Over the last few years, I've noticed a trend in movies to add points clearly motivated by political concerns. Nothing new, of course, but I've become more sensitive to it lately....perhaps as a result of our current political climate. Sometimes these additions have completely ruined movies for me. I'll give an example: "Arrival."
Now, all in all, I thought the movie is well made, acted, etc. The basic story is intriguing. What if aliens came to earth, and we were charged with figuring out some means of communication with them? I find it all interesting, and certainly within the realm of possibility. So, for the first three-quarters of the movie, I was invested, although I found the plot point of the lead character having lost a child an "uh oh." And, surely enough, that whole point reared a huge reveal at the end that ruined the entire movie for me.
It's not that I don't like children (I really like their innocence, for one thing), and I do want families to continue to exist. But I'm worn out by movies having some sort of "having a family/children is everything" messages. And this might be a big reach, but I find them a way Hollywood studios can prove to the religious right that "we care about children! And life! See, it's in the movie!" Like I said, maybe a big reach. But I don't remember movies from even fifteen years ago having the same sort of "but....children!" message to them. Recently, my wife reminded me of Maude Flanders' oft-repeated refrain in The Simpsons: "what about the children?"
Another one, and it ties into a movie I watched yesterday, is "A Quiet Place." I believe I wrote in this blog about the plot point in that one that I found utterly ridiculous. The couple in the story have lost one child during the monster epidemic going on, and so, months later, the woman is pregnant. AFTER the epidemic of monsters killing anything emitting sound has been going on. Whaaat? You want to bring a baby into that world? A baby that's bound to.....uh......CRY???? There's a whole reveal of a box they have built that they can put the kid in, with what looks like a full CPAP mask to put over the kid's face. Sweet Jeebus, really??? At that point, I wanted this whole family to die, if they're going to be that stupid. "I'm sorry, honey, but I know you understand. Hand and blow jobs only, until there ain't no more monsters, okay?" That would be more like it. I don't think the movie would've suffered one whit using that logic. And otherwise, the movie's good. But again, the message is: people have to have children. And at any time ever. Ya know what I think? People do have to have children, the human race needs to go on, but maybe after the vicious monsters that eat anything making noise are dealt with, or are dead, or whatever. Let's wait a bit, shall we?
I watched a movie yesterday called "The Silence." It was recommended to my viewing habit, I suppose due to watching the "Sabrina" show, as both Kiernan Shipka and Miranda Otto are in it. Now, this move, again pretty well done, is similar in many ways to "A Quiet Place." "The Mist, " too, really. Some creatures, apparently living in a sealed cave for who knows how long, are freed by some spelunkers. They kill the cavers and fly to off to wreak havoc on the eastern seaboard. In this film, Shipka's character has recently lost her hearing, so the family has learned to sign a bit, and that is a help. But there is no pregnancy to deal with. Thank you. There are some heart-wrenching scenes in it, for sure, but no stupid ones. And there are the notions of how many people are forming their own sometimes brutal religious cults to try to deal with the situation. That felt completely authentic to me. Also, as the creatures are somewhat localized, at least for the time being, the fact that electricity and wi-fi still existed made more sense to me.
But, when looking at the Wikipedia page for the movie, I saw that it's rating about 32% on Rotten Tomatoes, and people have a lot of issues with it; probably the main one being its similarity to "A Quiet Place." Yeah, that may be, but you know what? I like it much, much more than "A Quiet Place." (purses lips, blows raspberry) So there. Come to think of it, there was an episode of "Black MIrror" sort of similar to this, but I can't remember it that well. I think those monsters were robots of some sort.
Yesterday, Pocket FishRmen played a soup party at Dozen Street in Austin. Yes, a soup party. I had a couple of the offerings, one from our own Cris Burns, and liked them both, although by the time we got there, said offerings were lukewarm at best. Our set was fine, although I learned a huge lesson. I wore a pig mask yesterday, that I can play in okay, but Lance should not play on a backline kit he isn't that familiar with while donning a mask. During the first song, I got tangled up in the drum rims a couple of times and was flubbing some things. After that, though, all was fine. At least, there wasn't too much of a crowd, and I soldiered through okay. I had added several Seinfeld "no soup for you" type samples to the SPD-SX and went overboard with those. It was fun overall. Cris Burns was especially smokin', it seemed.
We were home by 10 and watched a couple of movies last night (yesterday was a big day for watchin'!). The first was "Gwen," which came to us via Shudder. Categorized as folk horror, I thought Michelle might dig it. Not sure I would call it horror, minus one effective jump scare, but it was effective. And a complete downer. After that, I went for the Blu ray of "Werewolf in a Girls' Dormitory." Or "Lycanthropus," if you like the original Italian title better. I do. About three-quarters of the way through the movie, Michelle asked me "why did it get that goofy title?" American distribution houses loved to re-title these movies with phrases they thought would bring in the young people. It's a pretty good, fun movie. And starring the first Mrs. Roman Polanski, of whom I knew not. It also has Luciano Pigozzi, or as he's known, the Italian Peter Lorre, in it. It pre-dates the Italian horror and giallo boom, but its script comes from Dardano Sarchetti, who wrote many.
The night before, we watched the Joe Bob Briggs Christmas show on Shudder. We almost made it all the way through the third movie, but I bailed due to a weird stomachache. Finished it off early yesterday. Fun show; the movies were "Black Christmas," "Jack Frost," and "Silent Night Deadly Night 2." Can't say I thought much of "Jack Frost." "Black Christmas" is always welcome, and I was surprisingly entertained by "SNDN2." I agree that the lead performance in that one is "one for the ages."
Onward, folks.
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Sunday, December 1, 2019
"The Irishman" / Rock and/or Roll
Howdy, folks. Here we are, once again. A beautiful Sunday in Kyle, Texas, where I'm writing this. So, what's new? Well, some movie watching, and a really fun rock show last night. I'll talk about the rock first, why not?
Last night, the Pocket FishRmen played a post-Thanksgiving extravaganza at the Lost Well, with Jefferson Trout and the Pretty Pink Knives (I must write the entire moniker) and Lazer Fire, making their debut. It's been a long time since I was at a show where I liked every other band we played with. Pretty incredible. Jefferson Trout is a bunch of the Austin old guard doing Buxf Parrot's songs, some Dicks, some Shootin' Pains songs, and others he's written over the years. Big band, too, with Brett Bradford and Todd Kassens on guitars, good ol' Jason Craig on bass, Travis Garaffa on drums, and Dotty Farrell on Dotty. Buxf wears a cape and a boa. I like capes. Many of my favorite musicians, from Yes to the Me-Thinks, have worn them. He also plays a bit of melodica, but other than these occasional accoutrements, he just sings. So much fun.
Lazer Fire is a new band, featuring the newly-returning Jimmy Bradshaw and Eric Roach on guitars, with Tom 'Burnz' Balentine on bass, and the ageless Ian Burrowes pounding the drums as if he were 22. Michelle made a comment to me that Jimmy's leaving town for New Orleans seems to be when Austin really went downhill. Maybe his return will spark an upswing. Songs like "Rock and Roll Is Fucking Stupid" and "Stick It In Your Mouth" are just what the doctor ordered for this, well, whatever this town's idea of a music scene is now. There, Grumpy has spoken!
We, the Pocket FishRmen, had a great time, although three of us (me included) were sickly. Cris said he'd thrown up twice earlier in the day. Usually, at different points in the set, he'll look at me with a rock face or something; last night, whenever he'd look at me, it was with a look of "I hope I make it through this." He did. We did well, and the crowd was definitely with us. I clammed a couple things, but nothing really noticeable. And the other guys were on fire, despite the sickitude on stage. Sometimes those can be really good shows. Sometimes.
And now for the meat of this post. We watched "The Irishman" a couple of days ago. And it did take two days; the movie is three and a half hours long. You've most likely at least heard a little bit about it. But if not....
It's the latest gangster movie from Martin Scorsese, and given the ages of the principal actors, and Scorsese himself, probably the last. The plot focuses on Frank Sheeran, an enforcer for the mob, and due to his Irish heritage revealed in the title, one who could not be "made," but still, he had some important (?) jobs. One of these, according to him, was the whacking of Jimmy Hoffa. Now, there is a lot of disagreement about what actually happened to Hoffa, and Sheeran's account, told when he was a year short of death, has been called into serious question. Google it, and you'll be there at least half a day. Who knows what really happened, but it does make for an interesting tale here.
I do not really feel qualified to review this movie, at least yet, but I can say that if you like the Scorsese structure of "Goodfellas," "Casino," and even "The Wolf of Wall Street," it's the same thing here. Same type of structure, anyway. The film takes place from the late 50s to 2003, the year Sheeran died. (The book the movie is based on was published in 2003, and Robert DeNiro's had it optioned since 2004.) The film's principals are played by DeNiro (Sheeran), Al Pacino (Hoffa), and Joe Pesci (Russell Bufalino, who assigned Sheeran most of his tasks). There are nice supporting performances from Harvey Keitel and Ray Romano (!) among others. As the older actors had to play characters decades younger than them, CG de-aging was used on their faces. At first, this is a bit of a distraction, but as the movie goes on, much less of one. What is a distraction, though, and unavoidable, is the slow way these supposedly younger characters move. Through some camera placement, most of this is carefully hidden - especially in the grocery store beating one character gets from Sheeran when he's supposed to be in his forties.
Despite these small things, I was hypnotized by the movie. Parts of it are almost humorous in its slow-moving narrative. Characters will repeat the same sentences to each other two or three times in a row. It's almost as if Scorsese and the actors are playing the audience some. It's the antithesis to these blockbuster movies of late that don't want to pause two seconds for any sort of real emotional connection to the proceedings. You can't help but think of Marty's recently-roasted comments concerning Marvel movies. Makes me chuckle.
As I mentioned, I don't feel qualified to give any sort of objective concerning the movie, as I loved every single moment of it. It's wonderful to see those folks together again, and yet the movie might be a mixed bag for folks. It is very slow moving, and even I'm not sure it need to be three and a half hours. Watching Pesci dial down his usual manic persona into a thoughtful, controlling Bufalino is mesmerizing. Pacino is, well, late Pacino for sure, but that feels right for Jimmy Hoffa. And DeNiro. This is his best work in so long. You watch it, and wonder how this man could have been in "Dirty Grandpa." Right now, I feel, in a just world, that DeNiro would win another Best Actor Academy Award, with Pesci getting the Best Supporting Actor. Right now, all the bets are on Pacino to win Best Supporting Actor. And that might happen. His work is good, but I don't feel it reaches the heights of DeNiro and Pesci. One strange thing in the movie, I thought, was the casting of Anna Paquin as the adult version of one of Sheeran's daughters. I knew about the casting, so I thought they would share some scenes during the movie, but they really don't, and I don't think Paquin has one real line of dialogue. She mostly glares at Sheeran at certain times, and it's effective...but kind of odd they didn't have verbal scenes together.
Like I said, I loved this movie so much I don't feel my thoughts on it right now should even be taken seriously, but I'm happy there have been two films released this year that have had me over the moon. This one, and "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood." I could probably watch those two back to back several times over. Jeez, that'd be over six hours for each cycle. Better rethink that.....
Last night, the Pocket FishRmen played a post-Thanksgiving extravaganza at the Lost Well, with Jefferson Trout and the Pretty Pink Knives (I must write the entire moniker) and Lazer Fire, making their debut. It's been a long time since I was at a show where I liked every other band we played with. Pretty incredible. Jefferson Trout is a bunch of the Austin old guard doing Buxf Parrot's songs, some Dicks, some Shootin' Pains songs, and others he's written over the years. Big band, too, with Brett Bradford and Todd Kassens on guitars, good ol' Jason Craig on bass, Travis Garaffa on drums, and Dotty Farrell on Dotty. Buxf wears a cape and a boa. I like capes. Many of my favorite musicians, from Yes to the Me-Thinks, have worn them. He also plays a bit of melodica, but other than these occasional accoutrements, he just sings. So much fun.
Lazer Fire is a new band, featuring the newly-returning Jimmy Bradshaw and Eric Roach on guitars, with Tom 'Burnz' Balentine on bass, and the ageless Ian Burrowes pounding the drums as if he were 22. Michelle made a comment to me that Jimmy's leaving town for New Orleans seems to be when Austin really went downhill. Maybe his return will spark an upswing. Songs like "Rock and Roll Is Fucking Stupid" and "Stick It In Your Mouth" are just what the doctor ordered for this, well, whatever this town's idea of a music scene is now. There, Grumpy has spoken!
We, the Pocket FishRmen, had a great time, although three of us (me included) were sickly. Cris said he'd thrown up twice earlier in the day. Usually, at different points in the set, he'll look at me with a rock face or something; last night, whenever he'd look at me, it was with a look of "I hope I make it through this." He did. We did well, and the crowd was definitely with us. I clammed a couple things, but nothing really noticeable. And the other guys were on fire, despite the sickitude on stage. Sometimes those can be really good shows. Sometimes.
And now for the meat of this post. We watched "The Irishman" a couple of days ago. And it did take two days; the movie is three and a half hours long. You've most likely at least heard a little bit about it. But if not....
It's the latest gangster movie from Martin Scorsese, and given the ages of the principal actors, and Scorsese himself, probably the last. The plot focuses on Frank Sheeran, an enforcer for the mob, and due to his Irish heritage revealed in the title, one who could not be "made," but still, he had some important (?) jobs. One of these, according to him, was the whacking of Jimmy Hoffa. Now, there is a lot of disagreement about what actually happened to Hoffa, and Sheeran's account, told when he was a year short of death, has been called into serious question. Google it, and you'll be there at least half a day. Who knows what really happened, but it does make for an interesting tale here.
I do not really feel qualified to review this movie, at least yet, but I can say that if you like the Scorsese structure of "Goodfellas," "Casino," and even "The Wolf of Wall Street," it's the same thing here. Same type of structure, anyway. The film takes place from the late 50s to 2003, the year Sheeran died. (The book the movie is based on was published in 2003, and Robert DeNiro's had it optioned since 2004.) The film's principals are played by DeNiro (Sheeran), Al Pacino (Hoffa), and Joe Pesci (Russell Bufalino, who assigned Sheeran most of his tasks). There are nice supporting performances from Harvey Keitel and Ray Romano (!) among others. As the older actors had to play characters decades younger than them, CG de-aging was used on their faces. At first, this is a bit of a distraction, but as the movie goes on, much less of one. What is a distraction, though, and unavoidable, is the slow way these supposedly younger characters move. Through some camera placement, most of this is carefully hidden - especially in the grocery store beating one character gets from Sheeran when he's supposed to be in his forties.
Despite these small things, I was hypnotized by the movie. Parts of it are almost humorous in its slow-moving narrative. Characters will repeat the same sentences to each other two or three times in a row. It's almost as if Scorsese and the actors are playing the audience some. It's the antithesis to these blockbuster movies of late that don't want to pause two seconds for any sort of real emotional connection to the proceedings. You can't help but think of Marty's recently-roasted comments concerning Marvel movies. Makes me chuckle.
As I mentioned, I don't feel qualified to give any sort of objective concerning the movie, as I loved every single moment of it. It's wonderful to see those folks together again, and yet the movie might be a mixed bag for folks. It is very slow moving, and even I'm not sure it need to be three and a half hours. Watching Pesci dial down his usual manic persona into a thoughtful, controlling Bufalino is mesmerizing. Pacino is, well, late Pacino for sure, but that feels right for Jimmy Hoffa. And DeNiro. This is his best work in so long. You watch it, and wonder how this man could have been in "Dirty Grandpa." Right now, I feel, in a just world, that DeNiro would win another Best Actor Academy Award, with Pesci getting the Best Supporting Actor. Right now, all the bets are on Pacino to win Best Supporting Actor. And that might happen. His work is good, but I don't feel it reaches the heights of DeNiro and Pesci. One strange thing in the movie, I thought, was the casting of Anna Paquin as the adult version of one of Sheeran's daughters. I knew about the casting, so I thought they would share some scenes during the movie, but they really don't, and I don't think Paquin has one real line of dialogue. She mostly glares at Sheeran at certain times, and it's effective...but kind of odd they didn't have verbal scenes together.
Like I said, I loved this movie so much I don't feel my thoughts on it right now should even be taken seriously, but I'm happy there have been two films released this year that have had me over the moon. This one, and "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood." I could probably watch those two back to back several times over. Jeez, that'd be over six hours for each cycle. Better rethink that.....
Sunday, November 24, 2019
"The Invitation" / "Us" / "Society"
Okay, and hey there! Let's get back to movie reviews, shall we? (I started a short story a while ago but am not fully feeling its structure right now, so....) Yesterday was a day of nothing pressing, which is good every now and then. I felt fairly sickish all day and even slept three hours in the afternoon, this after getting a full eight hours of sleep during the night. But this happens to me every November....call it November in Travis County. Michelle had wanted to take a drive to Wimberly, but I just was not up to it. So, it was a day and night on the couch, watching some flicks. And so, here we are.....
I've been listening to a lot of horror movie-related podcasts lately, and one repeat special guest on a few of them has been a director named Karyn Kusama. And I'd never seen one of her movies. So, as I was browsing Netflix (I almost never watch anything on it anymore; currently between seasons of "Ozark," "Narcos: Mexico," " and "The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina"), I came upon a movie called "The Invitation," directed by Ms. Kusama. I thought I'd give it a go. And I ended up liking it quite a bit.
The setup has a rather disheveled-looking man, driving with his wife to a party-of-sorts, hosted by his ex-wife and new man, and presented as a reunion of old friends. You find out over the course of the first 30 minutes or so that the man and his ex had a son who died, and a flashback reveals the pain they went through, particularly the ex. Of course, the place they're traveling to is pretty out of the way, and yet still near L.A., yet far enough to where there is "very little cell phone service." Ah, the hurdles modern screenwriters have to leap. After an unfortunate incident involving a coyote in getting there, the house party quickly seems odd, to say the least. And it goes from there; I don't want to say more if you haven't seen it. Other than....some remembrance of the Heaven's Gate cult from the late 90s will doubtlessly invade your senses. And that's probably saying too much. Shut up, Lance.
Upon browsing HBO, I saw that "Us" had finally made its cable debut. I'd been wanting to see this for awhile, so the timing was right for sick boy. And......well, I was....hmm., how to put this.......it was okay. Well made, of course, and obviously Jordan Peele is getting much of what he wants in a film production now, after "Get Out." But there's just something not right about the overall conceit of the story, and that's something that may be intentional...I just didn't care for it much. There's also a twist at the end that I didn't even think worked. I mean, it almost invalidated the rest of the story, I thought, although it did remind Michelle of a certain Simpsons episode involving "Hugo." That made me laugh. Still, performances are great, and being Jordan Peele, he couldn't resist throwing humor into it. One Alexa-inspired moment is so funny it takes you right out of the story for awhile, and again, I'm not sure that's a good thing....even though I typically like humor lightening the mood in horror movies. This one just felt thrown in at random, though.
I guess what I'm saying is that "Us" just feels kind of clumsy in a way that "Get Out" never does. And yes, you can't help but compare this to "Get Out;" you want to see how Peele's sophomore outing fares. And I say "not bad, but not really good, either." I can't imagine wanting to see this one again, but maybe I'll change my mind down the road.
Now, Michelle discovered Joe Bob Briggs a couple of months ago, and she and I have both been enjoying his latest shows on Shudder. So last night, we finished up by taking in one more, a viewing of the 1989 nutty movie "Society." And it's truly nutty as a fruitcake, as your grandma would say. There's a lot in it that doesn't even really make sense, and it's sloppily directed by Brian Yuzna, Stuart Gordon's longtime producing partner. I described it to Michelle pre-viewing as an 80s home-based "Eyes Wide Shut." Rich people into crazy alien sex games. The plot is completely ham-handed and yet fun. The gooey effects in the last third of the movie are pretty insane, and again, it's not even clear if the alien rich people are having sex with the poor schlub they've kidnapped or eating him, or both, or what. It's a fun one, though, and one I've seen a few times. Joe Bob's comments in breaks are hilarious as always. Still smarting over missing his Austin appearance 11 days ago.
So, last night was fun, despite my feeling like crap. I feel a bit better today, but I suspect the next few days might be more of the same. Hopefully, by Thanksgiving, I'll be peachy. Or eat peach pie. Maybe both. And maybe I'll dig more into the growing pile of unwatched movies on disc. Yep, a pile.
One more thing before I go. I'm making a distinct effort to eat less. I've been somewhat overweight (at least 20 pounds) for awhile now, and I'd like to shed that....but I am not a diet person. I'm just not. I don't think I have the discipline for it. My doctor has never said a thing to me about losing weight, probably because I stay active playing drums and such. So, I haven't worried about it much. But appearance-wise, maybe so. Running into an old friend much earlier this year, he had lost a substantial amount of weight, and when I asked him how he did it, and expecting the answer, "Keto, man!" or something like that, he just said "I eat less now." He's the first person who has lost weight I've heard say that. So, I think I'll try that and see what transpires. Just a footnote at this point, but let's see what happens. Make one restaurant meal into two, etc. Going to try to stick with that.
Bye now.
I've been listening to a lot of horror movie-related podcasts lately, and one repeat special guest on a few of them has been a director named Karyn Kusama. And I'd never seen one of her movies. So, as I was browsing Netflix (I almost never watch anything on it anymore; currently between seasons of "Ozark," "Narcos: Mexico," " and "The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina"), I came upon a movie called "The Invitation," directed by Ms. Kusama. I thought I'd give it a go. And I ended up liking it quite a bit.
The setup has a rather disheveled-looking man, driving with his wife to a party-of-sorts, hosted by his ex-wife and new man, and presented as a reunion of old friends. You find out over the course of the first 30 minutes or so that the man and his ex had a son who died, and a flashback reveals the pain they went through, particularly the ex. Of course, the place they're traveling to is pretty out of the way, and yet still near L.A., yet far enough to where there is "very little cell phone service." Ah, the hurdles modern screenwriters have to leap. After an unfortunate incident involving a coyote in getting there, the house party quickly seems odd, to say the least. And it goes from there; I don't want to say more if you haven't seen it. Other than....some remembrance of the Heaven's Gate cult from the late 90s will doubtlessly invade your senses. And that's probably saying too much. Shut up, Lance.
Upon browsing HBO, I saw that "Us" had finally made its cable debut. I'd been wanting to see this for awhile, so the timing was right for sick boy. And......well, I was....hmm., how to put this.......it was okay. Well made, of course, and obviously Jordan Peele is getting much of what he wants in a film production now, after "Get Out." But there's just something not right about the overall conceit of the story, and that's something that may be intentional...I just didn't care for it much. There's also a twist at the end that I didn't even think worked. I mean, it almost invalidated the rest of the story, I thought, although it did remind Michelle of a certain Simpsons episode involving "Hugo." That made me laugh. Still, performances are great, and being Jordan Peele, he couldn't resist throwing humor into it. One Alexa-inspired moment is so funny it takes you right out of the story for awhile, and again, I'm not sure that's a good thing....even though I typically like humor lightening the mood in horror movies. This one just felt thrown in at random, though.
I guess what I'm saying is that "Us" just feels kind of clumsy in a way that "Get Out" never does. And yes, you can't help but compare this to "Get Out;" you want to see how Peele's sophomore outing fares. And I say "not bad, but not really good, either." I can't imagine wanting to see this one again, but maybe I'll change my mind down the road.
Now, Michelle discovered Joe Bob Briggs a couple of months ago, and she and I have both been enjoying his latest shows on Shudder. So last night, we finished up by taking in one more, a viewing of the 1989 nutty movie "Society." And it's truly nutty as a fruitcake, as your grandma would say. There's a lot in it that doesn't even really make sense, and it's sloppily directed by Brian Yuzna, Stuart Gordon's longtime producing partner. I described it to Michelle pre-viewing as an 80s home-based "Eyes Wide Shut." Rich people into crazy alien sex games. The plot is completely ham-handed and yet fun. The gooey effects in the last third of the movie are pretty insane, and again, it's not even clear if the alien rich people are having sex with the poor schlub they've kidnapped or eating him, or both, or what. It's a fun one, though, and one I've seen a few times. Joe Bob's comments in breaks are hilarious as always. Still smarting over missing his Austin appearance 11 days ago.
So, last night was fun, despite my feeling like crap. I feel a bit better today, but I suspect the next few days might be more of the same. Hopefully, by Thanksgiving, I'll be peachy. Or eat peach pie. Maybe both. And maybe I'll dig more into the growing pile of unwatched movies on disc. Yep, a pile.
One more thing before I go. I'm making a distinct effort to eat less. I've been somewhat overweight (at least 20 pounds) for awhile now, and I'd like to shed that....but I am not a diet person. I'm just not. I don't think I have the discipline for it. My doctor has never said a thing to me about losing weight, probably because I stay active playing drums and such. So, I haven't worried about it much. But appearance-wise, maybe so. Running into an old friend much earlier this year, he had lost a substantial amount of weight, and when I asked him how he did it, and expecting the answer, "Keto, man!" or something like that, he just said "I eat less now." He's the first person who has lost weight I've heard say that. So, I think I'll try that and see what transpires. Just a footnote at this point, but let's see what happens. Make one restaurant meal into two, etc. Going to try to stick with that.
Bye now.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
"Boyhood"
A quick post regarding the Richard Linklater-directed movie, "Boyhood." I watched this for a second time yesterday, and I have to say this is up in my top 20, maybe of all time. And that's a personal list, not one that I'm basing on technical merit or grandiosity. I just connect to it. The tale of a young boy growing up with a mother who makes bad man choices is something that resonates with me, although the character in the movie is pretty different from me and has different surroundings. I didn't have a sister (only a stepsister I've never been close to), for instance. But jeez, does this movie speak to me. I suspect I'll watch it several times more over the years. Another movie that does this to me, for similar reasons is "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore." Maybe, if I have a spare five hours or so one day, I'll double-bill those.
That's it for today....
That's it for today....
"I Got Them Right Leg Blues, Yes I Do..."
So, I mentioned in the last post what happened at the end of the tour, concerning my right leg.
After I got back home, the pain didn't go away for awhile, and I found it hard to pick up my leg to walk. My walking anywhere resembled a teenage boy trying to hide a boner from people. At least, what I remember that being like when I was a teenager. And had boners. My knee would "click" about every seventh or eighth time I bent it, if that seems understandable. After a week or so of being back, the pain subsided, but the clicking continued. I finally went to the doctor about it; I waited for awhile, thinking that this was all due my exuberance at a Fishbone show and would subside. My doctor, who can often be one of those "look at Google" guys when trying to figure out an issue I might have, seemed pretty knowledgeable on the subject of knees. He ordered a full round of x-rays and told me later that the diagnosis was "arthritis." So, I have that in my right knee. And that's not much they can do. He did say that,at some point in my life, I'll probably need a knee replacement....not any time soon, luckily. People I know who've had those did not heal quickly.
Over time, the knee issue has gotten much, much better. I can pretty much walk normally, although if I stand somewhere for large amounts of time, I can feel it and limping starts again. So, I avoid that for the most part. Drumming hasn't really been affected much, although sometimes I beg out of "The Medley" at Hickoids shows, if the knee's stiff. When we play the "Petticoat Junction" theme, my novice train beat has the kick on 1 and 3, and it's fast. That wears my leg out quickly, especially if it's early in the set. I really need to practice that more at home, but I just don't. One day, maybe.
That's the leg report. It's much better now.
After I got back home, the pain didn't go away for awhile, and I found it hard to pick up my leg to walk. My walking anywhere resembled a teenage boy trying to hide a boner from people. At least, what I remember that being like when I was a teenager. And had boners. My knee would "click" about every seventh or eighth time I bent it, if that seems understandable. After a week or so of being back, the pain subsided, but the clicking continued. I finally went to the doctor about it; I waited for awhile, thinking that this was all due my exuberance at a Fishbone show and would subside. My doctor, who can often be one of those "look at Google" guys when trying to figure out an issue I might have, seemed pretty knowledgeable on the subject of knees. He ordered a full round of x-rays and told me later that the diagnosis was "arthritis." So, I have that in my right knee. And that's not much they can do. He did say that,at some point in my life, I'll probably need a knee replacement....not any time soon, luckily. People I know who've had those did not heal quickly.
Over time, the knee issue has gotten much, much better. I can pretty much walk normally, although if I stand somewhere for large amounts of time, I can feel it and limping starts again. So, I avoid that for the most part. Drumming hasn't really been affected much, although sometimes I beg out of "The Medley" at Hickoids shows, if the knee's stiff. When we play the "Petticoat Junction" theme, my novice train beat has the kick on 1 and 3, and it's fast. That wears my leg out quickly, especially if it's early in the set. I really need to practice that more at home, but I just don't. One day, maybe.
That's the leg report. It's much better now.
"The 'Murican Continuation" - Hickoids/HMT Tour
After getting home from Spain, and about one day's rest (maybe), we had to hop in the van and head to the final shows of this tour. We were playing the Muddy Roots festival in eastern Tennessee and had several shows en route, as well as one during the return. Jeff had funeral arrangements for his brother to attend to, which left us with the conclusion we'd have to play Houston without Jeff. He would fly into New Orleans for the following night's show.
So Patrick had responsibility for driving the van up from San Antonio, picking us all up, and heading to Houston. It was an odd experience not having Jeff around; everyone was, dare I say, not as well-behaved. There was plenty of grumbling from a certain member for not having picked him up last and taking 290 to Houston (we still had to pick up Cody in far southeast Austin before heading to Houston). It was sort of a six-of-one situation....I think Patrick chose the better method. Taking 290 to Houston can be rough, going through all the small towns, etc. But I digress....
The Houston show was at a bar/restaurant called Under the Volcano, and being a Wednesday night and a rainy one at that, there wasn't much of an audience. Some friends, and that was about it. We were playing with Dinola, and since they'd been promoting the show, Jeff hadn't wanted to cancel, even with his absence. What this meant was a sort-of karaoke show, with folks filling in vocals the best they could. David Ganz, being the unafraid sort he is, jumped in first and performed a hilarious take on "Hee Haw" and "Corntaminated." Eventually, the mic went to Sue Ford from Dinola, and she knocked it out of the park with "Bennie and the Jets." We finished with Patrick (Harvey) doing "Burnin' Luv." It was a lot of fun, despite the small crowd and of course, the nagging reason why Jeff couldn't be here.
That night, we stayed in eastern Houston to prepare for the journey to New Orleans. Once we got into New Orleans, we split into our factions for the night. I ended up in my own room at Hotel St. Marie, which is a place Michelle and I have stayed numerous times in NOLA. I walked over to d.b.a., where we were playing, and met up with the rest of the band unloading gear, etc. I decided to use the house kit with a couple of add-ons. All went fine; again, a smallish crowd, although the weather was better than Houston's. I should have mentioned the Harvey McLaughlin Trio was opening all these shows, and it was good to play consistently again.
On to Memphis, all of us, finally. I forget where we stayed there, but we were playing at a cool restaurant/bar, called the Rock n Roll Cafe, a place we'd eaten at during our last visit. Unfortunately, there was not really a crowd at all....but some people towards the back seemed to be enjoying the whole thing and even bought merch. So, in a weird way, I felt like we were 0 for 3 this trip so far. (Others did not feel that way and thought NOLA was good. Maybe it was.)
Next up, heading to Cookeville and the nearby Muddy Roots Festival. We were staying Saturday night but were going to have to leave really early to make Denton on Labor Day. So we went to the festival to catch Black Eyed Vermillion on Saturday and made it just in time. Gotta say, the festival was run really well, and I had a really enjoyable time. We bailed a little early Saturday (it was stiflingly hot), so we didn't see any of the marquee acts that night. But it was nice to get some rest and be ready for Sunday.
Sunday's set went great. I was fairly pumped after seeing Black Irish Texas get through "Blue Rondo a la Turk," a truly spirited performance. And fitting, as Michelle had just gotten to Turkey before they played that. Our set went fine and was fairly well received for us not being a regular at this festival. This is one festival I wouldn't mind returning to. Now, for the bad part....
Immediately after we finished, Fishbone began playing directly behind us. As I was using a backline kit, I hurried my cymbals, etc. to the van and positioned myself to enjoy those guys. I guess I must have bounced for an hour during their set (which was fraught with problems; they soldiered through). I felt great afterwards, and after some milling around, we headed back to the hotel room to get a little sleep before heading out to Denton (about 4 am!).
After my alarm went off, I got out of bed and was immediately in screaming leg pain. Yes, that leg. I guess the bouncing at Fishbone had really done a number on my right knee. I could barely walk. It was bad. I took some ibuprofen in the hopes that the swelling would subside, and it did nothing. The first few stops toward Denton were struggles to even get to the rest room, and frankly, most of the guys in the band who weren't named Jeff were avoiding me as well. Little help, please? Before we got to Denton, Jeff announced in the van that everyone was going to have to get my gear to the stage there....and they did. They listen to him. The leg was a little stiff for the show that night, but I was able to soldier through everything. Again, everybody helped me pack and move the gear to the van. Tom especially. The Denton crowd was pretty nonexistent, but I expected that. Rice had even suggested earlier that we drop the gig and head home, due to my leg, but I'm glad we played it. I'm kind of proud of being able to do it.
That's enough about this tour. We made it the rest of the way home fine. I want to write about other things, but this has been nagging at me to finish, and I should have done it earlier. More next time. And I bet I edit the previous post a few times over the next year!
So Patrick had responsibility for driving the van up from San Antonio, picking us all up, and heading to Houston. It was an odd experience not having Jeff around; everyone was, dare I say, not as well-behaved. There was plenty of grumbling from a certain member for not having picked him up last and taking 290 to Houston (we still had to pick up Cody in far southeast Austin before heading to Houston). It was sort of a six-of-one situation....I think Patrick chose the better method. Taking 290 to Houston can be rough, going through all the small towns, etc. But I digress....
The Houston show was at a bar/restaurant called Under the Volcano, and being a Wednesday night and a rainy one at that, there wasn't much of an audience. Some friends, and that was about it. We were playing with Dinola, and since they'd been promoting the show, Jeff hadn't wanted to cancel, even with his absence. What this meant was a sort-of karaoke show, with folks filling in vocals the best they could. David Ganz, being the unafraid sort he is, jumped in first and performed a hilarious take on "Hee Haw" and "Corntaminated." Eventually, the mic went to Sue Ford from Dinola, and she knocked it out of the park with "Bennie and the Jets." We finished with Patrick (Harvey) doing "Burnin' Luv." It was a lot of fun, despite the small crowd and of course, the nagging reason why Jeff couldn't be here.
That night, we stayed in eastern Houston to prepare for the journey to New Orleans. Once we got into New Orleans, we split into our factions for the night. I ended up in my own room at Hotel St. Marie, which is a place Michelle and I have stayed numerous times in NOLA. I walked over to d.b.a., where we were playing, and met up with the rest of the band unloading gear, etc. I decided to use the house kit with a couple of add-ons. All went fine; again, a smallish crowd, although the weather was better than Houston's. I should have mentioned the Harvey McLaughlin Trio was opening all these shows, and it was good to play consistently again.
On to Memphis, all of us, finally. I forget where we stayed there, but we were playing at a cool restaurant/bar, called the Rock n Roll Cafe, a place we'd eaten at during our last visit. Unfortunately, there was not really a crowd at all....but some people towards the back seemed to be enjoying the whole thing and even bought merch. So, in a weird way, I felt like we were 0 for 3 this trip so far. (Others did not feel that way and thought NOLA was good. Maybe it was.)
Next up, heading to Cookeville and the nearby Muddy Roots Festival. We were staying Saturday night but were going to have to leave really early to make Denton on Labor Day. So we went to the festival to catch Black Eyed Vermillion on Saturday and made it just in time. Gotta say, the festival was run really well, and I had a really enjoyable time. We bailed a little early Saturday (it was stiflingly hot), so we didn't see any of the marquee acts that night. But it was nice to get some rest and be ready for Sunday.
Sunday's set went great. I was fairly pumped after seeing Black Irish Texas get through "Blue Rondo a la Turk," a truly spirited performance. And fitting, as Michelle had just gotten to Turkey before they played that. Our set went fine and was fairly well received for us not being a regular at this festival. This is one festival I wouldn't mind returning to. Now, for the bad part....
Immediately after we finished, Fishbone began playing directly behind us. As I was using a backline kit, I hurried my cymbals, etc. to the van and positioned myself to enjoy those guys. I guess I must have bounced for an hour during their set (which was fraught with problems; they soldiered through). I felt great afterwards, and after some milling around, we headed back to the hotel room to get a little sleep before heading out to Denton (about 4 am!).
After my alarm went off, I got out of bed and was immediately in screaming leg pain. Yes, that leg. I guess the bouncing at Fishbone had really done a number on my right knee. I could barely walk. It was bad. I took some ibuprofen in the hopes that the swelling would subside, and it did nothing. The first few stops toward Denton were struggles to even get to the rest room, and frankly, most of the guys in the band who weren't named Jeff were avoiding me as well. Little help, please? Before we got to Denton, Jeff announced in the van that everyone was going to have to get my gear to the stage there....and they did. They listen to him. The leg was a little stiff for the show that night, but I was able to soldier through everything. Again, everybody helped me pack and move the gear to the van. Tom especially. The Denton crowd was pretty nonexistent, but I expected that. Rice had even suggested earlier that we drop the gig and head home, due to my leg, but I'm glad we played it. I'm kind of proud of being able to do it.
That's enough about this tour. We made it the rest of the way home fine. I want to write about other things, but this has been nagging at me to finish, and I should have done it earlier. More next time. And I bet I edit the previous post a few times over the next year!
Monday, November 11, 2019
Rest of the Hickoids/HMT Tour? Um, Okay.
Well, it's time, right? Not that I've really had writer's block or anything, but I'm finding I've had less inspiration to sit in front of the keyboard and write. Not sure why, but I need to finish up a recap of this recent (but becoming more blurry) Hickoids tour. I left off with us going from Toulouse to Grasse.....so let's start there.
In Grasse, we stayed in an area we stayed in in 2014, in a house we stayed in then. In 2014, the house was a former biker clubhouse (I forget the troop's name), and we stayed there a couple of nights while driving to shows in Toulon and Marseilles. This time, we were staying there a couple of nights while we played our one French show proper, in Marseilles. Most of the guys were going to rehearse songs to be recorded in Barcelona, but I, playing the lowly drums, was not invited to that. But hey, that just meant Phil Amar and his girlfriend took Flo and me to a lake near Grasse, and we had a great time. But I'm getting ahead of myself....
The Friday night show in Marseilles was, without a doubt, the hottest show I've ever played, temperature-wise. The previous record for me was held by some Honky shows with L7 in the upper Midwest in August....particularly Iowa City. This was unbelievably hot/humid, in the basement of a club called La Salle Gueule. Yes, it was one of those where you had to schlep equipment down some treacherous steps, but I've dealt with worse. There were two other bands on the bill, the first one being a Russian band whose name escapes me, and the second being a long-term punk band, somewhat famous in the area, whose name also escapes me (it's been awhile). I don't know how I held onto my drumsticks throughout the gig, but I did. And I didn't pass out, but I thought Rice was going to at the end. He looked dazed, took his bass off during my often-used "New Day Rising" beat outro and just left. I was worried about him! Turns out he was fine. Most people, including our intrepid host Phil, could not make it through the entire show, but our friends Ray and Sandrine did!
So, that was the Marseilles show. Not the nicest folks at the club, either, for whatever reason. I was told to put my shirt on not long after playing, so I was a sopping mess for the rest of the night. We stayed in a hotel within walking distance of the club, so I headed over there before too long. I was rooming with Rice and Patrick, and we dubbed it the "prison hotel." Everything was functional, but I've never been in a starker, barer hotel room. Two beds, a hanging TV, and one small table, and that was it. No complaints from me, though; as I said, everything worked.
The next day was the lake trip, after some grocery shopping (that might have been Friday), and we had a wonderful dinner at Phil's place....where I tried escargot for the first time, and liked it! The day had started out crappy, as we got the news that Chad Holt had passed on. I don't remember much about Sunday......we had another dinner at Phil's, though. More escargot! And then, it was off to Barcelona......back to Spain.
In Barcelona, we were recording in Mike Mariconda's studio, but we were staying outside Barcelona, close to Badalona. So, we had about a half-hour drive everyday to and from the studio. Not bad, though, and I did like our rooms. The studio experience was okay; I had never recorded with Mike before, and had only met him briefly back in the REF days of 1999. It was an enjoyable experience, though, although I suspect not much can be done with a lot of what we recorded. Getting the Canadian Medley down was a definite highlight, and we finally laid down two songs we've worked on since 2015. The other new stuff needs time to gestate and sounds really flat to me in these performances. Time will improve that, if we ever get to it. Hell, a lot of those dynamics are up to me to drive, I know. We just didn't prep to record, simple as that.
After those three nights, we headed to Madrid on Thursday the 22nd. During the trip to Madrid, Jeff received the awful news that his brother Barry was probably not going to make the night. After that, the band didn't all know what was going on at the same time. I was under the impression Barry was still hanging in there (and thinking Jeff might have to bail and fly home), when I was informed that Barry did indeed pass earlier in the day. Jeff made the painful decision to finish the tour, as really, there wasn't much he could do. So, we played Madrid that night and continued on.
In Madrid, we stayed in a nice apartment that housed all of us easily and had two bathrooms! On Friday, we headed to Aracena, a small town to the west, almost to Portugal, and that was the shot in the arm everyone needed. What a fun show....wow. There was a huge festival going on in the town, but that didn't stop what seemed like half the town being crammed into this small club to watch us rock. It was something. If you're on Facebook, you can watch the link below....
Hickoids in Aracena
Great hostesses in Aracena, too. We had a wonderful breakfast the next day, and then it was off to Jimera de Libar for our final show in Spain. And this turned out to be a weird one. The HMTrio played first, and we had our usual fun set. Afterward, as the other guys were getting set up, I pulled my mic stand and mic to me and saw another mic stand in front of me. I assumed that was Rice's. We played our first couple of songs, and then I realized Rice didn't have a mic. I offered him my mic, but he declined. So, it was going to be a two singer performance, and Smitty had already told me he thought his voice was about to go out. I thought I'd better participate more. So, I sang more backup than usual, sometimes covering Rice's parts (something I have experience with, as he's missed three tours). After the gig, I noticed something weird with Rice; he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me....I had obviously upset him somehow. And this went on for a few days. Rice didn't look or talk to me until we were back in the States. To this day, I don't know what he was mad at.
We headed back to Madrid the next day, having the night off but prepping to fly back the next day. We stayed in the exact same apartment we'd stayed in on Thursday night. Rice moved out of my room and into Patrick's room, so I had "a night with Cody." With ear plugs, that's not really a bad thing.
And we flew home the next day, after a heartfelt goodbye to our rental van and fantastic tour MVP, Flover!
I'll write about the "'Murican Continuation" in the next post.....
In Grasse, we stayed in an area we stayed in in 2014, in a house we stayed in then. In 2014, the house was a former biker clubhouse (I forget the troop's name), and we stayed there a couple of nights while driving to shows in Toulon and Marseilles. This time, we were staying there a couple of nights while we played our one French show proper, in Marseilles. Most of the guys were going to rehearse songs to be recorded in Barcelona, but I, playing the lowly drums, was not invited to that. But hey, that just meant Phil Amar and his girlfriend took Flo and me to a lake near Grasse, and we had a great time. But I'm getting ahead of myself....
The Friday night show in Marseilles was, without a doubt, the hottest show I've ever played, temperature-wise. The previous record for me was held by some Honky shows with L7 in the upper Midwest in August....particularly Iowa City. This was unbelievably hot/humid, in the basement of a club called La Salle Gueule. Yes, it was one of those where you had to schlep equipment down some treacherous steps, but I've dealt with worse. There were two other bands on the bill, the first one being a Russian band whose name escapes me, and the second being a long-term punk band, somewhat famous in the area, whose name also escapes me (it's been awhile). I don't know how I held onto my drumsticks throughout the gig, but I did. And I didn't pass out, but I thought Rice was going to at the end. He looked dazed, took his bass off during my often-used "New Day Rising" beat outro and just left. I was worried about him! Turns out he was fine. Most people, including our intrepid host Phil, could not make it through the entire show, but our friends Ray and Sandrine did!
So, that was the Marseilles show. Not the nicest folks at the club, either, for whatever reason. I was told to put my shirt on not long after playing, so I was a sopping mess for the rest of the night. We stayed in a hotel within walking distance of the club, so I headed over there before too long. I was rooming with Rice and Patrick, and we dubbed it the "prison hotel." Everything was functional, but I've never been in a starker, barer hotel room. Two beds, a hanging TV, and one small table, and that was it. No complaints from me, though; as I said, everything worked.
The next day was the lake trip, after some grocery shopping (that might have been Friday), and we had a wonderful dinner at Phil's place....where I tried escargot for the first time, and liked it! The day had started out crappy, as we got the news that Chad Holt had passed on. I don't remember much about Sunday......we had another dinner at Phil's, though. More escargot! And then, it was off to Barcelona......back to Spain.
In Barcelona, we were recording in Mike Mariconda's studio, but we were staying outside Barcelona, close to Badalona. So, we had about a half-hour drive everyday to and from the studio. Not bad, though, and I did like our rooms. The studio experience was okay; I had never recorded with Mike before, and had only met him briefly back in the REF days of 1999. It was an enjoyable experience, though, although I suspect not much can be done with a lot of what we recorded. Getting the Canadian Medley down was a definite highlight, and we finally laid down two songs we've worked on since 2015. The other new stuff needs time to gestate and sounds really flat to me in these performances. Time will improve that, if we ever get to it. Hell, a lot of those dynamics are up to me to drive, I know. We just didn't prep to record, simple as that.
After those three nights, we headed to Madrid on Thursday the 22nd. During the trip to Madrid, Jeff received the awful news that his brother Barry was probably not going to make the night. After that, the band didn't all know what was going on at the same time. I was under the impression Barry was still hanging in there (and thinking Jeff might have to bail and fly home), when I was informed that Barry did indeed pass earlier in the day. Jeff made the painful decision to finish the tour, as really, there wasn't much he could do. So, we played Madrid that night and continued on.
In Madrid, we stayed in a nice apartment that housed all of us easily and had two bathrooms! On Friday, we headed to Aracena, a small town to the west, almost to Portugal, and that was the shot in the arm everyone needed. What a fun show....wow. There was a huge festival going on in the town, but that didn't stop what seemed like half the town being crammed into this small club to watch us rock. It was something. If you're on Facebook, you can watch the link below....
Hickoids in Aracena
Great hostesses in Aracena, too. We had a wonderful breakfast the next day, and then it was off to Jimera de Libar for our final show in Spain. And this turned out to be a weird one. The HMTrio played first, and we had our usual fun set. Afterward, as the other guys were getting set up, I pulled my mic stand and mic to me and saw another mic stand in front of me. I assumed that was Rice's. We played our first couple of songs, and then I realized Rice didn't have a mic. I offered him my mic, but he declined. So, it was going to be a two singer performance, and Smitty had already told me he thought his voice was about to go out. I thought I'd better participate more. So, I sang more backup than usual, sometimes covering Rice's parts (something I have experience with, as he's missed three tours). After the gig, I noticed something weird with Rice; he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me....I had obviously upset him somehow. And this went on for a few days. Rice didn't look or talk to me until we were back in the States. To this day, I don't know what he was mad at.
We headed back to Madrid the next day, having the night off but prepping to fly back the next day. We stayed in the exact same apartment we'd stayed in on Thursday night. Rice moved out of my room and into Patrick's room, so I had "a night with Cody." With ear plugs, that's not really a bad thing.
And we flew home the next day, after a heartfelt goodbye to our rental van and fantastic tour MVP, Flover!
I'll write about the "'Murican Continuation" in the next post.....
Sunday, November 3, 2019
And Now For Something Completely Different
For today's sermon, something different.....not that I'm getting tired about writing of tour goings-on, but I'm doing that based on memory. It's been, what....almost three months now? Should have finished writing about the tour a while back, but...I just didn't. Not that I've had writer's block or anything, I just didn't get to it. Waaah.
Life has been much the same since getting back from the tour....working, playing, etc. Michelle was in Turkey when I got back from the tour, and she went to Egypt for a third time, returning last Monday night. So, I've had a fair amount of time to myself, which has been nice, and somewhat reflective. I always miss her, but it's good for me to have time to....ponder, cogitate, etc. Not that I had any major epiphanies, but I do feel somewhat recharged in the old mental world. Which is good, as the physical body feels worse by the week. At least, my right leg does. Some days I wonder if I'm going to make it through this lifetime upright. Probably a silly thought, but some days, my right leg kills me. So far, it really hasn't affected any drumming, so I have no major complaints. Maybe I need to get into yoga. I find dreading any shows where loading equipment is going to be difficult, or I won't have any help for. Independent music making is not for the middle aged and up. For certain. I often joke to people that I made a mistake in not becoming famous. That would have fixed everything; I'd have roadies and sycophants-a-plenty to do my bidding. Ah, that would be nice.
But I'll keep going. I have no idea what else I'd do with my life at this point. I do enjoy writing, but I find it hard to keep any sort of discipline going....writing every morning, for instance. Maybe if I had more of a set schedule outside of work, I might be able to motivate myself to get in front of the writing tool daily. If I were to become immobile in some way, I suppose that would do it, too. But I want to stay mobile.
I knew this would be a rambling post.
One of the main focuses of my life is my now 90-year-old mother. She lives in San Angelo and has always been chronically self-sufficient and kept her distance from me in adulthood. Twice in recent years, she has moved closer to where I live (early 2000 to San Marcos, and late 2014 to Kyle), only to return to San Angelo within six months of arrival. She's always been the controlling sort, and as she can't control my adult life, becomes frustrated quickly and returns to San Angelo. She has been living in the Baptist Memorial senior center since mid-2015, and really, from what I've seen in my research, has a pretty good deal going.....it's just a pity she isn't closer to where I live. She's been making noise lately about wanting to be closer to me, and I'm beginning to research possibilities again, but I'm understandably wary of it all again. But she is 90. She's in good health for 90, but I have noticed more mental lapses lately. And really, I have to confess, she's not easy to deal with, and I'm tired of the several times a year trip to San Angelo. So, there's that. Maybe I'll find someplace closer to the Austin area that would be both affordable and something she might actually like, but I think the likelihood of that is slim. On top of everything else, she has decided she doesn't care for Michelle, which does not help matters at all. Her reasons for this are not even rational, but I think it's another way she uses to manipulate the situation, as it were. As rough as it may sound to write it, someday it'll all be over. But in the meantime, it's on my mind almost constantly.
So, let's turn to a fun subject, work. Before leaving for the August tour, I accepted a promotion at my day gig, and the new responsibilities began after I returned. It's been a strange ride so far, but right now, I think it's okay. It's not really okay, as we have so much turnover in our department right now that everything is in disarray and large parts of course material aren't even going to be updated, but so be it. I was very frustrated the first two weeks I was back on the job, but now? I just got to a point of....well, what can I do? Only what I can do, that's it. And that brought a certain zen-like peace that hasn't wavered. And that's kind of nice. 'sall I have to report on that front.
In funner (sic) news, I'm thinking about picking up a new snare drum from a drumming buddy who works for a company called Hendrix Drums. He's offered me a sponsorship, which means a heavy discount on equipment in exchange for using my name to advertise their drum line. Not bad, really. Now I'm certainly not famous (see above), but some regional folks know of me, so I might just sign up. Why not? Ain't getting any younger (also see above). As a matter of fact, I might put those wheels in motion this week. I was brought a snare drum to try out for a Pocket FishRmen gig a couple of weeks ago, and I did like the feel and sound of the drum a lot....and I didn't even tune it up much. Tightened it a little and went to whackin'. Yep, I liked the sound.
And the Astros lost the World Series. To be frank, that was a shock. Things looked bleak in the beginning when they lost the first two games at home, but after winning the next three in Washington, I thought they had the momentum back and could win at least one of the next two. I was wrong, and how. Most of Houston is probably still in shock. Already looking forward to next year.
What else? I don't know, not much, probably. Just had some things I wanted to write about to get off the ol' chest and such. That's it.
Life has been much the same since getting back from the tour....working, playing, etc. Michelle was in Turkey when I got back from the tour, and she went to Egypt for a third time, returning last Monday night. So, I've had a fair amount of time to myself, which has been nice, and somewhat reflective. I always miss her, but it's good for me to have time to....ponder, cogitate, etc. Not that I had any major epiphanies, but I do feel somewhat recharged in the old mental world. Which is good, as the physical body feels worse by the week. At least, my right leg does. Some days I wonder if I'm going to make it through this lifetime upright. Probably a silly thought, but some days, my right leg kills me. So far, it really hasn't affected any drumming, so I have no major complaints. Maybe I need to get into yoga. I find dreading any shows where loading equipment is going to be difficult, or I won't have any help for. Independent music making is not for the middle aged and up. For certain. I often joke to people that I made a mistake in not becoming famous. That would have fixed everything; I'd have roadies and sycophants-a-plenty to do my bidding. Ah, that would be nice.
But I'll keep going. I have no idea what else I'd do with my life at this point. I do enjoy writing, but I find it hard to keep any sort of discipline going....writing every morning, for instance. Maybe if I had more of a set schedule outside of work, I might be able to motivate myself to get in front of the writing tool daily. If I were to become immobile in some way, I suppose that would do it, too. But I want to stay mobile.
I knew this would be a rambling post.
One of the main focuses of my life is my now 90-year-old mother. She lives in San Angelo and has always been chronically self-sufficient and kept her distance from me in adulthood. Twice in recent years, she has moved closer to where I live (early 2000 to San Marcos, and late 2014 to Kyle), only to return to San Angelo within six months of arrival. She's always been the controlling sort, and as she can't control my adult life, becomes frustrated quickly and returns to San Angelo. She has been living in the Baptist Memorial senior center since mid-2015, and really, from what I've seen in my research, has a pretty good deal going.....it's just a pity she isn't closer to where I live. She's been making noise lately about wanting to be closer to me, and I'm beginning to research possibilities again, but I'm understandably wary of it all again. But she is 90. She's in good health for 90, but I have noticed more mental lapses lately. And really, I have to confess, she's not easy to deal with, and I'm tired of the several times a year trip to San Angelo. So, there's that. Maybe I'll find someplace closer to the Austin area that would be both affordable and something she might actually like, but I think the likelihood of that is slim. On top of everything else, she has decided she doesn't care for Michelle, which does not help matters at all. Her reasons for this are not even rational, but I think it's another way she uses to manipulate the situation, as it were. As rough as it may sound to write it, someday it'll all be over. But in the meantime, it's on my mind almost constantly.
So, let's turn to a fun subject, work. Before leaving for the August tour, I accepted a promotion at my day gig, and the new responsibilities began after I returned. It's been a strange ride so far, but right now, I think it's okay. It's not really okay, as we have so much turnover in our department right now that everything is in disarray and large parts of course material aren't even going to be updated, but so be it. I was very frustrated the first two weeks I was back on the job, but now? I just got to a point of....well, what can I do? Only what I can do, that's it. And that brought a certain zen-like peace that hasn't wavered. And that's kind of nice. 'sall I have to report on that front.
In funner (sic) news, I'm thinking about picking up a new snare drum from a drumming buddy who works for a company called Hendrix Drums. He's offered me a sponsorship, which means a heavy discount on equipment in exchange for using my name to advertise their drum line. Not bad, really. Now I'm certainly not famous (see above), but some regional folks know of me, so I might just sign up. Why not? Ain't getting any younger (also see above). As a matter of fact, I might put those wheels in motion this week. I was brought a snare drum to try out for a Pocket FishRmen gig a couple of weeks ago, and I did like the feel and sound of the drum a lot....and I didn't even tune it up much. Tightened it a little and went to whackin'. Yep, I liked the sound.
And the Astros lost the World Series. To be frank, that was a shock. Things looked bleak in the beginning when they lost the first two games at home, but after winning the next three in Washington, I thought they had the momentum back and could win at least one of the next two. I was wrong, and how. Most of Houston is probably still in shock. Already looking forward to next year.
What else? I don't know, not much, probably. Just had some things I wanted to write about to get off the ol' chest and such. That's it.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Thursday, August 15
Off to France!
One nice side effect of Jeff's misreading of the vacation rental's location was that we already had a head start to get to Toulouse in France. This came in handy. We started out relatively early, and the trip didn't seem that long. Once we were in France, the first thing I noticed was that the prices of everything in gas stations/convenience stores pretty much doubled. Spain is pretty ridiculously cheap, for Europe.
We were going to Toulouse, where we originally thought we might have a gig, but things didn't work out. Our friend Misty White lives there, and she hooked us up with a radio interview, which would allow us to play a few songs. I use the term "us" loosely, as this being an acoustic gig, it really didn't include me....well, maybe vocally a bit....but I did beat on things in the radio room. It was rather fun, though, and I tried not to destroy anything. At one point, somehow, I knocked a light bulb out of its lamp holder. Still not sure how that happened, but that was as destructive as I got. I sheepishly screwed the light bulb back in, as a good boy does when he's 57. My personal highlight was whispering "appelle," in the final break of "Driftwood." I'm almost as clever as Cody.
Before the radio gig, Misty shepherded us to a great restaurant. After all the bland Spanish food, I was ready for something more French. So, I had pizza.
We stayed in perhaps the nicest hotel of the entire tour that night. Not sure how we got that....well, I do, actually. Jeff booked it.
That's all I have to report about Toulouse. Le jour prochain, Grasse.
One nice side effect of Jeff's misreading of the vacation rental's location was that we already had a head start to get to Toulouse in France. This came in handy. We started out relatively early, and the trip didn't seem that long. Once we were in France, the first thing I noticed was that the prices of everything in gas stations/convenience stores pretty much doubled. Spain is pretty ridiculously cheap, for Europe.
We were going to Toulouse, where we originally thought we might have a gig, but things didn't work out. Our friend Misty White lives there, and she hooked us up with a radio interview, which would allow us to play a few songs. I use the term "us" loosely, as this being an acoustic gig, it really didn't include me....well, maybe vocally a bit....but I did beat on things in the radio room. It was rather fun, though, and I tried not to destroy anything. At one point, somehow, I knocked a light bulb out of its lamp holder. Still not sure how that happened, but that was as destructive as I got. I sheepishly screwed the light bulb back in, as a good boy does when he's 57. My personal highlight was whispering "appelle," in the final break of "Driftwood." I'm almost as clever as Cody.
Before the radio gig, Misty shepherded us to a great restaurant. After all the bland Spanish food, I was ready for something more French. So, I had pizza.
We stayed in perhaps the nicest hotel of the entire tour that night. Not sure how we got that....well, I do, actually. Jeff booked it.
That's all I have to report about Toulouse. Le jour prochain, Grasse.
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Wednesday, August 14
The next day, Bilbao. Bilbao is also near the northern coast of Spain, maybe a little more inland than Santander, and to the east of that town. So, off we headed. Unfortunately, Jeff had misread an address where the vacation rental was booked for this night, and it turned out to be a bit over an hour east of Bilbao. Now, I'm a bit fuzzy as to what came first, if we went to the vacation rental and then drove back to Bilbao to do laundry and play, or if we did laundry, headed to the vacation rental, and then back to Bilbao to play, or what. One of these things happened.
At least, we had two vacation rental rooms this time, although the woman working the desk when we checked in was, I would say, "softly threatening" to us. She picked up on us a being a band right away. Flo did most of the talking with her, and she used the word "molestar" a lot, as in "they better not bother people at our quaint vacation rental." After staying at a few of these vacation rentals now, I can say that bands are generally not welcome at them, but the price is usually right. (I didn't write about the 2016 Euro-tour, and the funny goings-on at our Noordwijk vacation rental in the Netherlands. Our German tourist neighbors were not fond of us.)
So, in the midst of our Bilbaoing, we did laundry at a laundromat where the signs were in both Spanish and Basque. I'd been told Basque is similar to French, but I didn't see that at all. Good thing Spanish was around in most places. This sign might have both....I'm not sure.
While we were doing laundry, Tom found a tapas place that he really liked, but I suspect that had more to do with the cute barmaid than the food itself. (I was quickly souring on Spanish food.) Nevertheless, we had clean clothes some time later and could prepare for the night's rockin'.
The club was called Shake!, and if I remember correctly, this was another one closed for August that opened for them Hickoids. Not bad. I liked this one a lot, although the stage had a missing portion to the left of the drums that the show runner filled in crudely with a table. It worked.
Special guests at this show included some of Rice's British family - his cousin, her husband, and their two grown kids. It was nice to visit with them, and the husband was pretty humorous, and a drummer to boot! He did fall a bit on the racist end of the spectrum, interspersing comments to me about drum brands with anecdotes about what cowards the French are (I guess that stereotype will never fade away). According to Rice, he's a big Brexit fan, so I suppose the package is complete. It was rather funny to hear Rice apologize about him later; I thought he was kind of funny, and he had a wandering eye, which just added to the whole effect.
We had the long drive back to the vacation rental, and Cody was in full effect this night. By the time we got there, his inside voice was completely gone. He had to be reminded not to "molestar" people as we walked to our rooms.
At least, we had two vacation rental rooms this time, although the woman working the desk when we checked in was, I would say, "softly threatening" to us. She picked up on us a being a band right away. Flo did most of the talking with her, and she used the word "molestar" a lot, as in "they better not bother people at our quaint vacation rental." After staying at a few of these vacation rentals now, I can say that bands are generally not welcome at them, but the price is usually right. (I didn't write about the 2016 Euro-tour, and the funny goings-on at our Noordwijk vacation rental in the Netherlands. Our German tourist neighbors were not fond of us.)
So, in the midst of our Bilbaoing, we did laundry at a laundromat where the signs were in both Spanish and Basque. I'd been told Basque is similar to French, but I didn't see that at all. Good thing Spanish was around in most places. This sign might have both....I'm not sure.
The club was called Shake!, and if I remember correctly, this was another one closed for August that opened for them Hickoids. Not bad. I liked this one a lot, although the stage had a missing portion to the left of the drums that the show runner filled in crudely with a table. It worked.
Special guests at this show included some of Rice's British family - his cousin, her husband, and their two grown kids. It was nice to visit with them, and the husband was pretty humorous, and a drummer to boot! He did fall a bit on the racist end of the spectrum, interspersing comments to me about drum brands with anecdotes about what cowards the French are (I guess that stereotype will never fade away). According to Rice, he's a big Brexit fan, so I suppose the package is complete. It was rather funny to hear Rice apologize about him later; I thought he was kind of funny, and he had a wandering eye, which just added to the whole effect.
We had the long drive back to the vacation rental, and Cody was in full effect this night. By the time we got there, his inside voice was completely gone. He had to be reminded not to "molestar" people as we walked to our rooms.
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Tuesday, August 13
And so, the parting happened. Michelle had wanted to spend some time in Madrid, going to museums and whatnot. She had a couple of nights reserved at a Madrid hotel near the Prado museum, and we needed to get her to the train station and headed that way. Flover was a huge help in this endeavor, talking an anxious Michelle in what to do, steps to take, etc. Once she got there, of course, everything was fine, and her hotel was near everything she wanted to do.
We headed on to Santander, which was the next stop on the Spanish Road. Santander is on the northern coast of Spain, in Basque country, and has a beach feel to it, for sure. We were staying at a vacation rental place a substantial walk from the beach. And we were all in one room. But this wasn't as bad as I'd feared, all seven of us in one place. A couple of folks slept in the van that night, and I confess to it being the only night I did not shower while on tour. But I'm getting ahead of things....
The show in Santander was at a place called Rock-Beer TheNew (sic).
As with many places in Spain in August, it had been closed for a couple of weeks but opened for our gig. And it turned out they had used the closure time to rebuild their stage and revamp their sound system. The stage was almost ready when we got there, and a little more work cemented its readiness. The sound system was another story. It had a long way to go, and unfortunately, after we were on stage and ready to go, it still had a way to go. Seriously, we were on stage about 45 minutes before we could actually start the show proper. It got pretty funny to me after awhile, but once we got cranking, we were fine. I felt bad for the club staff and the owner (whose name escapes me, but he was a great guy); they were trying any and every thing they could to get things going. It all worked out fine. I thought the gig went well, although memories are short on this one, for some reason....other than the long wait at the beginning.
Back to the vacation rental. Somehow, despite the aforementioned cramming of us all into one rental, I had a room to myself. Still not sure how that happened. I think the others think I need my space, due to the CPAP machine. That's really not true; I just need room for the machine, and an electrical outlet, and that's about it.
We headed on to Santander, which was the next stop on the Spanish Road. Santander is on the northern coast of Spain, in Basque country, and has a beach feel to it, for sure. We were staying at a vacation rental place a substantial walk from the beach. And we were all in one room. But this wasn't as bad as I'd feared, all seven of us in one place. A couple of folks slept in the van that night, and I confess to it being the only night I did not shower while on tour. But I'm getting ahead of things....
The show in Santander was at a place called Rock-Beer TheNew (sic).
Back to the vacation rental. Somehow, despite the aforementioned cramming of us all into one rental, I had a room to myself. Still not sure how that happened. I think the others think I need my space, due to the CPAP machine. That's really not true; I just need room for the machine, and an electrical outlet, and that's about it.
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Monday, August 12
Up. At. The. Crack. Of. Dawn. We had a long hustle this day. First, we had to drive back to Madrid...about six hours. Then we had to pick up the van, equipment, and driver. Then all of us would hustle to Zaragoza and play there that night. Was going to be interesting.
The previous evening, before leaving for Grazalema, I had discovered a snag. In the office of the hotel where we were staying was a sign stating that the hotel was currently unable to process credit card payments and to "please arrange a bank transfer or pay in cash." I was pretty miffed at this, and Michelle was, too. I really didn't remember if that sign was in there when we registered; I didn't think it was. Now, they had undergone some hard times for sure, withstanding a major flood the previous fall, but this was an inconvenience, for sure. What it meant is I would have to pull as much cash as I could from the bank in Benaojà n (thankfully close by), and hope it would cover the bill. Frankly, I mistakenly thought that since we booked through hotels.com, that the bill was already paid. I found out that was not the case. And, after reading up on the situation a bit, I saw this was a common practice among smaller hotels in Europe. Kinda pissed us both off, but there wasn't much I could do. So, Sunday I had pulled out my maximum (around $362 - €300 with conversion), and I had enough to pay our bill. We left so early Monday morning, nobody was up yet, so I left the cash under some papers in the office with a note to please email me that they received the money. (They did, later that day.) And then, we went by the bank again before leaving to pull more money (thankfully, it was already the next day back home, and I could get some more). Minor irritation, and I wouldn't receive any rewards back from my credit card, but oh well.....
So, Michelle and I headed back on the road to Madrid. I spotted and followed the band vehicle, and we even made a common food stop along the way. After the looooong six hours, I pulled into the Madrid airport and made it to the rental car return. A woman checking in the cars instantly noticed the scratched side of the car from the night in Villaluenga del Rosario, but I was covered fully, so that wasn't an issue. Another whew.
The rest of the band arrived after we were already checked in; we waited in the airport exit. A few more minutes, and we were hooked up with the MVP of the tour, Mr. Bechito "Flover" Martinez. He was to be our driver, equipment hustler, translator, and everything valuable for the next few weeks. The Sprinter van we had was larger than the Transit van we were accustomed to on these European runs; there was plenty of room for folks, and certainly room for Michelle, too.
The ride to Zaragoza was around three hours, and we had just enough time to unload in the club (which was a basement bar, fomerly a prison in the 15th century!) and then check into our hotel, which was only a couple of blocks away. The rest of the band was staying adjacent to the club in some club housing.
We had a nice couple of sets, the HMTrio first, followed by the Hickoids. The audience area was nicely stocked with seating, making this primarily a "sit-down" show for the audience. Also, this was the trio's first appearance in Spain, and Patrick (Harvey) was particularly stoked. The Hickoids set went well, but the crowd was, by then, smaller. It was a Monday night, after all, but the seating arrangement, I think, had something to do with it. The HMT is perfect for a seated audience; the Hickoids not so much so. But there were still fun moments...
The previous evening, before leaving for Grazalema, I had discovered a snag. In the office of the hotel where we were staying was a sign stating that the hotel was currently unable to process credit card payments and to "please arrange a bank transfer or pay in cash." I was pretty miffed at this, and Michelle was, too. I really didn't remember if that sign was in there when we registered; I didn't think it was. Now, they had undergone some hard times for sure, withstanding a major flood the previous fall, but this was an inconvenience, for sure. What it meant is I would have to pull as much cash as I could from the bank in Benaojà n (thankfully close by), and hope it would cover the bill. Frankly, I mistakenly thought that since we booked through hotels.com, that the bill was already paid. I found out that was not the case. And, after reading up on the situation a bit, I saw this was a common practice among smaller hotels in Europe. Kinda pissed us both off, but there wasn't much I could do. So, Sunday I had pulled out my maximum (around $362 - €300 with conversion), and I had enough to pay our bill. We left so early Monday morning, nobody was up yet, so I left the cash under some papers in the office with a note to please email me that they received the money. (They did, later that day.) And then, we went by the bank again before leaving to pull more money (thankfully, it was already the next day back home, and I could get some more). Minor irritation, and I wouldn't receive any rewards back from my credit card, but oh well.....
So, Michelle and I headed back on the road to Madrid. I spotted and followed the band vehicle, and we even made a common food stop along the way. After the looooong six hours, I pulled into the Madrid airport and made it to the rental car return. A woman checking in the cars instantly noticed the scratched side of the car from the night in Villaluenga del Rosario, but I was covered fully, so that wasn't an issue. Another whew.
The rest of the band arrived after we were already checked in; we waited in the airport exit. A few more minutes, and we were hooked up with the MVP of the tour, Mr. Bechito "Flover" Martinez. He was to be our driver, equipment hustler, translator, and everything valuable for the next few weeks. The Sprinter van we had was larger than the Transit van we were accustomed to on these European runs; there was plenty of room for folks, and certainly room for Michelle, too.
The ride to Zaragoza was around three hours, and we had just enough time to unload in the club (which was a basement bar, fomerly a prison in the 15th century!) and then check into our hotel, which was only a couple of blocks away. The rest of the band was staying adjacent to the club in some club housing.
We had a nice couple of sets, the HMTrio first, followed by the Hickoids. The audience area was nicely stocked with seating, making this primarily a "sit-down" show for the audience. Also, this was the trio's first appearance in Spain, and Patrick (Harvey) was particularly stoked. The Hickoids set went well, but the crowd was, by then, smaller. It was a Monday night, after all, but the seating arrangement, I think, had something to do with it. The HMT is perfect for a seated audience; the Hickoids not so much so. But there were still fun moments...
After the gig, we went to eat a bunch of tapas at a pretty good joint and then went walking around (although it was getting a bit chilly and windy for ol' shorts-wearer here), checking out some of the architecture and statuary around. (Zaragoza is the birthplace of Francisco Goya.)
And then....Michelle and I headed back to our hotel for some rest and to prep for her departure from the group the next day. Waaaaaaahhhhh!!!
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Sunday, August 11
Michelle had been talking about wanting to take in a flamenco show while we were together in Spain. After some research, she found one in Ronda, and it turned out to be at a restaurant the band had parked near the day before. We recognized it right away. So, Michelle got our hosts to call and make reservations at the show for Sunday afternoon. (Our hoteliers had set up the caving expedition as well.)
The flamenco show (and lunch) was at a place called Restaurant Quinqué. The lunch was probably the best food I ate in Spain (I can't say a lot about Spanish food; not really great, but then we'd been to Italy the previous October), and the show was terrifically entertaining. I like the way the show seemed almost improvised but clearly wasn't. A guitar player came out and played about ten minutes; again, the piece sounded improvised. Then two people (singers, it turned out) and a woman in flamenco dancer garb came out and sat in chairs alongside the guitarist. All three clapped while the guitarist continued to play, and then each singer took turns singing while seated. At some point in the middle, the dancer suddenly popped up and went into flamenco moves. No warning, set up, nothing. She just popped up and went into it. Impressive. The entire performance was around 40 minutes. But from what I understand, the evening performances are quite a bit longer. Still, this was perfect and a great way to spend the afternoon.
After returning to our hotel for a bit, we headed out to the last festival performance which was in Grazalema, the second longest drive we'd have to make to a festival show....around 35 minutes. When we got to this one, everything was marked better than the first two had been. There was an obvious parking lot, and it was clear where the stage was. And it was equally picturesque to the night before in Ronda.
We were closing out this night, following our new friends' acts. By the time I got to the stage (and had already watched our pals play), I was met with this as a drum setup:
Yes, that is the drummer's view of......well, the drums are sitting on cement, with a rainbow-colored strap lashing everything together. A previous drummer explained to me he put the towel in there between the pedal and the kick drum to minimize clicking noise and perhaps even to help keep everything in place. The hardware was of that twig-thin variety that costs roughly $20 a stand. Cody told me later that when he first saw the drum kit, he thought "jeez, Lance is going to destroy that."
But I played with only mild restraint, and everything went fine. I took the gloves off a bit by the end of the set..."Donkey Lady," etc.....and everything was okay. We didn't have much of a crowd, being Sunday and the end of the festival, but I thought it was a fitting end to everything. We said goodbye to all the folks we'd shared the common stage with over the last few nights (Cives was not on this bill), and headed out....for Michelle and me, back to Benaojà n. We had an early call the next morning, and a lot to do. Hoo boy.
The flamenco show (and lunch) was at a place called Restaurant Quinqué. The lunch was probably the best food I ate in Spain (I can't say a lot about Spanish food; not really great, but then we'd been to Italy the previous October), and the show was terrifically entertaining. I like the way the show seemed almost improvised but clearly wasn't. A guitar player came out and played about ten minutes; again, the piece sounded improvised. Then two people (singers, it turned out) and a woman in flamenco dancer garb came out and sat in chairs alongside the guitarist. All three clapped while the guitarist continued to play, and then each singer took turns singing while seated. At some point in the middle, the dancer suddenly popped up and went into flamenco moves. No warning, set up, nothing. She just popped up and went into it. Impressive. The entire performance was around 40 minutes. But from what I understand, the evening performances are quite a bit longer. Still, this was perfect and a great way to spend the afternoon.
After returning to our hotel for a bit, we headed out to the last festival performance which was in Grazalema, the second longest drive we'd have to make to a festival show....around 35 minutes. When we got to this one, everything was marked better than the first two had been. There was an obvious parking lot, and it was clear where the stage was. And it was equally picturesque to the night before in Ronda.
We were closing out this night, following our new friends' acts. By the time I got to the stage (and had already watched our pals play), I was met with this as a drum setup:
Yes, that is the drummer's view of......well, the drums are sitting on cement, with a rainbow-colored strap lashing everything together. A previous drummer explained to me he put the towel in there between the pedal and the kick drum to minimize clicking noise and perhaps even to help keep everything in place. The hardware was of that twig-thin variety that costs roughly $20 a stand. Cody told me later that when he first saw the drum kit, he thought "jeez, Lance is going to destroy that."
But I played with only mild restraint, and everything went fine. I took the gloves off a bit by the end of the set..."Donkey Lady," etc.....and everything was okay. We didn't have much of a crowd, being Sunday and the end of the festival, but I thought it was a fitting end to everything. We said goodbye to all the folks we'd shared the common stage with over the last few nights (Cives was not on this bill), and headed out....for Michelle and me, back to Benaojà n. We had an early call the next morning, and a lot to do. Hoo boy.
Friday, September 13, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Saturday, August 10
Saturday, August 10th. This was the day that shall live in Hickoids (in)famy for their first (?) Pueblos Blancos festival. What a night.
But what a day, too. Michelle and I went to a cave....oddly, not the one down the highway from us, Cueva del Gato.....but, Cueva de la Pileta, several kilometers away up a windy road. We had another GPS issue, the directions not accurate, but Michelle spied cars parked in an area some ways off the main road. Upon driving back, we found it. That was par for the course during the southern Spain stay - GPS was many times not accurate.
But the cave was not only a nice respite from the heat....sort of like being in a cool refrigerator for an hour plus....the cave had many paintings dating back, well, a long time. Michelle was quite stoked by it all; I was very impressed, too. And we weren't in the sun to absorb some culture. Since I had to have energy to play, this was important.
Later, it was off to Ronda, which is the largest town we were playing in for the festival. As the guys had their passenger van to park, I assumed I was going to have to find our own parking, and I chose a lot several blocks away. We had already driven to the site of the later performance, so I had some bearings down for a change. From the car, I had to bring my cymbals, stick bag, and kick pedal, and off we went. About halfway to the playing area, I thought I'd better message my bandmates to say I was on my way, etc., although there was plenty of time. Communication is good. So I set everything down at the entrance to a small park near an ice cream stand and wrote and sent a message. We continued on to the stage, running into Jeff and old friend Lonnie Layman along the way. This was the site before anything started.
Wow! But anyway, we hustled down the steps, got to the backstage area, and as I dropped my cymbals and stick bag, I thought.....where's my kick pedal? For a minute, I thought maybe Jeff or Lonnie might have taken it from me when we met up with them, but I feared the worst. Ol' Forgetful might have left the pedal where I sent that earlier message from! So I hustled back up went back down the road toward that park.....and there it was. My kick pedal sitting right where'd I left it. It did sort of blend in with the iron gate behind it, so it must not have drawn any attention. Or simply, no one cared much. Anyway, I had my kick pedal! And breathed a huge sigh of relief!
So, we took a look around the town:
It's purty. So's Michelle.
The line-up at this show was similar to the one on Thursday night, except there was an addition of Brian Ashley Jones (alt-country, I'd say), and another act before him who completely escapes my mind. So we were third this night, and man, what a night. We tore the roof (if there'd been one) off the place, and by the end, we most definitely had the crowd with us.
A moment to remember, for sure! Michelle shot that, but I had forgotten to turn the camera audio attenuator on before handing her the camera, hence the distorted audio. That camera normally captures pretty good audio.
The town of Ronda is pretty interesting in its own right. Orson Welles had an affinity for it, and his ashes were scattered there. There's also a monument to Ernest Hemingway there, but I forget the connection.
We went and got our food (I hadn't mentioned that we had meal and drink tickets each night). We stayed through Jake's band and Maf again....they were their always stellar selves. And then it was the not-too-long hustle back to our parking lot and back to our country digs.
But what a day, too. Michelle and I went to a cave....oddly, not the one down the highway from us, Cueva del Gato.....but, Cueva de la Pileta, several kilometers away up a windy road. We had another GPS issue, the directions not accurate, but Michelle spied cars parked in an area some ways off the main road. Upon driving back, we found it. That was par for the course during the southern Spain stay - GPS was many times not accurate.
But the cave was not only a nice respite from the heat....sort of like being in a cool refrigerator for an hour plus....the cave had many paintings dating back, well, a long time. Michelle was quite stoked by it all; I was very impressed, too. And we weren't in the sun to absorb some culture. Since I had to have energy to play, this was important.
Later, it was off to Ronda, which is the largest town we were playing in for the festival. As the guys had their passenger van to park, I assumed I was going to have to find our own parking, and I chose a lot several blocks away. We had already driven to the site of the later performance, so I had some bearings down for a change. From the car, I had to bring my cymbals, stick bag, and kick pedal, and off we went. About halfway to the playing area, I thought I'd better message my bandmates to say I was on my way, etc., although there was plenty of time. Communication is good. So I set everything down at the entrance to a small park near an ice cream stand and wrote and sent a message. We continued on to the stage, running into Jeff and old friend Lonnie Layman along the way. This was the site before anything started.
Wow! But anyway, we hustled down the steps, got to the backstage area, and as I dropped my cymbals and stick bag, I thought.....where's my kick pedal? For a minute, I thought maybe Jeff or Lonnie might have taken it from me when we met up with them, but I feared the worst. Ol' Forgetful might have left the pedal where I sent that earlier message from! So I hustled back up went back down the road toward that park.....and there it was. My kick pedal sitting right where'd I left it. It did sort of blend in with the iron gate behind it, so it must not have drawn any attention. Or simply, no one cared much. Anyway, I had my kick pedal! And breathed a huge sigh of relief!
So, we took a look around the town:
It's purty. So's Michelle.
The line-up at this show was similar to the one on Thursday night, except there was an addition of Brian Ashley Jones (alt-country, I'd say), and another act before him who completely escapes my mind. So we were third this night, and man, what a night. We tore the roof (if there'd been one) off the place, and by the end, we most definitely had the crowd with us.
A moment to remember, for sure! Michelle shot that, but I had forgotten to turn the camera audio attenuator on before handing her the camera, hence the distorted audio. That camera normally captures pretty good audio.
The town of Ronda is pretty interesting in its own right. Orson Welles had an affinity for it, and his ashes were scattered there. There's also a monument to Ernest Hemingway there, but I forget the connection.
We went and got our food (I hadn't mentioned that we had meal and drink tickets each night). We stayed through Jake's band and Maf again....they were their always stellar selves. And then it was the not-too-long hustle back to our parking lot and back to our country digs.
Saturday, September 7, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Friday, August 9
On to Friday. During the day, Michelle and I took it pretty easy. Part of that "taking it easy" was exacerbated by the slow pace of restaurants in Spain. In particular, the restaurant across the road from our hotel, Las Banderas. We went over in the early afternoon for our second meal there and were probably seated for at least two hours. Nothing moves fast, but then we weren't, either. If I recall correctly, Michelle had a piece of swordfish that was roughly the size of my head.
Later, we headed over to Montejaque, and the second Hickoids show of the festival. The other Hickoids had been housed by the festival in a couple of rooms right next to the square/playing area in the town, meaning that those poor souls hadn't had much sleep. Folks (including them at times) were partying until the wee hours, and from what I heard, it was loud. Also, their air conditioning was apparently not the best. So it was a hot noisy time for the Hickoids, minus me. Our hotel was incredibly quiet at night, and our a.c. was kicking. And I had Michelle with me. It's a wonder they don't all hate me now; maybe they do.
Montejaque was just a few kilometers north of Benajoà n, which in turn was just a kilometer north of where we were staying. So, we just had a short drive to this one. Unfortunately, we had to park near an unfinished building of some sort (the guys' van was there, too) and walk a fairly long ways to the town square. This time, I was smart. I brought my cymbals. Of course, wouldn't you know it......they had cymbals there.....and they had them at every other festival show. Just that first one....well, we won't go there again.
There were a few shops and restaurants around where we were playing, so Michelle and I stocked up on a few snacks and drinks to take to our hotel room later. We were playing first this night, followed by the two acts who followed us the night before and then other acts, including Los Skarnales, from Houston. I was wearing my Astros jersey to this gig, and several of the Skarnales yelled "hey, Astros!" to me, giving me big thumbs ups. I was confused at first, because I didn't realize who they were!
Our set was okay. We played fine, but we're pretty unaccustomed to playing first these days, and the crowd just never really warmed to us, despite Smitty's best workings. That happens sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of, but we just couldn't get the crowd on our side. Once the next acts started, things changed for the crowd, and they started getting into it. One regret I do have is that Michelle and I were getting a bit tired, so we went back to the hotel after Maf É Tulà . We missed Los Skarnales, who the guys were raving about the next day. I wish we would have caught some of them.
So endeth the Friday.
Later, we headed over to Montejaque, and the second Hickoids show of the festival. The other Hickoids had been housed by the festival in a couple of rooms right next to the square/playing area in the town, meaning that those poor souls hadn't had much sleep. Folks (including them at times) were partying until the wee hours, and from what I heard, it was loud. Also, their air conditioning was apparently not the best. So it was a hot noisy time for the Hickoids, minus me. Our hotel was incredibly quiet at night, and our a.c. was kicking. And I had Michelle with me. It's a wonder they don't all hate me now; maybe they do.
Montejaque was just a few kilometers north of Benajoà n, which in turn was just a kilometer north of where we were staying. So, we just had a short drive to this one. Unfortunately, we had to park near an unfinished building of some sort (the guys' van was there, too) and walk a fairly long ways to the town square. This time, I was smart. I brought my cymbals. Of course, wouldn't you know it......they had cymbals there.....and they had them at every other festival show. Just that first one....well, we won't go there again.
There were a few shops and restaurants around where we were playing, so Michelle and I stocked up on a few snacks and drinks to take to our hotel room later. We were playing first this night, followed by the two acts who followed us the night before and then other acts, including Los Skarnales, from Houston. I was wearing my Astros jersey to this gig, and several of the Skarnales yelled "hey, Astros!" to me, giving me big thumbs ups. I was confused at first, because I didn't realize who they were!
Our set was okay. We played fine, but we're pretty unaccustomed to playing first these days, and the crowd just never really warmed to us, despite Smitty's best workings. That happens sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of, but we just couldn't get the crowd on our side. Once the next acts started, things changed for the crowd, and they started getting into it. One regret I do have is that Michelle and I were getting a bit tired, so we went back to the hotel after Maf É Tulà . We missed Los Skarnales, who the guys were raving about the next day. I wish we would have caught some of them.
So endeth the Friday.
Friday, September 6, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Thursday, August 8
I found Michelle up at the crack of dawn...before, really....having breakfast down by the river in a nice spot at the back of our hotel. Truly relaxing stuff.
As we found out later, the owners had suffered a terrible flood the previous October, when ten meters of water pretty much washed out the first floor of the hotel. That part had just reopened; we were staying on the second floor and had no idea about any of this.
Michelle, ever on the lookout for stuff for us to do, had found some ruins close by in Acinipo. We decided to go there a bit after breakfast the next day. Turned out that day might have been the hottest of all the days we spent in southern Spain; the sun was relentless on us as we investigated the small but interesting set of Roman ruins. Still, it was something to do while we were both there.
As we found out later, the owners had suffered a terrible flood the previous October, when ten meters of water pretty much washed out the first floor of the hotel. That part had just reopened; we were staying on the second floor and had no idea about any of this.
Michelle, ever on the lookout for stuff for us to do, had found some ruins close by in Acinipo. We decided to go there a bit after breakfast the next day. Turned out that day might have been the hottest of all the days we spent in southern Spain; the sun was relentless on us as we investigated the small but interesting set of Roman ruins. Still, it was something to do while we were both there.
After Acinipo, we had lunch in the nearby town of Setenil, and then took refuge from the sun in our well air conditioned room. And probably a nap. Or two.
That night, the Hickoids were playing the first of our Pueblos Blancos shows in Villaluenga del Rosario, which as it turned out, was the longest drive we would have from our home base. Distance-wise, it wasn't even that far, but the mountainous region required a circuitous to getting there, so it was about a 45-minute drive. Not bad, though. The roads weren't even treacherous.
Once we got the town, I had no idea where we were actually going to play. The rest of the guys hadn't known, either. And this led me to make a poor decision that, if I hadn't taken out the full insurance for our rental car, would have been pretty costly. I made the mistake of driving from the main road into the town, and ending up in a maze of small roads that became harder and harder to navigate. I finally found a couple of band members, who pointed out the general area where we were playing - the town square at the center. Cody told me the other members' rental van was parked off the main road, and they had walked up. So, in my not-so-gentle retreat from the small roads of centrallish town, I managed to scratch the driver's side rear panel of the rental car. As I remembered I had the insurance, I wasn't worried....still, you don't like to bring a rental back with obvious damage. I parked off the main road in an otherwise empty parking lot (the other guys' van was parked in a marked lot, figured I wouldn't do that), and Michelle and I walked up with my stick bag and pedal. I didn't bring the cymbals, as it was my understanding everything would be provided at these gigs. That would come back to bite me in the butt (lungs, really) later.
After the uphill trek to where we were playing, we sussed out the situation. There was a stage set up, sort of in the town square, but with a backing, making us sort of cordoned off from town. Out of all the places we played, I'd say this was the least picturesque. The first band, Cives, was sound checking, and the time....well, let's just say that the Spanish are not too big on timeliness. We waited around for awhile for Cives to start. Hickoids were on after Cives. When they were playing, I noticed a couple of cymbal bags around and thought I'd better ask the situation. I talked with Jack Ryan, who was playing bass for the two bands following us and found out that no cymbals had been provided. Uh-oh. And it was getting close to time for our set. And it was no easy trek back to the car and then uphill all the way to where we were playing. Patrick volunteered to go to help me, so off we ran. Back to the car, and then he grabbed my cymbals and hustled up, while I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath. By the time we got back, it was set up time, and I thought I was going to have a coronary right there. I mean, it was scary. I'm sure being out in the hot sun for a few hours earlier in the day hadn't helped. So, I took a bit of time setting up, trying to catch my breath and be ready to play well. We started slow (Jeff kept checking on me), but actually the set went fine. We built up and by the end were rocking at full force. The setting was the most intimate we would play for the whole festival, so I would say despite everything, the set worked out really well. And I didn't die. Yay!
The Jake Levinson Band played next, followed by Maf É Tulà , both based in Guatemala and sharing rhythm sections. Both acts were pretty great. I really enjoyed the Levinson Band's arrangements of familiar covers. Maf is a singer/songwriter, and her stuff is gripping in presentation...she's a fantastic performer. What I didn't know at this point was that we would share the stage with these two bands every night of the festival. Cives we only played with one more time. Well, I think that's right.
Afterward, another long trek (downhill, at least) to the car and the 45-minute drive back to our hotel. And sleep. Aaahhh......
Sunday, August 25, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Tuesday/Wednesday, August 6/7
Tuesday was a fairly relaxed day before heading to the airport. I did get a bit of the "issue" resolved but not all. So, some pressure was off, but I dared not proceed with further chemical help for the time being. I did not need an emergency on an overseas flight!
After some hanging about getting food, and some walking around, and a fond farewell to Max, who took his van and greatly appreciated equipment, we headed to the Newark airport from Brooklyn in a taxi van. Our flight wasn't leaving until sometime around 9, so this was a leisurely non-hustle to the airport.
And wait we did - tacking on another 50 minutes or so, as our flight was going to be delayed some. The main issue for me with this was that Michelle was flying over to meet me there. Her flight was scheduled to land about 50 minutes before mine. Bringing her over was certainly a special treat, but I didn't want it to interfere in any way with any band activity.
But the United pilot stepped on it a bit, and we were only about 35 minutes late. Madrid's airport has two terminals for international flights, 1 and 4, and, as luck would have it, we arrived in Terminal 1 while Michelle was waiting at Terminal 4. Several confusing messages later, we figured it out. As our rental car was waiting at Terminal 1, I had her grab a shuttle over to Terminal 1, while I settled the rental car business. She got to our terminal right as I was wrapping things up at Hertz. We said our goodbyes to most of the band (Smitty was grabbing their rental vehicle at another, farther off kiosk), and we were off and running toward Benaoján, where she and I were staying for the Pueblos Blancos festival, the first part of this tour. As the festival was concentrated in a small area, this was the ideal time for Michelle to come over. We were off the first night, and then playing the next four.
But it was a fairly long haul to Benaoján from Madrid, and not an overly interesting one. And I was dead tired. Still, we made it in about six hours. I had gone the extra mile or twenty with the rental car, purchasing the separate insurance and getting a GPS on top of that. Didn't want to take any chances in a country I'd never been in before. This would pay off, it turned out - the insurance part, anyway. The GPS was problematic in the south of Spain, period. Next time, I'll stay with Google Maps.
And so, when we got to the vicinity of Benaoján, I could not find our hotel. GPS led us to an area called The Station, and I finally asked someone in my broken Spanish where the hotel was. The lady I asked had obviously been asked this a few times. She explained the general area where the hotel was, and after poking around that area a bit, we found it.
The hotel, Hotel Molino Cuatro Paradas, was definitely set off from the main road a bit. Our room was quite quaint (two "qu" words in a row!), just right for us. The area for breakfast was beside a small river, which, we found out, had risen to a full ten meters the previous October and flooded their entire first floor. They'd only become operational as a hotel again in recent months, and I believe a lot of the first floor was still unusable. All in all, it was perfect for us. The rest of the band was being housed just north of us in Montejaque, one of the festival sites. We spent the rest of Wednesday recuperating from the long drive and previous flying on little sleep. After eating dinner across the road at Venta Las Banderas, it was sleep for us.
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Monday, August 5
Hey! Guess what we started the day with? That's right, leaving from Atlantic City. Although this time, it was the last time...we checked out of the hotel. And we had Max with us; he was retrieving his van after our Brooklyn show.
By this time, I was pretty much in constant discomfort from the "issue," but I tried not to let it be known. Smile and go along with things was my m.o. Still pretty much is this trip (I'm writing this on Aug. 21). But I did have a plan, and I was about to put it into action.
We got to Brooklyn early enough to check into our hotel, and grab a nap. Max decided to take a nap in our room, which was fine of course, but he lay on the side of the bed next to my already set up CPAP machine. He conked out quickly, so I went to the drug store to pick up an issue remedy. That's right, a laxative. Trouble was, I was going to have to time everything right. But at least a plan was set. Max got up from his nap, and I got a good hour and a half nap in before leaving for the club.
This evening's show was another Jonathan Toubin production at Our Wicked Lady. Someone was cooking Texas-style fare, and the people at the bar could not have been friendlier. More about that in a bit. The line-up turned out a bit overstuffed, but everything worked out in the end.
The show finally kicked off around 9 PM with a solo set from Max Jeffers. Unlike at the Baltimore brewery, a nice group of folks attentively watched Max perform his tunes. I think Max felt this and responded with intensity in kind. Great set.
Next up was a band including the Texas-bred boyfriend of a staff bartender; the band was called Lackadazies, a pretty powerful, stoney three-piece. Solid band. On the negative side, when I went to the drums following their set to begin the cymbal switch, their bass player told me "hey man, tell your bass player this rig's almost blown." After what had happened in Manhattan, I dreaded telling Rice, but I did. He shrugged.
The Harvey McLaughlin Trio squeezed into the line-up with a quick set of six songs. I felt the limited time influenced me to push the tempos a bit, but all went well and was warmly received. At least bass seemed to be coming through.
Before the HMT set, the head bartender (manager?) gave me a bottle of mezcal for the band. I told him half the band was sober, but he insisted, with the "from my heart" motion. Okay, I thought, so I stashed the bottle behind the bass rig. The key drinking members found out about the bottle soon enough. However, as the Hickoids were setting up, I noticed the bottle was gone. Then I was asked about it by one of our Drinky McDrinkingtons. Someone (I forget who) said "oh yeah, the sound man grabbed that bottle." I went to ask him about it, and he said he thought we'd brought it in. I laughed and explained how that nice bartender fellow had given it to us. He looked surprised and went to retrieve it for us, apologizing profusely. I told him I completely understood and all was well!
The Hickoids set was a helluva lot of fun. A great demonstrative audience makes it better every time. Plus, again, it was fun playing in front of my ol' pal Jonathan. Even though he's almost ten years my junior, the positive effect he had on my life is incalculable. I mean that. And I'm a much better, more relaxed drummer than I was in those days; I wanted to show him. The whole band had a good night, although yes, the bass situation could have been better.
Back to the "issue": I took a laxative right when the Hickoids began playing. I was hoping for relief sometime during the night. (Aren't you glad you're reading this?) Well....almost nothing happened. A bit of relief, let's say, but not nearly enough. This was obviously not going to be corrected until Spain. I was just going to have to grin and bear it. Not an easy task. Still, on to Spain....
Monday, August 19, 2019
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Sunday, August 4
The day's journey into rockdom of course begins with a three-hour (this time) journey from Atlantic City. These drives quickly became a drag. Especially for ol' Drummer McBadleg here. Between at least 5-6 hours in the van daily, along with the crappy food one finds along I-95...I was not in a good place. That's when some, let's say "irregularity," began. It had actually begun the night before when I had quite a painful "session." Quote marks aren't going to help this, are they? This issue of non-expellation would continue into Spain. But hey, it's not all bad stuff, back to the regular rock-and-roll life...
The club in Washington D.C. was called the Black Cat, was pretty nice overall, and expertly run. There was a large room in the back of the building that we had to carry gear through (after lifting the gear up on a freight elevator), but the smaller front room was really great, and crisply air conditioned. All the staff were extremely helpful, although we did have to pretty much run our own sound.
The big bonus this night was that the Harvey McLaughlin Trio was going to play! And we ran off all 10 we had in grand fashion. Well, you've read how much I enjoy playing in this configuration. Fun, or "Ffun," as ConFunkShun would spell it.
The Hickoids set went well enough, with a nice smattering of folks there to see us. The door was being run as "donation admission," perhaps due to it being a Sunday. I don't recall anything great or awful about this show, so I'm betting it was okay.
Maybe one thing I should mention is that due to the eye procedure I had in mid-July, I've been wearing protective racquetball-style glasses when I play, although I often forget to put them on before the first song. They were recommended by the eye surgeon; I'm complying. But one side effect I'm having is that as the inside of the glasses gets sweaty, my vision becomes tripendicular, dude. Like to the point of the snare drum looking like it's flipping while I play. Kind of funny, for sure, and not as distracting as one might think. At least I'm taking it that way.
After this show, we had the additional duty of picking up Max in Annapolis, as he was taking his van and equipment back after the Monday show in Brooklyn. Max was staying with us tonight. So we picked him up, and then headed to.....(sigh).....Atlantic City.
My "trouble" continued...
Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Saturday, Aug 3
The second gig of the tour was at the Waverly Brewery in Baltimore, home of both John Waters and "The Wire." I like that. But of course, we had a 2.5 hour drive from Atlantic City to endure first. (I was quickly going to dislike these commutes.)
The Waverly Brewery had a pretty small area to play in, not really a stage-style setup. And some folks were having a birthday party off to the left of the playing area, which made setup somewhat difficult. Max Jeffers of Western Star opened the show solo (turns out Western Star hadn't played in about a year). He played several songs that were tolerated, maybe even politely received, by the birthday partiers and the few other folks scattered around. Then it was our turn.
I was again using Bob's drums, and Bob was there with his girlfriend. Our set went fine and entertained the smattering of folks. Also, Max brought Rice a new bass head to use that worked, making Rice notably happier. At one point, during "Stop It," Max began feeding me pizza during the story section. He got to the point of just tossing pieces of slices at me. So, I got to eat a bit. I did have a notable snafu in "Working Man's Friend," when my stick got caught on my ride cymbal twice in a row during the triplet runs toward the end. I tried to make up for it by throwing several sticks in the air as a joke on the very last crash, but even that went awry, and sticks rained down on poor Smitty! Oops!
And then we drove back to Atlantic City for more bruhs and criminally overstuffed dresses. But here was the view from the hotel room (just to brush off some of the negative):
Friday, August 9, 2019
Hickoids (and a bit o' Harvey McLaughlin Trio) 2019Tour Begins
So, off we go. Friday, August 2nd. First stop: Home Sweet Home in Manhattan, home base to my old friend Jonathan Toubin's New York Night Train dance parties.
So, the set up was this: Jeff and Patrick flew to BWI airport and went to Max Jeffers' place in Annapolis to pick up his van, along with some equipment for our dates (drums, amps, etc.). Cody had already gone up on Tuesday to hang with his girlfriend in NYC. That left Rice, Tom, and yours truly bringing up the rear, flying into La Guardia and on to the gig. Of course, as air travel is unpredictable, our connecting flight in Dallas departed late, about 45 minutes.
Still, we made it to La Guardia only about 35 minutes late, but that still meant we had to hurry to get to the gig. The music needed to be done by 11, and we were getting into the airport about 8:15. So , the only workable solution was to take some sort of Uber/taxi directly to the gig. A gentleman near the airport exit doors asked if we needed transpo, and I immediately said "yes," figuring it would be overpriced. I didn't care - let's get there. And we did. He hustled us over there quickly. I won't write here what the price was, but we got there just in time.
Luckily, our borrowed van was parked in front of the club, so our luggage could be stowed quickly. The opening band, Teenage Cave Girl, had just finished. The drummer playing with Animal Show (a two-piece this night for some reason) was struggling with setting up our borrowed kit (from Bob of Western Star), and I knew nothing of it, either. But we got the kit set up after a bit, and the makeshift Animal Show played about 30 minutes.
As we were getting set up. Rice discovered the bass rig didn't work, so he had to be patched into the soundboard directly and sharing a channel with Patrick. We couldn't hear him, he couldn't hear himself, and yet, audience members seemed to hear him fine, from what I heard later.
We didn't start until 11, but we were allowed to go 'till midnight. Crowd response was fantastic, and I thought the gig was a good start, although Rice obviously didn't think so. It was fun being able to play in front of my old friend.
Immediately after we finished, the dance party began, and people crowded every bit of the room, including the stage, making strike and load out a challenge, to say the least. Hard to complain, when everybody's dancing and in a fun mood. A couple of our folks weren't in the best frame of mind, but we got it all in the van. And then it was off to Atlantic City.
Uh, let's see....how do I put this? We were staying in the Harrah's casino in what were admittedly very nice rooms. But the clientele there is something almost unbelieveable. Take your average Jerry Springer Show guest and factorialize that by ten. Seriously. Dudes strutting around, bumping into you without a care (and almost knocking you over)....women stuffed into revealing dresses at least three sizes too small....and at 4 am, which is usually when we'd return from a gig, swarms of them. My jaw was probably open during every long walk to the hotel room. Wow. Many of these specimens probably voted, too. Jesus. I'll pick up with tomorrow's activities in the next post.
Sunday, July 21, 2019
Drumming, the Great Eye Collagen Experiment, Upcoming Travels, and Apollo 11
Hello! Feeling especially good today.....yesterday's gig was rather special. I'll have to elaborate.
Recently, Rice and I began backing up Patrick Pena, otherwise known as Harvey McLaughlin, in a trio designed for him to open shows on the upcoming Hickoids European tour. What I at first thought might be a bit of a chore has turned into anything but. I'm having a blast with this, and I suspect Rice is, too. The songs are simple enough to not be too difficult to remember, and since Patrick is playing piano (and singing), the space opened up without a guitar is being duly filled by Rice and myself. What this means is any fill or nuance I throw into a song isn't drowned out by constant barrage of guitar. I've never played in a piano trio before, and this is an incredible revelation.
I suppose a big part of being in any sort of artistry is knowing that what you're creating is actually reaching someone, whether they like it or not. And maybe, just maybe, I hadn't thought much about this before. The Hickoids, as much as I like it, has two (or even occasionally three) guitars blaring away, making any sort of subtlety impossible. You might laugh that I'm using the word "subtlety" in the same sentence as the word "Hickoids." But this stuff is important. It's what separates the great bands from the merely good ones. It does make me wish the Hickoids would rehearse and play with some of this in mind. Many times, I've thought "if I were a guitar player, I wouldn't play constantly." Larger professional bands that I've seen play (or at least video of) take this into account. One of my faves when I was younger was The Tubes, and at their peak, they had two guitars, two keyboards, and two drummers. If you watch video of them from this period (roughly '77-'80), the guitars and keyboards are not all playing all the time. And the drummers (Mingo Lewis playing percussion mostly) worked in a complementary way as well. The Hickoids probably will never work on this, largely due to its current membership.
But back to this trio. We played three shows during our Memorial Day run recently, but those were all shaky affairs, largely due to Rice and myself not knowing the material through and through yet. And, even after yesterday, I can say we're not 100% there yet, but we're oh so close. And yesterday's gig was one of the most fun I've played in my life. It just felt like complete connectivity between the three of us, which inspired me to push some things even further....percussion, off-time accents, etc....and we hadn't even rehearsed since before I had my eye procedure (oh yeah, gotta write about that). I ran through the set several times during the week at home, so I was reasonably fresh for the show; I think Rice did the same. We're playing later today at an Austin Music Rooms party, a show I don't expect much from except to stretch our muscles a bit, but I'm still looking forward to it. I feel refreshed as a drummer.
So, yes, the eye procedure. The Corneal Collagen Crosslinking, Epi-on variety. The procedure itself was rather easy to get through, although there was indeed pain that night. The tech's suggestion that I sleep as much as possible that day was heeded, and that helped tremendously. By the next morning, most of the pain was gone, and a lot of healing had already taken place. I had the bandage contact lenses taken off five days later, and now we play the waiting game. So far, I don't notice a huge change in my vision. It might be slightly sharper, but time will be the final arbiter of this. According to others, I'll know more in a few months. At least, with the promise of future cataract removal, I know this won't have been for naught.
And so we leave for NYC in a couple of weeks (a bit less, really). Two Hickoids are leaving earlier for Baltimore, in order to grab our friends' Western Star's van and equipment. Cody is going up earlier, too, leaving Rice, Tom, and I to fly up together. We'll then be picked up by the folks with the van. My old friend Jonathan has set up a couple of shows in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and we're playing Baltimore and DC as well. The I-95 tour. After a few days, we fly to Madrid to begin that adventure. Michelle is flying to Madrid as well and should reach Madrid an hour before we do. We'll have to figure out transpo from there. Which will occupy much of my time the next week or so. I'm glad Michelle's coming over. She has September and October trips planned for Turkey and Egypt (third time!), so my time with her will be little over the next few months. Waaaah!! I'm very happy she's getting to travel to places she's wanted to visit, though. And who knows what the political future will hold? Gotta travel while you can.
And, lastly for today, Apollo 11. As you're no doubt aware, the 50th anniversary of the initial moon landing and walk is upon us. A couple of weeks ago, I saw the documentary "Apollo 11," and was surprised by how moving I found it. I watched it again on the anniversary last night. The space program of the late sixties has a special place in my heart and always will. When I was a kid, these guys were my rock stars. My pre-teen walls were covered with astronauts' pictures, large photos of Earth to Moon trajectory patterns, and depictions of all the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions (up to that time, I suppose). When the moon landing and walk happened on July 20, 1969, we were visiting my mom's friend Joan and her husband Willis (who later introduced me to golf, ha!). I still remember his words to me when Armstrong took the first step onto the moon's surface. "I just want you to remember this, Lance, when down the road, and I'm not around anymore, who you watched this first step on the moon with." Willis was a good man. He passed away in 1980. My reaction to watching the sheer brilliance of "Apollo 11" surprised me. And made me happy. What a different time.
Until later!
Recently, Rice and I began backing up Patrick Pena, otherwise known as Harvey McLaughlin, in a trio designed for him to open shows on the upcoming Hickoids European tour. What I at first thought might be a bit of a chore has turned into anything but. I'm having a blast with this, and I suspect Rice is, too. The songs are simple enough to not be too difficult to remember, and since Patrick is playing piano (and singing), the space opened up without a guitar is being duly filled by Rice and myself. What this means is any fill or nuance I throw into a song isn't drowned out by constant barrage of guitar. I've never played in a piano trio before, and this is an incredible revelation.
I suppose a big part of being in any sort of artistry is knowing that what you're creating is actually reaching someone, whether they like it or not. And maybe, just maybe, I hadn't thought much about this before. The Hickoids, as much as I like it, has two (or even occasionally three) guitars blaring away, making any sort of subtlety impossible. You might laugh that I'm using the word "subtlety" in the same sentence as the word "Hickoids." But this stuff is important. It's what separates the great bands from the merely good ones. It does make me wish the Hickoids would rehearse and play with some of this in mind. Many times, I've thought "if I were a guitar player, I wouldn't play constantly." Larger professional bands that I've seen play (or at least video of) take this into account. One of my faves when I was younger was The Tubes, and at their peak, they had two guitars, two keyboards, and two drummers. If you watch video of them from this period (roughly '77-'80), the guitars and keyboards are not all playing all the time. And the drummers (Mingo Lewis playing percussion mostly) worked in a complementary way as well. The Hickoids probably will never work on this, largely due to its current membership.
But back to this trio. We played three shows during our Memorial Day run recently, but those were all shaky affairs, largely due to Rice and myself not knowing the material through and through yet. And, even after yesterday, I can say we're not 100% there yet, but we're oh so close. And yesterday's gig was one of the most fun I've played in my life. It just felt like complete connectivity between the three of us, which inspired me to push some things even further....percussion, off-time accents, etc....and we hadn't even rehearsed since before I had my eye procedure (oh yeah, gotta write about that). I ran through the set several times during the week at home, so I was reasonably fresh for the show; I think Rice did the same. We're playing later today at an Austin Music Rooms party, a show I don't expect much from except to stretch our muscles a bit, but I'm still looking forward to it. I feel refreshed as a drummer.
So, yes, the eye procedure. The Corneal Collagen Crosslinking, Epi-on variety. The procedure itself was rather easy to get through, although there was indeed pain that night. The tech's suggestion that I sleep as much as possible that day was heeded, and that helped tremendously. By the next morning, most of the pain was gone, and a lot of healing had already taken place. I had the bandage contact lenses taken off five days later, and now we play the waiting game. So far, I don't notice a huge change in my vision. It might be slightly sharper, but time will be the final arbiter of this. According to others, I'll know more in a few months. At least, with the promise of future cataract removal, I know this won't have been for naught.
And so we leave for NYC in a couple of weeks (a bit less, really). Two Hickoids are leaving earlier for Baltimore, in order to grab our friends' Western Star's van and equipment. Cody is going up earlier, too, leaving Rice, Tom, and I to fly up together. We'll then be picked up by the folks with the van. My old friend Jonathan has set up a couple of shows in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and we're playing Baltimore and DC as well. The I-95 tour. After a few days, we fly to Madrid to begin that adventure. Michelle is flying to Madrid as well and should reach Madrid an hour before we do. We'll have to figure out transpo from there. Which will occupy much of my time the next week or so. I'm glad Michelle's coming over. She has September and October trips planned for Turkey and Egypt (third time!), so my time with her will be little over the next few months. Waaaah!! I'm very happy she's getting to travel to places she's wanted to visit, though. And who knows what the political future will hold? Gotta travel while you can.
And, lastly for today, Apollo 11. As you're no doubt aware, the 50th anniversary of the initial moon landing and walk is upon us. A couple of weeks ago, I saw the documentary "Apollo 11," and was surprised by how moving I found it. I watched it again on the anniversary last night. The space program of the late sixties has a special place in my heart and always will. When I was a kid, these guys were my rock stars. My pre-teen walls were covered with astronauts' pictures, large photos of Earth to Moon trajectory patterns, and depictions of all the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions (up to that time, I suppose). When the moon landing and walk happened on July 20, 1969, we were visiting my mom's friend Joan and her husband Willis (who later introduced me to golf, ha!). I still remember his words to me when Armstrong took the first step onto the moon's surface. "I just want you to remember this, Lance, when down the road, and I'm not around anymore, who you watched this first step on the moon with." Willis was a good man. He passed away in 1980. My reaction to watching the sheer brilliance of "Apollo 11" surprised me. And made me happy. What a different time.
Until later!
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Two Months and Eleven Days
Not that this blog post will cover all of two months and eleven days, but that's how long it's been since I've written in this bit o' space.
What's different might be a better question to answer. Many things in life are the same: playing shows, watching movies, following baseball, working for the ol' gubbimint. Maybe the degrees of some of these items are a bit different. Due to a, let's say, trigger incident at work, I've decided to take the plunge and try for a higher up position there. Also, many positions are becoming available as people retire and others move on to other areas. It was just time. I was tired of coasting, and my malaise was getting me into a situation I didn't like. And another manager there, who I do some narration work for on the sly, was trying to get me to come over to her group. All of these factors together told me "Lance, it's time to make a move." So, I've applied for one position in our group that I think I all but have. Time will tell; could be as soon as next week. The job would put me in a much better position to retire in three years or so - much better retirement income.
The bands continue along. Hickoids had a show last night at Bang Bang Bar in San Antonio. Pretty good show, although we had not rehearsed, so some songs were rockier than others. Still a fun time. I was pretty whooped, because......I had just driven in from Houston. I went down there Friday to see an Astros game with Chad, his son Shay, and some of his buddies. It was a good time; hope it's not the last one. Therefore, I sit here writing this stuff on not much sleep and not many neurons firing. Hope I can think of some interesting things to write about.
Well, here's one. On July 10th, I'm having a procedure done to my eyes called Corneal Crosslinking. I went for a checkup to an opthalmologist, who explained that due to the lasik surgery I had back in 2010 (and my astigmatism), my corneas are somewhat unstable. I have notice some variance in my vision, but I had chalked that up to something caused by allergies or changes in the weather. "Storm's a-comin! My eyes is goin' crazy!" Well, no, apparently not. That's the trouble with lasik and these newer eye correction procedures. It's hard to know what's down the road.
So, this crosslinking procedure involves each eye (one at a time) being clamped open, Clockwork Orange style, while riboflavin is poured in there, followed by the eye being hit with UV light for about 30 minutes. Sounds awesome. I can't wait. And of course, the real kicker....no insurance covers this. Going to cost about $5,200. But the main reason I need this, besides some expected stabilization or even improvement to my vision, is that in order to have future cataract surgery - and I'll need that someday - my corneas need to be stable enough to hold those new lenses they put in. So, I need it.
The procedure has only been approved in the US for about three years now, although it's been done in Europe for at least ten. Glad I still have some savings to cover this.
I'll be out of drumming commission for a week or so, but only out of work for a couple of days. It might even land right as I get that new job. Be kind of funny.
Pocket FishRmen continues along, but I miss not practicing on a regular basis. We got a new song sort of down at our last rehearsal, but that was a few weeks ago. Vacations and my upcoming procedure are putting the big kibosh on us getting together. And that sucks. Miss playing those songs. We have no shows until September. I'm starting to think of the band as way more of a part time project now.
Trying to detail any movies I've watched recently would be difficult; there've been many. I did watch the entire "Deadwood" series again, after watching the recent movie and realizing I had forgotten a lot. It was an enjoyable watch. And the movie was a nice wrap-up. Not perfect, but pretty good. "Game of Thrones," of course, wrapped up, and I'm pretty much in the same camp as a lot of the fans. It was okay but was too rushed and sort of slipshod when you really think about it. Time might not be kind to the end of that series. The last two movies I watched were "New York Ripper" and "Three Colors: Blue." Two you might not put together, normally. "New York Ripper" was released by Blue Underground in a snappy upgrade that really delivers the goods. If you haven't seen that one, well....it's a mixed bag, but I think it's effective, and that's what's important. And I hadn't planned on upgrading the Kieslowski's "Three Colors" movies, but HPB had a copy there last Wednesday, so I picked it up. I'm a huge Kieslowski fan, and I like the "Three Colors" movies a lot, although "Dekalog" is his masterpiece, I think. Still, I'm sure I'll be watching the other two soon enough.
Too tired to write much more. But I need to get back on this in a consistent fashion. One day. Maybe during the upcoming Hickoids European tour? Maybe. Sayonara.
What's different might be a better question to answer. Many things in life are the same: playing shows, watching movies, following baseball, working for the ol' gubbimint. Maybe the degrees of some of these items are a bit different. Due to a, let's say, trigger incident at work, I've decided to take the plunge and try for a higher up position there. Also, many positions are becoming available as people retire and others move on to other areas. It was just time. I was tired of coasting, and my malaise was getting me into a situation I didn't like. And another manager there, who I do some narration work for on the sly, was trying to get me to come over to her group. All of these factors together told me "Lance, it's time to make a move." So, I've applied for one position in our group that I think I all but have. Time will tell; could be as soon as next week. The job would put me in a much better position to retire in three years or so - much better retirement income.
The bands continue along. Hickoids had a show last night at Bang Bang Bar in San Antonio. Pretty good show, although we had not rehearsed, so some songs were rockier than others. Still a fun time. I was pretty whooped, because......I had just driven in from Houston. I went down there Friday to see an Astros game with Chad, his son Shay, and some of his buddies. It was a good time; hope it's not the last one. Therefore, I sit here writing this stuff on not much sleep and not many neurons firing. Hope I can think of some interesting things to write about.
Well, here's one. On July 10th, I'm having a procedure done to my eyes called Corneal Crosslinking. I went for a checkup to an opthalmologist, who explained that due to the lasik surgery I had back in 2010 (and my astigmatism), my corneas are somewhat unstable. I have notice some variance in my vision, but I had chalked that up to something caused by allergies or changes in the weather. "Storm's a-comin! My eyes is goin' crazy!" Well, no, apparently not. That's the trouble with lasik and these newer eye correction procedures. It's hard to know what's down the road.
So, this crosslinking procedure involves each eye (one at a time) being clamped open, Clockwork Orange style, while riboflavin is poured in there, followed by the eye being hit with UV light for about 30 minutes. Sounds awesome. I can't wait. And of course, the real kicker....no insurance covers this. Going to cost about $5,200. But the main reason I need this, besides some expected stabilization or even improvement to my vision, is that in order to have future cataract surgery - and I'll need that someday - my corneas need to be stable enough to hold those new lenses they put in. So, I need it.
The procedure has only been approved in the US for about three years now, although it's been done in Europe for at least ten. Glad I still have some savings to cover this.
I'll be out of drumming commission for a week or so, but only out of work for a couple of days. It might even land right as I get that new job. Be kind of funny.
Pocket FishRmen continues along, but I miss not practicing on a regular basis. We got a new song sort of down at our last rehearsal, but that was a few weeks ago. Vacations and my upcoming procedure are putting the big kibosh on us getting together. And that sucks. Miss playing those songs. We have no shows until September. I'm starting to think of the band as way more of a part time project now.
Trying to detail any movies I've watched recently would be difficult; there've been many. I did watch the entire "Deadwood" series again, after watching the recent movie and realizing I had forgotten a lot. It was an enjoyable watch. And the movie was a nice wrap-up. Not perfect, but pretty good. "Game of Thrones," of course, wrapped up, and I'm pretty much in the same camp as a lot of the fans. It was okay but was too rushed and sort of slipshod when you really think about it. Time might not be kind to the end of that series. The last two movies I watched were "New York Ripper" and "Three Colors: Blue." Two you might not put together, normally. "New York Ripper" was released by Blue Underground in a snappy upgrade that really delivers the goods. If you haven't seen that one, well....it's a mixed bag, but I think it's effective, and that's what's important. And I hadn't planned on upgrading the Kieslowski's "Three Colors" movies, but HPB had a copy there last Wednesday, so I picked it up. I'm a huge Kieslowski fan, and I like the "Three Colors" movies a lot, although "Dekalog" is his masterpiece, I think. Still, I'm sure I'll be watching the other two soon enough.
Too tired to write much more. But I need to get back on this in a consistent fashion. One day. Maybe during the upcoming Hickoids European tour? Maybe. Sayonara.
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