came to realize just what the lyrics to that song had to say about this “guy” Denise was writing about and Michelle was singing about (apparently his name was Rusty). Take a look: My baby he don’t talk sweet/He ain't got much to say/But he loves me, loves me, loves me/I know that he loves me anyway/And maybe he don’t dress fine/But I don’t really mind/Because every time he pulls me near/I just want to cheer/Let’s hear it for the boy/Let’s give the boy a hand/Let’s hear it for my baby/You know you go to understand/Whoa, maybe he's no Romeo/But he's my lovin one-man show/Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa/Let's hear it for the boy/Rusty, Ariel, Irene & Doreen/My baby may not be rich/He's watchin every dime/But he loves me loves me loves/We always have a real good time/And maybe he sings off key/But that’s alright by me/Because what he does he does so well/Makes me wanna yell/Let’s hear it for the boy/Let’s give the boy a hand/Let’s hear it for my baby/You know you go to understand/Maybe he’s no Romeo/But he’s my lovin one man show/Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa/Lets hear it for the boy/Maybe he’s no Casanova Still his kisses knock me ov-ah/Let’s hear it for the boy/Let’s give the boy a hand/Let’s hear it for my baby/You know you gotta understand/Oh, he don’t score at bowl-a-rama/Still you gotta thank his mama/Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa/Let’s hear it for the boy/Hear it for my man/Let's hear it for my baby So apparently I don’t talk sweet, don’t have much to say, am a poor dresser, no Romeo, no Cassanova, I sing off key, I’m far from rich, but I love her a lot. Oh yeah Denise/Michelle? Well….”bowl-a-rama” isn’t a real word!….and….and you start sentences with prepositions too!....crap. I kissed her behind a palm tree one day (Michelle not Denise Williams). Just a peck on the lips. It was my first and I would come to find it was my last for five whole years until I met my wife in junior high. We were as serious as 2nd graders get for awhile, until she found a cuter, taller guy in the 3rd grade, who dedicated a song to her. I understand it was a Huey Lewis and the News song, which seems fitting. In 4th grade my infatuation was with Jennifer White, Michelle’s best friend who was home schooled. I think I was pretty much the only boy she knew. I asked her to be my girlfriend, she said yes, and then I don’t think we really ever spoke to each other after that. 6th grade, after we moved to the Northwest, it was Tiffany. I never got her last name. That lasted about a week and was primarily conducted over the phone. Hang on, I’m almost done, there is a point here. When I was in 7th grade, 13 years old, I met my future wife. Sometime in December of 1992, one of my friends at church, Stephan, a Canadian living most of the year with his divorced mom in Vancouver, started officially dating Charity, an adorable brunette with beautiful green eyes and “striking features” as uncle Rico would say. That “relationship” if you can call it that, lasted a total of six months. The last half of which, Stephan was completely incommunicable. See some time between December of 92 and July of 93 he and a couple of the more rambunctious kids (*cough, cough* - me - *cough*) trashed the youth room in good fun. Streamed toilet paper, performed some Sharpie graffiti, etc. Stephan did a couple more destructive things and one of the elders in the church kind of threw a fit about it. His mom was totally embarrassed and they switched churches. Shortly after, I’m told, he went to live with his dad in Canada who lacked all sense of disciplining when it came to his son. I later found out he got into a lot of trouble in high school and completely lost track of him after that. But back in December, I played matchmaker between Stephan and Charity, even though I liked her very much, I knew they both liked each other, so against my better judgment I helped the two introverts get together. However, in July of 1993, at the now famous Jesus Northwest festival, Charity and I admitted to each other just how much we liked one another via a round of “Truth or Dare”. Her biological father died when she was 5 years old and, as I soon came to find out, she was now a missionary’s daughter. So after we had been dating for about 9 months she moved to Budapest, Hungary and was there for 5+ years. It was just about the most agonizing point in my life when she left. Dan gave me chickenpox which conveniently onset the day before she left so I did not get to say goodbye at the airport. Instead I stayed home scratching bursting pustules and tonguing the back of my throat wishing I were dead. For weeks I played Michael W. Smith’s “Somebody Love Me” on repeat, crying into my pillow. After the first 18 months, she came back to the states roughly once every year. Sometimes only for a couple weeks, sometimes for months at a shot. We e-mailed daily and phoned monthly so we kept in touch pretty well. She came back for good May of 1998 and I am glad she did. Many people react quite surprised when I explain we’d been dating for years since we were 13 and 14 years old and that it had been a long-distance relationship for most of the 5 years. When she first left for Budapest, I needed something to fill this enormous void in my life. Jay, the in-house “Weird Al” guy I was telling you about, was about thirty years old, married and had I believe only one kid at the time he found out I was desperate to learn the guitar. One Sunday he presented me with an old acoustic with terrible action, 5 strings and a flower pattern pick guard. “If you can learn on this guitar, later you’ll be able to play ANY guitar,” he bragged of the oddities. Over the course of the few months or so he’d give me lessons twice a month on how to form basic chords and play along with some worship tunes. He even showed me the basics on deciphering songs off CD’s or the radio. Yes, CD’s were transitioning in at this point. I spent all my time, energy and efforts on learning how to play and spent all my money on new and better equipment. I now have quite an array of guitars and guitar-related toys. It has become the ultimate form of expression for me. I was the first of my friends to start playing an instrument that could be used in youth worship teams and garage bands alike. Others followed closely behind me. Kevin L. was an extremely skinny, acne-covered boy my age. He had a voice that cracked very loudly most of the way through high school. The voice cracking pitch differential was so extreme that I used to think he was choking when it happened. His dad was the one whose CD collection sprouted from 10 to 400 overnight. Kevin took up the bass and his brother Chris got in to racecar driving. Their mother had been slowly dying at home for years from cancer I believe. I think music is what Kevin and his dad both used to cope with the process. Kevin’s dad once put on a “Music Night”. He invited all the youth from the church to come over to his house and listen to his CD collection. The wall of music was literally an entire wall in his living room covered in Christian Contemporary music. He averaged 5 or 6 new CD’s a week. No one was allowed to touch the CD’s or the stereo. We had to ask him to put on discs for us. He had one old computer set up that would only play Pong and a couple different varieties of Lay’s potato chips. We all pretended not to see the woman in the wheel chair in the back corner of the room with 17 different machines attached to her and the breathing tubes cutting across the carpet. Kevin took up the bass about the time that my dad did in what must’ve been late 1993 or early 1994. He never had any sense of timing and was always content to just play the roots. He didn’t appreciate anyone suggesting to him he might try to play something more than that. To say Kevin was clumsy would be the understatement of the decade. I once watched Kevin get stuck in his own coat one winter. My three year old does that occasionally and it’s cute. With Kevin, it was just sad. At water ski camp Kevin nearly drowned in two and a half feet of water when seaweed wrapped around the big tow on his left foot. He’s the only person I’ve actually witnessed hang his head out the back window of car at highway speeds and swallow a wasp. Derek H. must have arrived at our youth group around late ‘93/early ’94. If Kevin existed in a completely opposite parallel universe, he would have been Derek. One of the regulars first brought his brother Dean Hiebert, who was a classically trained piano player and who to this day is pretty still amazing. Derek played a crappy Wal-Mart brand black strat copy electric guitar through a $45 Gorilla amplifier. He used to play these really high notes heavily distorted that I liked to compare to the torturous experiments of felines. Derek was eye candy for every girl in our youth group when he joined. Before him, I held that position, and while I had a steady girlfriend, I didn’t appreciate him squatting on my turf. He was tall and tan and handsome. He talked like a surfer from San Diego and had a cool job (comparatively) at the local pizzeria. I switched to electric guitar for youth group worship a week or two before Derek showed up with his. Derek was two years my senior and while I thought myself the better guitar player, he knew a couple of songs on the local secular alternative rock radio station (“Say it Ain’t So” by Weezer and “Big Me” by Foo Fighters”). He played them at get-togethers and all the girls sang along like some kind of really sappy deodorant commercial or something. And I’d have the distinct privilege of listening to their comments as he rode away on his skateboard. Derek eventually signed up in the Army reserves, and when he got back from boot camp, went to Bible School. He met a young woman that was the nurse at a youth camp he was counseling. They got married and he became the youth pastor at our church eventually. They have one kid, a daughter, named Gretchen. He’s changed a lot since the Gorilla days. Literally pulled a 180 on us. Back in high school he had an orange Camaro that we used to all pile in to and blast the stereo and terrorize around town in. It’s because of Derek I was ever turned on to ska and punk music, for which I owe him (take that any way you want). It wasn’t so much that Dan knew how to play keyboards, as he had a keyboard. An Alesis Quadrasynth (I remember it like it was yesterday). MIDI capable even. Before then he dabbled on Casio and Yamaha $100 toy keyboards. When I got my first electric guitar for Christmas of 1993 he came over Christmas night and brought his keyboard. My new guitar was a Peavey Predator. A red strat copy that my parents bought for me. For $300 they got the guitar, a Peavey Audition 110 amplifier, a strap, two packs of strings, a gig bag, a pack of picks, and three free lessons from the local guitar wizard. We went up into my attic-converted-bedroom of downtown ghetto Vancouver and played the only song we could play together (“Spirit Thing” by the Newsboys) for about 3 and a half hours. We imagined we would start a band like Petra someday. We named our band, titled our first 7 albums, even drew out a stage plot of where we would stand and how we would look with the huge lights of Jesus Northwest shining down on us. It took less than a year from the time Jay had given me that first guitar for him to help us start our first band. “Jonah and the Wailers” we called ourselves. Get it? Wail-ers? Wailing on the guitar? Get it? Anyway, Jay played guitar in the group and sang. Kevin on bass, Derek and I on guitar, a friend of Jay’s named Bob who was in his 50’s at the time and had a hunchback (but is to this day still an amazing drummer), and I convinced them to take in Dan as a keyboard player. That’s when he bought the Quadrasynth. We practiced for a couple of months once a week and then performed at a church talent show. Along the course of those couple of months I won (yes I won) a guitar in an online contest put on by Gibson and Compuserve. Not just any guitar. A Gibson Centenniel Les Paul worth about $10,000. Solid gold hardware, diamond inlays speckling the guitar throughout, solid mahogany body, and dual P-90 pickups tuned to perfection. I brought it to the talent show for our first ever performance. I also used my paper delivering money to buy a new amplifier: a Peavey 50 Classic 410 combo just like Jay’s (which I still use to this day). After we got everything set up, all the guitars and amps put on stage and drums and mic stands and everything, it was so beautiful it almost made me cry so I took a bunch of pictures. We played a cover of Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky”, and Dakota Motor Company’s “Trip to Pain.” We also had two originals that Dan and I wrote together and I think we rearranged a worship tune too. Sometime during the “show” Kevin got so into….into whatever it was he was doing over there…that he bashed the headstock of his bass against the floor and the whole neck came flying off the bass like those wild untamed monkeys on the discover channel fly from tree to tree screaming at the top of their lungs and flinging their own poo. It made the most horrendous sound any of us had ever heard. I remember thinking Armageddon was coming when it happened. Luckily it was toward the end of the song so people just assumed it was like a late Beatles kind of an ending or something till they noticed half of Kevin’s bass was hanging on to the other half around his neck only by the four thick metal strings and the look on Kevin’s face said he did not do it on purpose ala Pete Townsend. He stepped up to a microphone and asked, over the PA, if he could borrow my dad’s bass, to which my dad adamantly declined. That was the most awkward silence I’ve ever experienced. He muttered something about it being a cold day in Hades under his breath. I actually played bass for the one remaining song anyway, because it was too hard for Kevin, who we put on tambourine duty, so I used my dad’s bass to play it. Shortly after Kevin’s mom finally passed. Kevin’s dad remarried a month later and moved him and the boys out to Oregon City where they found a different church. He called me once, years later, from Japan about a year after I was married. I understand he was actually kicked out of the Army and Marines before he finally made it through a Navy boot camp. He seemed to be enjoying the lifestyle and, at 21, his voiced still cracked when he talked. Jonah and the Wailers pretty much broke up after that show. Never practiced again, never did another show. Dan and I still wrote songs. He did most of the lyrics while I wrote most of the music. Once we had about 6 or 7 finished tunes we went to Kevin K., the local computer/music guru. Kevin had produced, engineered, mixed, mastered and provided the instrumentation for a complete album that he cut to CD himself. He performed live once at our church. His keyboard rack provided all the background instrumentation. Drums, keys, bass, synth sounds, etc. And he played a guitar with, what I would later come to realize the guitar enthusiast community referred to as “ice pick” distortion. Dan and I only wanted to make a demo of the music we had so we could hear it on tape and it was clear that Kevin K. was the guy to help us. The only problem was that neither one of us could really sing. We recorded a couple of tunes with him regardless and I think I wound up singing at least one of them. He later worked with a guy named Bart out in Scapoose, OR that had a professional studio and Dan and I came to observe the process. That was my first and last taste of the recording studio for a very long time. The next three years, till I was about a junior in high school, I’ve come to refer to as “The Garage Era” of my life. Sometime in ’95 or early ‘96, a guy who had been a friend of mine for several years named Adam started talking about taking up the drums. A couple guys before him had made this claim as well and had not followed through so I was skeptical at best when he first mentioned it, given the cost associated with taking up such a spendy and space-consuming instrument. Adam was two years younger than me and had/has what I like to call an addictive personality. See, when Adam finds something new that he enjoys, he throws himself into it. Snowboarding, golf, crossword puzzles, poker, drums…you name it. The guy becomes engulfed. But, to his credit, he’s also one of these characters that just oozes cool out of every pore in his body. Most of us can do something incredibly stupid, and people will gauk and call us stupid. As they should. But with Adam, something is only stupid until he’s seen doing it. Then it becomes a trend. The guy can’t do anything wrong for some reason. In junior high he gave himself a reverse Mohawk (fairly long hair except for a thick shaved strip up the center) and everybody loved it. In high school he walked around in shoes completely covered in orange duct tape. And the closer you get to knowing him, the more you become aware that the guy speaks primarily utilizing inside jokes. He hops from one to another, and then eventually starts chaining them together until he’s babbling seemingly incoherent sentences that make absolutely no sense to an outsider looking in. Should you happen to be around as the inside jokes develop and can deconstruct the pattern to make some sort of sense though, you’ll be laughing in stitches for hours and even find yourself communicating in this retarded sort of pig latin. Anyway, it didn’t take long for Adam to get good enough at the drums before we started playing together. Sometimes under the official-ness of a “band”, often times just the two of us playing whatever came to mind at the time (a.k.a. “jamming”). Derek and Kevin L. and Dan were often part of these off-the-cuff bands and jam sessions, though Dan didn’t really play anything, it wasn’t for lack of trying. First keys, then guitar, and eventually he even quit the bass. He did write a lot and have lots of great ideas for image, special effects, arrangements, etc. Dan eventually got involved with video production heavily and Kevin of course moved away, which pretty much forced me to become a decent bass player, which Kevin had already motivated to do anyway. I used my dad’s gear often at these get-togethers. We were just teenagers making noise and having fun. It was during this time we probably attended a concert or two every month, both independent and signed bands ranging in venues from underground clubs in the ghettos to the Rose Garden (where the Blazers play). Lots of pizza, video rentals, lots of overnighters, video games, dreaming of the future of “our band”, impromptu wrestling matches, and late night talking of girls, sex, the scary abyss of the future and the ever-looming question that everyone over 30 always wants to know the answer to…what would we do with our lives? A question some of us are still asking ourselves and the “adults” have stopped trying to get an answer for. Towards the end of the Garage Era, as I transitioned from sophomore to junior in high school, Dan and I got involved in an organization called Pro Youth. See, there was a man who led worship at our church named Mike C.. Custer was a guitar playing genius that had both the head knowledge and the feel. You could argue that Jay’s “feel” for the instrument was stronger, more intuitive and fluid, but Mike just had a way of leading worship. He knew how to bring out the emotion in every song. And Mike Custer played a very large role for Pro Youth. He was the worship leader. Anywhere Pro Youth went, they had a worship band and an enormous PA system because they inevitably would always have thousands of kids at any event. And Mike had the distinction of being “The Pro Youth Worship Leader”. It’s hard to convey in words just how impacting that was to our youth group, and the church-attending kids in the entire Portland metro area. But suffice it to say, he was like a local celebrity. Anywhere he went kids spotted him and recognized him. He had/has a voice that’s as smooth and creamy as butter and a way with the guitar that seduced the senses. He can talk for hours on any subject and speak like an expert. And this relatively short Italian with a mustache ala Mario & Luigi could shred on the guitar given the opportunity. Every time Pro Youth had an event, he was tasked with organizing the entire worship structure, forming the band, picking the songs, arranging them, establishing practices, etc. And sometime between my sophomore and junior years, I too became a permanent fixture with Mike C. The drummers, keyboardists, horn players, BGV’s, and additional guitarists would all change from event to event. But I became Mike’s favorite bass player and a staple on the worship team. He stretched me to the degree I was actually pretty good by the end there. Some events were 4 or 5 days long in locations as luxurious as fancy hotels and walking around throughout the week was a bit like being royalty. Make no mistake, I worked my fingers to the bone for Pro Youth pulling cable, stage setup, spotlight and camera operation, soundboard stuff and inevitably I was always there for load-in and load-out, lifting the monstrously heavy and very expensive equipment in ways that would probably give me hernias today (as was Dan, who got roped in to being the video production guy there for awhile). But when I was there on stage playing for the built-in crowds, I was often flooded by kids (mostly guys – bass players) that wanted to know how they could get their time on stage or how I played a certain riff or whatever. It’s quite possible, especially at the larger events, that the attention went to my head. And while pride was probably a concern, ego never was. My self-esteem was far too low for other reasons. Once Derek joined the Army, Dan and I got respectable jobs working in the IT industry and many of the other friends we had moved away, went to college, or got involved with people and things that drug them away from the church scene. When I graduated from high school in 1998 I remember thinking I was very much alone at that time. Dan had started going to another church for his own reasons and Adam was hanging out with friends his own age still in high school. Luckily Charity moved back permanently from Budapest just in time to attend my graduation. I proposed to her a couple weeks after graduation and we were married in July of 1999. Shortly after, Pro Youth almost completely disbanded. Mike and I left and most everyone else I knew in the organization left when its founder left the parent company to strike out on their own doing a completely different type of ministry. During the early years of my marital engagement to Charity, Mike C. got together with another guy named Mike Honholz and several other people that called Harvest Community Church of Camas, WA home. Camas is a small town 20 miles East of Vancouver. This was by far the largest group I’d ever been involved with. There was a lead singer who played acoustic guitar, a lead guitar player who played a really nice Les Paul through a Marshall half stack and used a $700 effects processor, Mike C. who played a rhythm/lead jellyfish kind of role on an acoustic/electric guitar and sang backup and lead, a piano/keyboard player, a male BGV, three female BGV’s, a sax player, a drummer/percussionist and me on bass. That’s 11 pieces if you can believe that and on top of that, it was some of the hardest music I’ve ever had to play. We took Vineyard and Maranatha recordings and made them even harder, rearranging, re-writing and harmonizing in ways that astounded me. Things were going really well until one day the male BGV singer who was mid-twenties came in to practice and told us that God had spoken to him. Yes, like audibly. He told us God said to him that this group was going to go amazing places and do amazing things and we’d all be singing and playing on enormous stages for thousands of people and then proceeded to tell us how exactly we could accomplish this. It didn’t even take a week before Mike and I left the group after that. The goal had been to put on a show for a local prison and after Mike and I left the whole group fell apart. Well Mike, not wanting the ministry to suffer, got the drummer and sax player together and we kept practicing and did that show just the four of us. Larch Mountain Correctional Facility was an amazing show where we got to share the gospel and had a great response. I believe the Lord was pleased with the results and I’m grateful to have been a part of that endeavor. In 2000 and 2001 Mike C. and I got together to do some private stuff. Kind of rolling with the momentum from the Larch Mountain show. I was still exclusively playing bass, so had purchased my own gear by this time. A gig here, a show there. Doing a combination of covers, worship, and originals for various audiences. About half of those times we used Adam Armstrong on drums, who was going through a weird phase with a girl at the time, and the other half of those times we used a guy named George. While I was now 20 years old, George couldn’t have been more than 28. George was and probably still is the best technical drummer I’ve ever played with, though I’ve always preferred playing with Adam just because I’m more “in tune” with him. It’s a hard concept to explain. Anyway, George had done something I never thought was possible. Towards the latter half of the shows with Mike C., George had told me that he took a whole year off from working, took out an enormous loan, bought a bunch of recording equipment, wrote ten or eleven songs, produced them and tracked a demo. It was harder stuff. Edgier rock to be sure. Mike started slowing down a little bit with the shows since Harvest Community had asked him to become part-time paid staff as their worship leader so he was looking for a break when George brought this up. He asked me to play bass for him and I said I would because I enjoyed the music from the demo. He said there was a club in Estacada, a farming community with a small downtown of sorts about an hour from Vancouver. He knew the owner/promoter personally and they had bands there all the time. It was a Christian Youth club with an “under 19” requirement. The guy who ran it said George could come and play his material any time. So I rounded up Adam to play drums and the three of us played for about 6 months while I also attended night school 3 nights a week and Charity gracefully sauntered through her first and second trimester alone for the most part. The only shows we ever had were at this youth club, and we probably only played there 4 times or so. Still it was fun. And I got to play with Adam again which I always enjoyed. It was the hardest music we’d played live since the garage days and it was nice for us both to be able to let loose on the rock scene again. That club eventually closed down after a member of the church footing the bill to run the place discovered he ‘allowed’ kids to smoke outside in the back. It was after George that my musical tastes really started to broaden. For some reason more and more opportunities within the church were arising. There had always been the occasional special event that needed a band and both Adam and I were often willing to oblige. But right about here is where the Christmas specials, Easter specials, ice cream socials, Valentines Day sock hops, talent shows, chili cook-offs, weddings, memorial services, etc seemed to really ramp up for some reason. Perhaps God was just keeping our chops up. It seemed like every month there for awhile there was some event that required significant time and effort in the group setting to give a decent playing for. Adam was engaged and towards the end of this time (2002-2003) had gotten married. As all this was happening I started listening more and more to different and new types of music. And my taste for the lighter and darker sides of rock and roll were both intrigued and it was also at this time, God really placed a yearning in my heart to do something significant with my ability to play music. Something more than just worship and church banquets. I prayed every night that He would use me, in any way He wished, to have an effective ministry for Him. It was about a month or two later, that I got the call.
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 4:48 PM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Calling Shotgun BREAKING NEWS!!! It has been brought to my attention just this afternoon that the presence of everybody being outside, just before you step into the car, is not a prerequisite to calling shotgun as the new improved official rules of shotgun have finally been posted. As quoted from www.shotgunrules.com: "Some people choose to use a variation of this rule and require that all occupants be out of the building before Shotgun can be called. This does not work. It leads to everyone calling Shotgun at the same time and often ends in physical violence. " I consider this to be the final word on the matter and will no longer continue to make the extended concession for those that "dilly-daddle" leaving before I can call "shotgun".
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 2:44 PM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
In a Nutshell: My Guitar Playing Idealogy & Lists
I'm fairly young, so philosophical discussions about something as enigmatic as guitar tone rarely reach a point in my mind where I'm ready to make a public statement about what I think. But I've plateaued at this fundamental philosophy and I think I've found a place where I can stake my claim.
THE GUITAR TONE SOJOURN I'm 24 now. Started playing the axe when I was 14. Young in age and young in experience relatively speaking. I've owned, borrowed, and traded for nearly every major type of guitar, amp and piece of tone-shaping equipment I could get my hands on over the past 10 years and I've come to one, inescapable conclusion: That 90% of everything I want tonally simply does not matter to the ears, minds and hearts of 90% of the listeners of my music. What's more, they don't hear what I hear, even if it does matter to them. And what's even MORE, is that the ones that it does matter to, they realize that they're not hearing what I'm hearing because they're like me, so they make concessions for it. Please allow me to explain. I would wager the supermajority of listeners to my music, are not musicians at all, much less guitar players. These individuals don't recognize different types of guitar tones consciously and as such, so long as the tone is not incredibly offensive to their listening, they don't catch the nuances of different amps, guitars, rack gear, pedals, etc. Thus, they don't care and don't even realize they don't care. Of the percentage that are guitarists or guitar enthusiasts, most of them likely fall into the category of "not experienced enough to know the difference between good guitar tone and lousy tone" (for whatever reason be it too mid-rangy, ice pick distortion, muddiness, etc). Of course good vs. lousy is subjective anyway and impossible to quantify, but I think in-general forums like this one have a pretty consensus taste of what good tone sounds like. But quantifying what "good" tone is, is not my objective here. Suffice it to say though, they're level of caring and attention to such details is nearly as irrelevant as the non-musician. So that leaves an extraordinary minority of guitarists and guitar enthusiasts that happen to hear my music and will pay close attention to the guitar parts. I put myself in this category of listener. It's not ALL I focus on, but I do tend to notice. Now technique is one thing, and I won't go there today. Today I'm talking about tone. When I listen to a recording, or hear a guitar at a live venue, I'm doing just that. Evaluating the tone. But as I evaluate it, I'm also thinking to myself that this guitar is going through a series of rack gear and/or pedals, into an amp of some fashion or another, being mic'd by the PA, going through a mixing board, through another series of effects to power amps and through another series of speakers. As I think about that I try to ascertain what aspects of the tonal quality I'm hearing are contributed to which components along this chain. If I don't like it, there could be a hundred reasons why and it may or may not necessarily have anything to do with the guitarists tonal tendencies. Thus it's hard to pinpoint if the tone I'm hearing is "good" or "lousy" and why. So I make mental concessions for anything I feel is lacking in the sound. It's even worse on an album through a stereo. There's an even longer chain of equipment and sound reproduction going on there. So in the end, I find myself wondering who really cares?!?! If in the end I have no real control most of the time over how good or how lousy it sounds, why bother? The answer is simple. I care. Let's face it...most of the money spent and time & effort invested into this is for our own sakes. WE want it to sound the way we like. Because the people that listen to our music, most of the time don't hear what we hear. But they like it all the same. It puts ridiculous, unquantifiable debates like "tube vs. solid state" and "valvestate vs. modeling" and "single coils vs. humbuckers" into perspective a little bit for me. In the end, it really only comes down to me. I can't blame the masses for my obsessive compulsive search for a great tone. Because they just don't care like I do. How many of us have bought gear because we wanted to impress, one-up, or simply avoid the nagging teases from fellow guitarists when we play out? What kind of reason is that? I personally am going to try to make a conscious effort to spend less time worrying about the tone of my guitar, and more time worrying about the quality of writing both when I play...and when I listen. :Bazooka-Joe Gear I've Owned: Electric Guitars: Peavey Predator (bought from Beacocks/present from parents, ca. 1994) - Sill have Yamaha Pacifica 112 (bought from Kevin @Hudsons Bay, ca. 1996) - still have 1995 Gibson Les Paul Centenniel (won from Compuserve contest, 1950's re-issue) - sold on consignment via Beacocks ca. 1999 Fender Stratocaster (gift from parents, Mexican, ca. 1997) - sold 2004, ebay Gibson Nighthawk Custom (borrowed long-term from Derek, 2003-2004) - returned to Derek, late 2004 Carvin SC90S (bought from factory, 2004) - returned, 2004 Gibson Nighthawk Landmark (bought off ebay, ca. 1994) - still have Acoustic Guitars: Yamaha (gift, dreadnaught, from David) - still have Oscar Schmidt (bought in '96 for school) - sold to friend Ibanez cutaway/pickup (traded PA equipment to JR [Jay's friend] for) - sold to uncle, 2004 Ventura flowerprint pickguard (borrowed from friend, 1994) - returned to Jay [first guitar ever] Bass Guitars:Fender Squier Jazz (bought from Eric) - Adam has? or Dan? Samick 5-string (bought on eBay, ca. 2000) - sold on ebay, 2004 Yamaha RBX765A 5-string (gift from parents ca. 2000/01) - sold to Mike, 2005 Bass Amps: Peavey Mark VI (bought ca. 1999) - sold on ebay, 2004 Peavey 115 cabinet (bought ca. 1999) - sold on ebay, 2004 Peavey 210 cabinet (bought ca. 1999) - sold on ebay, 2004 Peavey TKO 115 (sort of inherited from dad, ca. 1999/2000) - traded to Mike for pedals Guitar Amps: Peavey 110 Audition (gift from parents, Beacocks, ca. 1994) - traded in Beacocks, ca. 1994/95 Peavey Stereo Chorus 212 (trade-in buy, Beacocks, ca. 1995) - traded in Beacocks, ca. 1995/96 Peavey 50 Classic 410 (trade-in buy, Beacocks, ca. 1995/96) - still have Line 6 Pod XT preamp & foot controller (bought, Guitar Center, 2004) - returned 2004, Guitar Center Marshall VS100H head (bought, craigslist.org (david), 2005) - sold to new music store in SE PDX 4/05 Fender GE-412 cabinet (bought, craigslist.org (david), 2005) - sold to new music store in SE PDX 4/05 Unknown brand silverface 112 (from Jay with microphone & stand) - Adam has? or Dan? Stompboxes: Yamaha Overdrive (given from Kevin, ca. 1994) - lost, ca. 1995 Yamaha Flanger (given from Kevin, ca. 1994) - lost, ca. 1995 Zoom 1010 multi-effects unit (present from parents, ca. 1994/95) - still have Boss PS-2 Pitch Shift/Delay (bought, Beacocks, ca. 1994) - broke and lost, ca. 1995/96 Boss TU-2 Tuner (bought, Guitar Center, 2003) - still have Boss MT-2 Metal Zone (bought, John, 2003) - sold, ebay, 2004 Boss LS-2 Line Selector (bought, Guitar Center, 2004) - sold, ebay, 2004 D.O.D. or Dunlop? Passive volume (bought, Beacocks, ca. 1994) - broke and lost D.O.D. Digital Delay/Sampler (traded TKO bass amp to Mike, 2003) - broke, still have D.O.D. Super Stereo Chorus (traded TKO bass amp to Mike, 2003) - dad has D.O.D. Compressor/Limiter (traded TKO bass amp to Mike, 2003) - Jay is borrowing D.O.D. Ice Box Chorus (traded dad for my DOD chorus, 2003) - sold, ebay, 2004 D.O.D. Bass Compressor (can't remember if dad or I bought, ca. 1997/98) - dad has Marshall Shredmaster (traded TKO bass amp to Mike, 2003) - still have Dunlop original Crybaby Wah (bought, Beacocks, ca. 1995) - still have, needs work Dunlop Crybaby Wah (bought, Apple Music, 3/2005) - still have Morley PVO Volume (bought, Beacocks, ca. 1997/98) - broke, still have Danelectro Tuna Melt Tremolo (bought ebay, 2003) - sold, ebay, 2004 Danelectro Fish & Chips 7-band EQ (bought, ebay, 2004) - still have Line 6 DM-4 (bought, Guitar Center used, 2004) - traded, custompedalboards.com, 2005 Line 6 MM-4 (bought, Guitar Center used, 2004) - still have Line 6 DM-4 (bought again, eBay, used, 4/2005) - still have Digitech Digidelay (bought, Guitar Center, 2004) - still have Ernie Ball VP Jr. Volume (bought, Guitar Center, 2005) - still have Other: Samson Airline Wireless UHF (bought craigslist, 2004) - still have Dunlop DC Brick (bought Guitar Center, 2004) - traded in at Guitar Center +cash for Delay pedal and Pedal Power 2 Voodoo Labs Pedal Power II (bought, Guitar Center, 2004) - still have Custom Pedalboard from http://www.custompedalboards.com/ (traded my first Line 6 DM-4, 3/2005) - still have Most Personally Influential Guitarists: Christian Music Guitarists 1. Bob Hartman (petra) 2. Barry Blaire (audio audrenaline) 3. Jon Foreman (switchfoot) 4. Brian Wooten (whiteheart) 5. Matt Thiesen & Matt Hoopes (reliant k) 6. Oran Thornton (johnny q public) 7. Phil Keaggy 8. Joel Hanson (pfr) 9. Mark Lee (third day) 10. Jerome Fontamillas (switchfoot) Honorable Mention: Michael Sweet Studio Guitarists 1. Dan Huff 2. Wayne Kirkpatrick 3. Mark Townsend Modern Secular Music Guitarists 1. The Edge (u2) 2. Gavin Rossdale (bush) 3. Joe Satriani 4. Eddie VanHalen (van halen) 5. Brian Bell (weezer) 6. Tom DeLonge (blink 182) 7. Slash (guns n roses) 8. Eric Clapton 9. Art Alexakis (everclear) 10. Stevie Ray Vaughn Classic Secular Music Guitarists 1. Jimmy Page (led zep) 2. Brian May (queen) 3. Joe Walsh (eagles/aerosmith) 4. David Gilmore (pink floyd) 5. Lindsey Buckingham (fleetwood mac) 6. Elliott Randall (steely dan) 7. Scotty Moore (elvis presley) 8. George Harrison (beatles) 9. Alex Zivojinovich (rush) 10. Jimi Hendrix 11. Pete Townsend (the who) Favorite Guitar Solos: 1. "Stairway to Heaven" Jimmy Page, Led Zepplin (Zepplin IV) 2. "Eruption" Eddie Van Halen, Van Halen (Van Halen) 3. "Free Bird" Allen Collins, Gary Rossington, Lynrd Skynrd (Pronounced Leh-nerd Skin-nerd) 4. "Comfortably Numb" David Gilmour, Pink Floyd {The Wall) 5. "All Along The Watchtower" Jimi Hendrix, The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Electric Ladyland) 6. "November Rain" Slash, Guns n' Roses (Use Your Illusion I) 7. "One" Kirk Hammet, Metallica (...And Justice For All) 8. "Hotel California" Don Felder, Joe Walsh, The Eagles (Hotel California) 9. "Crazy Train" Randy Rhodes, Ozzy Osbourne (Blizzard of Ozz) 10. "Crossroads" Eric Clapton, Cream (Wheels of Fire) 11. "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" Jimi Hendrix, The J.H. Experience (Electric Ladyland) 12. "Johnny B. Goode" Chuck Berry, Chuck Berry (His Best, Volume One) 13. "Texas Flood" Stevie Ray Vaughan, Stevie Ray Vaughan (Texas Flood) 14. "Layla" Eric Clapton, Duane Allman, Derek and the Dominos (Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs) 15. "Floods" Dimebag Darrell, Pantera (The Great Southern Trendkill) 16. "Heartbreaker" Jimmy Page, Led Zepplin (Led Zepplin II) 17. "Cliffs of Dover" Eric Johnson, Eric Johnson (Ah Via Musicom) 18. "Little Wing" Jimi Hendrix, The J.H. Experience (Axis: Bold as Love) 19. "Highway Star" Ritchie Blackmore, Deep Purple (Machine Head) 20. "Bohemian Rhapsody" Brian May, Queen (A NIght at the Opera) 21. "Time" David Gilmour, Pink Floyd (Dark Side of the Moon) 22. "Sultans of Swing" Mark Knopfler, Dire Straights (Dire Straights) 23. "Bulls on Parade" Tom Morello, Rage Against the Machine (Evil Empire) 24. "Fade to Black" Kirk Hammett, Metallica (Ride the Lightning) 25. "Aqua Lung" Martin Barre, Jethro Tull (Aqualung) 26. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" Kurt Cobain, Nirvana (Nevermind) NOTE: I would like to replace Cobain's solo here with:26. "Always With You, Always With Me" Joe Satriani 27. "Pride and Joy" Stevie Ray Vaughan, Stevie Ray Vaughan (Texas Flood) 28. "Mr. Crowley" Randy Rhodes, Ozzy Osbourne (Blizzard of Ozz) 29. "For the Love of God" Steve Vai, Steve Vai (Passion & Warfare) 30. "Surfing with the Alien" Joe Satriani, Joe Satriani (Surfing with the Alien) 31. "Stranglehold" Ted Nugent, Ted Nugent (Ted Nugent) 32. "Machine Gun" Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix (Band of Gypsys) 33. "The Thrill is Gone" B.B. King, B.B. King (Completely Well) 34. "Paranoid Android" Johnny Greenwood, Radiohead (OK Computer) 35. "Cemetary Gates" Dimbag Darrell, Pantera (Cowboys from Hell) 36. "Black Star" Yngwie Malmsteen, Yngwie Malmsteen (Rising Force) 37. "Sweet Child o' Mine" Slash, Guns n' Roses (Appetite for Destruction) 38. "Whole Lotta Love" Jimmy Page, Led Zepplin (Led Zepplin II) 39. "Cortez the Killer" Neil Young, Neil Young (Zuma) 40. "Reelin' in the Years" Elliott Randall, Steely Dan (Can't Buy a Thrill) 41. "Brighton Rock" Brian May, Queen (Sheer Heart Attack) 42. "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" Eric Clapton, The Beatles (The Beatles) 43. "Sharp Dressed Man" Billy Gibbons, ZZ Top (Eliminator) 44. "Alive" Mike McCready, Pearl Jam (Ten) 45. "Light My Fire" Robby Krieger, The Doors (The Doors) 46. "Hot For Teacher" Eddie Van Halen, Van Halen (1984) 47. "Jessica" Dickey Betts, The Allman Brothers Band (Brothers and Sisters) 48. "Sympathy for the Devil" Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones (Beggar's Banquet) 49. "Europa" Carlos Santana, Carlos Santana (Amigos) 50. "Shock Me" Ace Frehley, Kiss (Alive II) 51. "Master of Puppets" Kirk Hammett, Metallica (Master of Puppets) 52. "Star Spangled Banner" Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix (The Ultimate Experience) NOTE: I would like to Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner solo further up (top 25). 53. "Since I've Been Loving You" Jimmy Page, Led Zepplin (Led Zepplin III) 54. "Geek USA" Billy Corgan, Smashing Pumpkins (Siamese Dream) 55. "Satch Boogie" Joe Satriani, Joe Satriani (Surfing with the Alien) 56. "War Pigs" Tony Iommi, Black Sabboth (Paranoid) 57. "Walk" Dimebag Darrell, Pantera (Vulgar Display of Power) 58. "Cocaine" Eric Clapton, Eric Clapton (Slowhand) 59. "You Really Got Me" Dave Davies, The Kinks (The Best of The Kinks, Vol. 1) 60. "Zoot Allures" Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa (Zoot Allures) 61. "No More Tears" Zakk Wyld, Ozzy Osbourne (No More Tears) 62. "Money" David Gilmour, Pink Floyd (Dark Side of the Moon) 63. "Black Hole Sun" Kim Thayil, Soundgarden (Superunknown) 64. "Little Red Corvette" Prince, Prince (1999)65. "In Bloom" Kurt Cobain, Nirvana (Nevermind) Note: I would like to replace Cobain's solo here with:65. "Powerhouse" Brian Wooten, White Heart (Powerhouse) 66. "Blue Sky" Duane Allman & Dickey Betts, The Allman Brothers Band (Eat a Peach) 67. "Beat It" ???, Michael Jackson (Thriller) 68. "Starship Troopers" Steve Howe, Yes (The Yes Album) 69. "And Your Bird Can Sing" George Harrison, The Beatles (Revolver) 70. "Purple Haze" Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix (Are you Experienced?) NOTE: I would move the Purple Haze solo further up (top 20) as well. 71. "Maggot Brain" Eddie Hazel, Funkadelic (Maggot Brain) 72. "Walk This Way" Joe Perry, Aerosmith (Toys in the Attick) 73. "Stash" Trey Anastasio, Phish (Picture of Nectar) 74. "Lazy" Richie Blackmore, Deep Purple (Machine Head) 75. "Wont Get Fooled Again" Pete Townshend, The Who (Who's Next?) 76. "Cinnamon Girl" Neil Young, Neil Young & Crazy Horse (Everybody Knows This is Nowhere) 77. "Man in the Box" Jerryt Cantrell, Alice in Chains (Facelift) 78. "Truckin'" Jerry Garcia, Grateful Dead (American Beauty) 79. "Mean Street" Eddie Van Halen, Van Halen (Fair Warning) 80. "You Shook Me All night Long" Angus Young, AC/DC (Back in Black) 81. "Sweet Jane" Steve Hunter& Dick Wagner, Lou Reed (Rock & Roll Animal) 82. "21st Century Schizoid Man" Robert Fripp, King Crimson (In the Court of the Crimson King) 83. "Scuttle Buttin'" Stevie Ray Vaughan, Stevie Ray Vaughan (Couldn't Stand the Weather) 84. "Santeria" Brad Nowell, Sublime (Sublime) 85. "Moonage Daydream" Mick Ronson, David Bowie (The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust) 86. "Whipping Post" Duane Allman & Dickey Betts, The Allman Brothers Band (At Fillmore East) 87. "Cult of Personality" Vernon Reid, Living Colour (Vivid) 88. "Kid Charlemagne" Denny Dias, Steely Dan (The Royal Scam) 89. "Killing in the Name of" Tom Morello, Rage Against the Machine (Rage Against the machine) 90. "Let it Rain" Eric Clapton, Eric Clapton (Eric Clapton) 91. "Heard it through the Grapevine" John Fogerty, Creedence Clearwater Revival (Cosmo's Factory) 92. "Stray Cat Strut" Brian Setzer, Stray Cats (Built for speed) 93. "The End" Robby Krieger, The Doors (The Doors) 94. "Working Man" Alex Lifeson, Rush (Rush) 95. "Yellow Ledbetter" Mike McCready, Pearl Jam (Jeremy{UK}) 96. "Honkey Tonk Women" Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones (Hot Rocks 1964) 97. "Cherub Rock" Billy Corgan, Smashing Pumpkins 98. "Under a Glass Moon" John Petrucci, Dream Theatre (Images & Words 99. "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" Jeff Beck, Jeff Beck (Blow by Blow) 100. "Three Days" Dave Navarro, Jane's Addiction (Ritual de lo Hibitual) Some Honorable Mentions:"Beyond Belief" Bob Hartman, Petra (Beyond Belief)"Independence Day" Brian Wooten, White Heart (Powerhouse)"Jesus Freak" Oran Thornton, dc Talk (Jesus Freak)"Let That Be Enough" Jon Foreman, Switchfoot (New Way to Be Human)"All This and Heavey too" Michael Sweet, Michael Sweet (Michael Sweet)"Place In This World" Dan Huff, Michael W. Smith (Go West Young Man)"Secret Ambition" Studio Guitarist, Michael W. Smith (Go West Young Man)"Spanish Fly" Eddie VanHalen, VanHalen ::(top 10)"Foxy Lady" Jimi Hendrix
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 10:03 AM
| 1 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Instructional: Guitar Technology for Dummies
I had to write a quick synopsis on guitar technology for my lead singer awhile back. Thought it interesting so I thought I'd post it.
This is a brief document outlining some of the terminology and common concepts utilized in the technology used in regards to the invention of the electrical guitar and its amplifiers. Hopefully, this is most everything you’ll need to hold a brief, but intelligent conversation with someone should the occasion arise. I’ll try not to get too heavy into the acoustic-electric physics. Basics Watts. A watt is a unit of electrical power (technically it’s current times voltage [Watt’s Law]). 1dB (or decibel) is the threshold of perceiving an increase in volume. 3dB isn’t much, but it takes twice as much power to increase in volume by 3dB. It takes 10x the power to get a doubling of the dB (volume). For example if you can produce 100dB of sound with 30 watts, to increase to 200dB would take 300 watts (or 300W). Solid State is a term referring to newer amps that use electrical systems that involve transistors and IC’s (integrated circuits or “chips”). Solid State is slang for “digital” essentially. Amps made prior to the late 70’s are not solid state. Older amps use electrical systems comprised of vacuum tubes or “tubes” for short instead of IC’s and transistors. These electrical systems are referred to as “analog”. Tubes are utilized specifically in the circuits responsible for shaping the tonal qualities that will be sent to the speakers. Newer amps can also utilize tubes, though they are considered higher end amps and usually will have integrated circuits and/or transistors in the components inside the amplifier not directly responsible for the tonal aspects and quality. Amplifiers Every amplifier consists of 3 things: a preamp, a power amp, and a speaker cabinet. The “preamp” is responsible for conditioning the sound. Your equalization is in your preamp. Equalization of course is the level of presence of various frequencies. The frequencies of concern for an electric guitar are generally between 100 and 6,400 Hertz (abbreviated Hz). The frequencies in question for a bass guitar are typically between 40 and 4,500Hz (though bass equalization will sometimes go as high as 10,000Hz – this for slapping mostly and as low as 30Hz which is only a subharmonic). The “power amp” is responsible for boosting the signal to a degree that the signal is audible when sent to a speaker or set of speakers. Both preamps and power amps can be either solid state or tube driven. If an amp has a tube preamp but a solid state power amp it is said to be a hybrid. These are fairly new Frankensteins and many swear they sound better than a solid state. Power amps for the electric guitar are rated as low as 10W and as high as 400W. Most of the guys playing guitar in stage-sharing bands that we’ll come across will be using 50W to 200W at most. There are only really a few amps that produce more output than 200W and they’re quite expensive typically. Bass amps however, range in power from 100W to 2000W. Most of the bands we’ll play with will likely have bass amps rated for 250W to 800W. Mike Adams’ cab was rated for 1200 or 1600. It was quite overkill for us. Speaker Cabinets are of course the enclosure, or box, that contain the speakers. Speaker cabs are rated to accept a maximum wattage from a power amp. To exceed this wattage is very dangerous and will usually damage the speakers. In some amps, such as yours and mine (currently) the enclosures are part of the same construct as the preamp and power amp. Amps that house all three of these components (like yours and mine) are referred to as Combo Amps. Other amps, like Andrew’s and Mike Adams’ the preamp and power amp are in one construct and you connect a cable (or two if stereo) to the speaker cabinet. The housing for the preamp and power amp is affectionately referred to as a head. Note that the cables connecting a guitar to an amp are NOT the same as the cables that connect a power amp to a speaker cabinet. Those cables are called speaker cables and should never be confused with instrument cables. These concepts regarding the preamp, power amp and speaker cab also apply to sound reinforcement gear (PA equipment), though the use of tubes is generally considered to be less important of a debate. Many amplifiers have two additional ports on them that make up what is called an effects loop. Sometimes it is not labeled as that, instead the ports are labeled as “Send” and “Return”. On other amps the ports are labeled “Pre Out” and “Power In”. What these two ports do is separate the preamp and the power amp allowing the guitarist to put other devices in between the conditioned signal and the power stage. This is handy mostly for effect pedals, thus the term “effects loop”. There are essentially 4 types of amplifiers. Two of them you already have read about: solid state and tube. These are the two most popular types. A third type that is gaining more and more in popularity are modeling amps. Jon’s guitar amp (the Line 6 Spider) was a modeling amp. Modeling amps, in their most basic definition are solid state. I’ve never seen one that was tube and probably never will (maybe a hybrid at best). What makes a modeling amp unique to its own category is they have an array of different tones they can produce, and each tone has been designed to sound like a classic, vintage, or widely sought-after & appreciated amplifier model. The Pod and the Bass Pod are modeling preamps. These amps often contain a wide assortment of onboard modulation effects, delays, etc. We’ll cover effects later. The fourth type of amplifier is called a rectifier. Some amps, most popularly Mesa Boogies, use what is called a rectifier to assist in the tonal production. It’s essentially another stage within the power amp that converts AC to DC before sending it to the speakers. It creates a unique tonal quality that is highly coveted in some circles. The rectifiers themselves can exist in either in tube form or in solid state form but typically are only used on higher end tube-driven amplifiers. I really don’t know much about how they work but I can pick one out of a crowd without a problem generally. They have a pretty unique sound. Guitars This will be a much shorter chapter than the one on amplifiers. Guitars are quite simple by comparison. Every electric guitar has three things that are different from an acoustic. An output jack, pickups, and control knobs. Very simple. The output jack is simply where the cable goes in to connect the guitar to the amp. The control knobs are just that. Typically an electric guitar will have at least two. Volume and Tone. Volume is self-explanatory. Tone, generally increases the amount of treble and presence the higher you turn it. It’s hard to explain the audible differences. The best way to really learn what a tone control knob does is to hear it. Some guitars have additional knobs for additional parameters or to turn on/off onboard features of a guitar. There’s hundreds of possibilities so I won’t explore every one, needless to say knobs that are not well-labeled on a guitar should not be played with too much if you don’t know what you’re doing (especially if it’s not your guitar). J Anyway, now to pickups. Single coil pickups are a series of 6 magnetic polls, targeted directly at the strings of the guitar. The magnets pick up the vibrations of the strings and create an electrical signal that is then sent to the amplifier. Humbuckers are a single pickup, but they look like 2 put closely together. There are 12 magnetic polls instead of 6. The additional set of magnets in parallel produce a hum-canceling effect, thus the name “humbucker”. They also produce a much louder and stronger tone (more polls equals hotter signal). Some guitars are built with a switch making a humbucker a single coil pickup when you flip it. That switch is called a coil tap. Well, I hope that helps some. If you want to know anything else more specifically shoot me an email and I’ll be happy to answer any questions I can.
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 10:01 AM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
Essay: Worst Show Ever
I'm not naming names here, some of the details have been slightly modified...but this really did happen to us.
Background: In July of 2004 our bass player quit. He was 19, just graduated, super talented! And right after our recording was finished and he got his name on the liner notes, he shipped it to a university and used it to get himself a full-ride music scholarship. We had shows lined up at the time so we had to fill the spot fast. We did. The replacement was a nice guy, but 15 years older than everyone else, and had just picked up the bass a year or two ago. We've all been playing since junior high/high school. Anyway, he didn't last long, so we paid a pro to play bass for us during the fall of '04. Story: In the Fall of '04 we were made aware of a band tournament being put on in the midwest for bands specifically just like ours. Where we're at, doing what we do. The past the winners of this tournament have gone on to label contracts. This particular tournament came heavily recommended by somebody, who heard from somebody else, that it was worth it for us to go. We looked into it, submitted our stuff, and were chosen as one of the bands to "compete". The website was quite professional, the sound and lighting was supposed to be pro caliber, the press quotes seemed legit, and the flyers, etc made it look like quite an opportunity. We practiced and practiced and as we did we found out more and more about this show. There's like 24 bands and three rounds. The bands are split in groups of 8 to do initial competition. Two winners are picked from each group. Two groups of three do a second round and then the last round is the two "best" bands. And plane tickets aren't covered. So I'm starting to freak out about where the money's coming from when the argument was brought up we couldn't afford to NOT go. See, every band that competed, did so in front of A: industry professionals in the audience. People from labels, management companies, booking agencies, regional promoters, etc. B: a panel of judges, even more impressive with their industry professionalism credentials. These judges did critiques of your performance and scored you, gave you advice, etc whether you won or not. And the winner of the tournament goes on to play a showcase in a huge music city (NY/LA/Nashville). They threw out some names of some very important people that were guaranteed to be there. One of whom we’ve been trying to get a hold of for some time now. We even had some contacts of signed bands, that are successful in a big way now, that have played there before. More on that later. The hired gun bass player simply states, so long as his expenses are covered and he makes his usual fee plus 15%, he’ll come, but he won’t fly his amp cross country. Slightly perturbed that I now have to rent gear for him to play at this fly date at an inflated rate, we agree to it and I start calling music stores in the town. It was more or less agreed this was too good an opportunity to miss out on. So we shell out the bucks to not only fly from where we're at, to where this event is ($800 per person roundtrip) but to ship our overweight and oversized gear on the plane ($300 in additional luggage fees). So we get there, and it's snowing. Now apparently, this town doesn't get snow very often, because they had a whole inch and the guy is now telling me on my cell phone they're considering canceling the show, as my captain announces we're about to land at our destination. Some nonsense about the sound guy not wanting to come out in "blizzard conditions". The ‘hired gun’ bass player is now beginning to whine. Loudly and frequently and my patience is already wearing thin. Remember, hired guns are not responsible for any expenses, and he gets paid whether we do or not. Here we are in this airport, trying to rent a van that will fit us and all our gear so we can drive another 100 miles to where the event is. The venue did not pay for plane tickets, overage charges, a rental car, backlined gear, food, lodging, nor is he paying us to come and play. The only hope we have of making any money is selling mass merchandise to the supposed 500-1000 in attendance and dozens of industry professionals. But we can’t even do that if he cancels the show. I’m thinking the other 8 bands are going to be with me on this, even though I’ve never met them, so I start applying some pressure. “You can’t cancel this show. We flew all the way out here on our own dime to do this. We’re not making any money, we’re all taking massive losses because we believe we have a good chance at success here. Half an inch of snow, that I’m watching start to melt in front of me (and you’re only an hour and a half away) is not ‘blizzard conditions’. You tell that sound guy he’s going to owe us a serious chunk of change if he doesn’t get there!” Just then the sound guy miraculously shows up according to the fellow on the phone and we’re “good to go”. Bass player: “I’m hungry. Who’s buying me dinner?” I hang up with him only to find out from my keyboard player that there are no vans available at any of the in-airport car rental companies. So we had to pay for a shuttle to take us to a specialty vehicle rental place. Then we had to stand in the snow with our gear while a vehicle is procured, costing us twice what we budgeted for car rental. It would’ve been cheaper to get 2 SUV’s at Hertz. So we finally get a vehicle, hit the highway and drive 100 miles in slush and the most boring country in the southwest. When we get to the venue we pull in to find that it is an old abandoned warehouse. The bass player is now beginning sing a chorus of “I knew this was a bad idea,” and the rest of us are really starting to think we misjudged this event. We had no idea. The place was all closed up still. 3 hours till soundcheck. It’s early but I thought somebody would be here. We circle the place because first reaction is, “this can’t be the place.” But it is. A small poster on the side door has the venue’s name on it and our worst fears are beginning to be confirmed. We’re playing in a warehouse. I’m trying to shoosh the expletives from the back seat and read the flyer at the same time. It’s an old flyer. I can’t see what the text says but I see some faces on the cover. Looks like a previous show from awhile back. So this is definitely the place. Silence from the van. Dead silence. But there’s still a glimmer of hope. OK, so the acoustics are going to royally suck, and the sound guy may not show, and we’ve blown a small fortune getting here….but we’re here. About to play in front of some very important people and make a good first impression on them too. Pep talks are useless though. We go get some food to shut the bass monkey (as he’s becoming effectionately referred to). Bass monkey is screaming wildly and doing to the verbal equivalent of flinging poo all over the van. After dinner we head back to find a couple bands, the promoter, and the sound guy shows up on our tale, one hour before sound check. We all get in there and there’s…I don’t know….5 bands maybe there? I can’t tell band members from sound crew from venue employees. They all look the same. And nobody knows who anybody is except for a few guys that are walking around shaking hands, giving hugs, exchanging witty banter, saying things like “What’s it been? 6 weeks?” We are obviously the outsider. As the sound crew sets up the stage, the promoter gathers us all together to have a little chat. He starts listing off bands and where they came from, giving nods to those he’s had direct communication about the event with over email and phone. It hits me that all the other bands drove in from adjacent states, or two states away. We’re the only one that flew, and the only one not from the Southwest with an accent to prove it. I wasn’t sure if that would work in our favor or not. As he talks and explains how the transitions will work, who’s MC-ing, how long we have, rules about stage activity, etc. He’s not making eye contact with anyone. Almost purposefully. He’s glued to his clipboard. As I scan the circle of bands waiting to hear their name and introduction, I notice a few things. There’s a theme in their clothes and suddenly I realize all these other bands are from the hard core side of rock. Punk, metal, thrash, hardcore, emo, etc. And I begin to worry we did not screen this event correctly and we’re possibly severely out of place. My band and I are rock and roll. We ride the lines between pop rock and hard rock, but you would not classify us as punk, metal, thrash, hardcore, emo, etc. But for a second I actually think this may go in our favor with the judges, and that’s when I hear “crowd reaction will be a big part of your final score”. Having no idea what this event was promoted as, I once again, start to worry. We may be a lone fish in a sea of musical enthusiasts that not only dislikes our genre, but hates what we play with a passion, just because of what the style is regardless of how well we execute it. I have the next hour to think on this and worry myself into a basketcase. If we don’t win tonight, will the whole ordeal have been a complete waste of thousands of dollars? YES!!! We draw straws to see who goes when. We drew the shortest straw and, as fate would have it, have to/get to go last. I step down from the 5 foot tall stage as the bands disperse to get ready, only to find we have the worst possible location in the place to setup our merch booth. Our tee shirts, CD’s, stickers, buttons, and hooded sweatshirts will be in the back corner, far from any lighting and too far away to monitor from the stage with no one to man it while we’re playing. I suddenly have to pee. When I make it to the most grotesque bathroom I suddenly feel my bile duct raging. I turn the light on and a couple cock roaches scurry to a nest in the wall. Suppressing the need to vomit, holding my nose from the stench, and pissing all at the same time I run out only to find the handleless door to the unisex “bathroom” did not close behind me when I went in and there are some seedy looking characters that have been watching my ordeal since I went in (both genders). I walk out without flushing the toilet. There’s no water in it, and I’m not waiting around and see if it even COULD flush. My fears were once again confirmed as the show starts. What passed for a pro caliber light show was a teenager flipping the buttons on and off on the light faders and an old guy in the back turning on house lights when the MC called for it from the stage. You could hear three chord strums for every one the guitar player made from the back of the warehouse where our merch booth was. We sat silent, arms crossed. We sold a couple of CD’s which wouldn’t even put half a tank in the van we rented. The ceiling had to be 30 feet high and metal. Like listening to music in a tin can. The closer you got to the stage the less reverberation you heard, but the louder it got to. And yes, no other band was anything like us. A couple hardcore screamo bands played first. The first band, from the town the event was in, only paused long enough from his top-of-his-lungs screaming to catch his next breath. By their third song he had no voice left and only let out air and a small squeak when he went to scream. The guitar and bass player played a barrage of power chords in drop D. The drummer broke 8 sticks, 2 heads and cracked his high hat during 5 songs. The dozens of kids on the floor in front of the stage (yes I said dozens, not hundreds) were either standing there pretending to be bored or moshing like I’ve never seen slam dancing and they hooted and hollered between every song. The warehouse was filled with the stench of sweat by the third song. They turned on the heater (because afterall, it’s blizzard conditions outside) about half way through the event, which was almost as loud as the band on stage at the time and right over our merch table. The heater suspended from the roof and had to be a thousand watts. It was designed to heat the whole warehouse. It rattled and blew hot air all over our table. I searched and searched, weaving in and out of the crowd, to find these judges and the industry professionals that were watching, critiquing, evaluating and taking notes on the performances. They were nowhere to be found. Between the 3rd and 4th bands, the MC gave a “shout out” to the judges, who were in the back, on top of the concession stand seated in lawnchairs. I found out later the “industry professionals” were members from last year’s competition. Not even members of the winning band, just your average joes. The band before us finished with their 5th trashcan ending for the night, we prepped to take the stage. The transition went smooth and we huddled together as the MC kept the crowd interested. Over the course of the night the crowd had tripled in size since the first. Late comers have moseyed in. One group of kids that all came together, looked more like our usual patrons. As we huddled the last pep talk of the night was force fed from all of us to all of us. The feeling was unanimous. Let’s not let these playing conditions stop us from doing what we do best and giving these people a good show. That’s what we do. Let’s go do it. Forget about everything else. Bassmonkey, time to earn your keep. We took the stage and played our opening intro. When I hit the first chord the lights kinda blasted at us and we saw everybody for the first time. The synergy we have at every show was there. The thoughts of the horrible conditions, money wasted, all of it was gone, shed from memory for the duration of our 5 song set. Somehow I almost think the trials made us play better. As the same mix blared from every monitor on stage, nobody complained. We did our job and…get this…this crowd of now mixed musical taste was so incredibly into it. We were all over that stage, jumping around, getting them into it, throwing water at the sweaty masses and they loved it and screamed for more. We played no ballads, because for 5 songs, we wanted to keep the energy up. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was just my own adrenaline playing tricks on me, but we left that stage with an impromptu trashcan ending of our own and left them screaming for more, and I really thought, hey, maybe this was worth it afterall. The MC took the stage and was ready to announce the winner. Pretending to rip open the unsealed generic envelope for drama, he pulled out the piece of paper and read the hand-written word scratched in pencil. It was the first band. The crowd was now only half interested knowing the last band had played and were slowly migrating out the door. A few dozen cheered loudly, but mostly people looked at each other and mouthed the question, “Which one was that?” I heard one girl say, “That was the last one….had to be.” It was not. As the MC announced second place, which I had completely forgotten about, and was really curious to see if we’d get the nod, because we rocked the place, said to myself “it doesn’t matter if it’s us…we’re not coming back here.” It too, was also not us. First place went to the first hard core band. The bass chord playing, guy that lost his voice from screaming, drummer that broke half his set, screamo band. The second place band was a 3-piece teenage instrumental thrash band. It was debatable, in my mind, whether we were the best or the third band. They were hard-hitting with catchy hooks and really good writing. I thought for sure we’d take first and second with them if the judging was honest, but I had my doubts from the beginning whether or not that would be the case. The mother of one of the teenagers in the second place band came up to me as we were loading out in the melting snow. She handed me a piece of paper and said, “You should have won.” The letter said she was told by the promoter that her son’s band, and the band that took first would win this event. The two local bands. The first place band, an ex-house band of the venue, had a cousin of the promoter and used to play in the band the other judges were in. As we pulled away from the venue, ready to put this all behind us, the promoter tracked us down and handed us a packet of papers. “You almost forgot your judge’s review,” he said with a smug look on his face. As the bassmonkey prepared to fling verbal poo at the guy, I stopped him, thanked him, took the paperwork and drove away. The “review” was most insulting. Commenting on everything from poor timing to the lead singer’s shirt. BTW, our timing is dictated by metronome to the drummer via headphones and he was on all night. They were making this crap up. Peppered throughout the review were comments like “Your musical genre has no social relevance today.” And “either go softer or go louder, but stop playing pop rock”. Some comments were simply cheap shots, “You suck”. No elaboration, no justification, no room to argue. We never saw their faces, we never met them, they did not offer their names on the forms they filled out. We drove to the airport, bassmonkey complaining the whole way about wanting a shower and needing to find a 24 hour fitness when we get the city. We slept in the van for 5 hours parked in a hotel parking lot, ate nothing. We turned in the van, paid for another shuttle, paid another overage charge for the gear, boarded the plane and flew home. We said nothing to each other, only slept. The single most expensive learning experience I’ve ever had right there. We recovered. We’re all good now and still playing, Touring very soon as a matter of fact. We found ourselves another bass player that we kept as a member and we’re all much tighter friends. But that….was the worst show I ever played. :Bazooka-Joe
Bazooka-Joe made it so at 9:55 AM
| 0 class clowns in the back of the class were bored from throwing pencils in the ceiling and paused long enough to comment on this post
|
