Tale of 50 cities

A tale of 50 cities:

Biography of a musician First installment

There's really no need to say exactly who I am, since I never wanted to be famous in the first place. The reason I never really wanted to be famous is that I spent my life around famous people, watched them suffer and try to regain their freedom, sanity and privacy.

If you wonder, I have been around and played with more stars than I can remember. Have won 5 battle of the bands contests (Not the small ones, but Budweiser, etc type contests). I have done many different annoying if not down right demeaning things with people everyone knows. Everyone from TG Sheppard to Alan Jackson, Big House to Exile. Not just the country stars, but even played in front of Qeensryche at an impromptu concert in New Mexico. I've had a grand old time in the last 35 years!

My name isn't important because I want to tell you about the experiences I've had. If you knew my name, you wouldn't get all exited anyway. Might just disappoint you. What I'm going to do is tell you about 35 years on the road as a musician.

Its not one of those professions where you sit around all the time. Its not boring. You do sleep a lot, but the rest of the time is what you make of it. Yes, drugs, rock and roll and women are a big part, but there is so much more!!!

So here starts my story. Its lots of disjointed short stories, most of them happen within one day.

My first memory in music starts with my dad buying me a tiny drum set. My fingers were too small still to play the guitar, but I would learn that later. This dad didn't skimp on fun. Mom played the piano, he played guitar and needed me to find a way to play drums, so I did. I learned harmony easy and drums actually. I wish I could tell you my first memory of music, but it involved my parents in a motel room when I was supposed to be asleep. Its a stark memory, and lets just say better left to my poor poor horrible mental issues that I have now.

I will try and keep this journal/ memories at least halfway readable by families, but I know it will digress, so keep that in mind...On second thought, fuck it. Most of the stories have adult themes, so you will have to censor this for kids. Most of this you don't want your kids to know about anyway! Nothing here is in order. I tell it as I remember it. I will give general years when I can remember them.

Story #2 (I told the the boring part already.)
I remember dad pulling us up to a bar we were supposed to play. This was in northern Michagan. We al walked in, I was maybe ten years old and there was nothing but teeth. Some idiot had booked us into a blues bar instead of a country bar. 150 black guys staring at us like they were going to kill us. Dad talked to the bartender, the bartenders actual words were to back out slowly and he would try and keep us safe on the way out. It was a very segregated time, and some places you just didn't go into, even as musicians. It wasn't really until years later that I understood the implications of that situation. We barely got out with our lives to be honest. Unless the bartender was just giving us shit. I will never know. I do remember the fear on my dad's face. We would have played the gig, but I doubt my dad's heart would have survived it! Lol

Story #3
I remember having a beautiful violin that someone had in pieces in a box that they gave to me. I spent weeks gluing back together. Didn't know how to play it but was happy to try. I tuned it like I did my guitar. (Sry for all the violin people out there wincing.) I learned to play it quite well with that tuning.
One night who should walk in but Doug Kershaw. For those of you that don't know him, he was a big star in those days for playing Louisiana style fiddle. He came into the bar with his band, sat down in front of us and they started giving us shit. Finally, Doug came up to the stage, walked up and told me I sucked at it. He grabbed my fiddle away from me and proceeded to show me how it was done. Little did he know that I tuned it totally different than the standard tuning, and he proceeded to make an ass out of himself!!! He couldn't play my violin at all! He stormed off the stage and took his band with him in total humiliation! I was in heaven that a star thought he was so baddass and left, tail between his legs. But like Trump, he never apologized or admitted he was wrong. But he was.

Story #4

Opening for Alan Jackson!
We were playing at the Grizzly Rose in Denver, a HUGE nightclub in Denver and we were opening for Alan Jackson. A name you should know if you know country music. We saw all the busses parked outside, knew he was probably in one of them but never really payed much attention because he was a star, and we were just there to open for him.

Suddenly some guy in an old T-shirt and jeans comes into our dressing room and apologizes for interrupting and asks us if its ok to stick around. We thought it was a roadie wanting some air conditioning. We said sure, of course and he talked about music and styles, lots of things normal. Then he just left.

We played our set and just as we were getting off stage, we here this motorcycle rumble. It gets louder and louder and all of a sudden before we could even get offstage, this man, the roadie lol drives this Harley up on stage, shuts it off and introduces himself as Alan Jackson. We were ALL blown away. We were dressed up to the nines in our best group shirts, he comes out just like he was in the dressing room. I lost respect for him that day. He didn't even try to dress up for his concert. He didn't even care how he looked. Such a big star but fuck everyone else, who cares how I look.

OK, we were shocked that we met Alan Jackson without even knowing it. It was a thrill postmortem. We spent years making ourselves look awesome, just to have a star not care at all about his.