One Toke Over The Line

My first real road gig was a year with Matt “Guitar” Murphy in 1987. Matt, of course, is a real road warrior, and the gig was a great experience, an excellent hang, and we made a lot of great music. I probably learned as much from listening to Matt play the blues in “G” every night as I’ve learned from anybody ever; it was a real study in how to stretch a melody over the time and how to make every note count, and Matt is a direct link to the guys who made that music up in the first place. His first road gig was with Howlin’ Wolf in 1948. Those tours were also a great look at how a real veteran did the road; of all the things there are to piss somebody off on a 3-month tour of blues joints, I only ever saw Matt actually get pissed off a couple times. We drove through 47 of the 50 states in that year and flew to Alaska. My very first night on the gig, we played in Fort Lauderdale, then drove 1200 miles to Houston and played the next night.

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Chapter Two: In Which I Sell My Soul for a Vox Jaguar Combo Organ

 

I feel it is finally time to unburden myself of a terrible secret. In the late 1970s I participated in the prosecution of a gruesome experiment in which innumerable innocent people were made ill. Countless others would have been sickened to learn the nature of their exposure to this exercise. But I deceive myself. The nightmare that took place that awful summer was no mere experiment. It was a crime.
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Fun with mortification

Over 30 years playing on stages from dirt floors to the Hollywood Bowl, I’ve participated in a few dozen truly awkward on-stage moments.  But one stands head and shoulders above the others as my crowning embarrassment.  First, some of the runners-up:

MORTIFICATION BY PROXY:  In 1986, I was unemployed, and unemployable, after having struggled for four long months with my fuel-injected 1969 Volkswagen 1600 Squareback, which I finally just left by the side of the Long Island Expressway just this side of “Cahoots” off exit 54.  So I was thrilled when I got a call to go to Florida to work on my first cruise ship, the “Scandinavian Sky”.  The “Sky” was a little glorified garbage scow doing day cruises out of Port Canaveral, FL. I made $275 a week.  And each morning, the cruise director, Robert somebody, would come bounding out with a thick crust of scabs under his nose from all the cocaine he was doing and warble the theme from “The Love Boat” while we played behind him.
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CHAPTER ONE: I Give Birth

..to a healthy, bouncing newborn BLOG.  Welcome to the grand opening! There’ll be balloons for the kids, a beer garden sponsored by O’Doul’s (featuring the green bottles AND the brown ones!), and this person will serve as our DJ.  I know, I know, but live musicians are such a pain in the ass. I intend to use this space to rattle on on a wide variety of subjects, from biographical nuggets of my dramatic history (soon to be a Lifetime Network movie starring Jim J. Bullock), to thoughts on the state of this rotten business glamorous music-industry utopia, to some ideas on playing, producing, composing, arranging, mixing, mastering, and the secret recipe for my famous “Guest Bedroom Guacamole”. Hopefully you will find it worth reading; if not, it can always be printed out and used to line the bottom of the bird cage. A few thoughts before I dive in:
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