Most of the bullying I endured was in middle school. I went to a private high school about five miles away from where I lived, mostly because it was a much better school than the public school I lived near, but at least partly because I could get away from my tormentors since none of those dumbass hillbillies would be going where I was.
The Bradburys:
Packer fan
Hanson brother
Dead Ray Bradbury
Mayhem (not pictured)
Tough night for lots of reasons which I’d rather not go into.
One thing, though. I am willing to bet that there is not a guitarist on the planet who strikes his gear and gets it off the stage more quickly than me. When I’m done and there is a band after us, I work fast and hard to clear. I have been playing professionally since I was 13 and have played thousands of gigs all across this country and beyond. Getting off the stage quickly is of critical importance at shows like this where there are a lot of bands and tight windows between the sets. It fucks everything up if anyone dawdles. Therefore I hustle and so do all my mates. We get it.
SO, NO, DICKSMACK: IT IS NOT OK IF YOU START SETTING UP YOUR PEDALBOARD THAT’S THE SIZE OF A GODDAMNED SURFBOARD WHILE I’M STILL STRIKING. I DON’T CARE HOW FUCKING AWESOME AND IMPORTANT YOU AND YOUR TONE ARE. GET THE FUCK OUT MY WAY SO I CAN GET THE FUCK OUT YOURS, YOU INBRED, PUSTULOUS FUCKNOZZLE, AND I AM NOT GONNA BE SORRY WHEN I “ACCIDENTALLY” HIT YOU SQUARE IN YOUR ENORMOUS, BUMPER-LIKE FOREHEAD WITH MY 80-POUND AMPLIFIER.
OK. GOOD TALK.
I know the odds of people
are exactly 0.00000, but if you’re curious what I look like when I am bringing the rawk, you can look here then here. Brief NSFW at the start of the second one, but it has more me, not coincidentally.
The gig was incredible, electric, cathartic, and utterly satisfying. I’d do a recap but it’d be hard to put it into words since it affected me in a much more primitive part of my brain. We’ll probably do another one in a year or so; hopefully you can make it.
(videos courtesy Mark Lush)
I busted an A during the fourth song. I had to finish that one with five strings, detuned and awkward. I was like Jack White without the violent misogyny.
It went downhill from there. My tone sucked, my forearms felt leaden, I was in poor voice, I sweat through my shirt. I had a headache and it hasn’t gone away.
It’s like this: my particular style of playing has been described as athletic, gymnastic, muscular. As such, I have to stay in shape. I can’t play a couple of days a year then walk out there and try to be what I used to be. No one wants to see once great jocks, now fat and old, playing celebrity softball games.
From here, right now, I need to recommit, reinvent, or hang it up, because fuck that.
A pretty incredible thing happened at last night’s Bradburys gig.
Long-time readers may recall the story from last summer when, at the Taste of Wisconsin, a guy came up to me after we played Off Broadway’s “Stay In Time” and told me he was the original guitarist and that we did a good job with it. He also said, “your singer sounds just like Cliff!”
So there we were last night about halfway through our set when an older dude with wild hair came down to the front of the stage and got my attention. “Hey, I’m Cliff Johnson. Can I come up and sing with you guys?”
It really was him. Apparently Dan, our fearless leader, knew this was a possibility but he kept it from the rest of us. Cliff came up and we launched into “Stay In Time” after he asked us if we were sure we knew the eighth-note riff before the chorus. (Please.) And as soon as he leaned into that first line, “Every day when you turn away from your world, boy,” all the hairs on my neck stood up and I broke into the biggest smile. This was the voice that was playing through my radio all summer in 1980. Those junior high years were the most critical of my formative era as a musician. I doubt most people reading this will remember that song; it peaked at #51 on the Billboard charts nationally, but it was a much bigger hit here since they were local heroes. It’s hard for me to overstate how incredible it was to share a stage, even a mic, with a guy who I’ve been singing along with for 30+ years. (I really hope he didn’t catch whatever this disease is in my lungs. Sorry, Cliff.)
After that, we did The Beatles’ “Bad Boy” (now Junior, behave yourself) which Cliff totally owned. Then he took his leave to big smiles and big applause all around. Our next song was “No Matter What” by Badfinger, and he couldn’t help himself and came back up and sang background vocals while Jake, our bass player, handled lead. Super fun.
Anyway, that’s truly a first. I’ve opened for some semi-legendary people, but this was the first time I ever actually got to play with one, live. I love that after over 30 years as a performer, I still get the occasional first-time experience. It was a thrill I’ll never forget.
(You can hear “Stay In Time” at the link to the old post above. Photos by Dan’s daughter Mari.)
Gig recap:
Some more serious news: something’s wrong with my right arm…my forearm muscles are really tight and my fingers and hand are twitching. If it keeps up I’ll call the doctor tomorrow, but does anyone have any suggestions on anything I can do or take in the meantime?
Today’s gig recap:
