Skip to main content

Back From The Dead...Why It's Called That

Ten years ago, we were recording and mixing our best-selling CD, "Back From The Dead". From what I understand, it's still selling well.

People have always asked if there's a story behind the title, as there's no correlating song. Well, yes Virginia, there is. At the time we recorded it, we had no clue what to call it. I pushed for "The Greatest Rock & Roll Record You Will Ever Hear Because Every Other Band Except The Blasters Sucks" but that got voted down. Go figure.

Anyhoo......at the time we were working on this disc (recorded to 2" tape, all analog, at Daveworld Studios, Home of Everyday Low Low Prices and produced by James Dougherty Jr., aka Dick Dorkerty) I was also performing at a lot of music festivals, especially down south. In July of that year, I do believe, we went to Jackson, TN to peform at our 3rd (and final) appearance at Henry Harrison's monumentous waste of time Rockabilly Hall of Fame Festival. Henry started out with a good thing but fucked it up worse and worse each year, so I finally gave up. But I digress...

At this particular festival, I met a young lady who I dated for the next year or two. She was a school teacher down in TN. Well, we were just smitten...that's a given. One weekend, in August of 2002, we were going to have a romantic getaway weekend in Nashville. I had a rare weekend off from gigging, she was due at a teacher conference for a day, but we had a room for the weekend, so we were ready for fun!

On the 1st night, we went out to dinner and long story short, I had an esophogeal spasm which resulted in a collapsed lung and reactive pneumonia. In short, I stopped breathing all-together. I died. I was dead for 7 minutes en route to the hospital. Luckily, paramedics can't call a death, only a doctor can. Even luckier, once at the hospital, the docs gave one last effort and they got my heart started again. I was in a coma and they had no idea when or if I would come out of it. The other major concern was that IF I came out of it, how much brain damage would I suffer due to no oxygen reaching my brain for 7 minutes. There was a strong likelihood that I'd be a vegetable. Luckily, I had good health insurance at the time, so I was covered for a lengthy stay.

I spent a week in the coma (although, according to hospital records, I was combative...and at one point broke a nurse's nose...but I was unconscious...so what do I know?). When I finally came out of it, I was still getting over the pneumonia that had settled into my lung...but seemed "OK". My girlfriend asked the doctor if I would still be able to play guitar. The docs had no real answer for her other than "wait and see".

I suffered some pretty severe memory loss but I've been lucky...my brain has remapped itself pretty well and I got probably a good 80-90% of it back.

A month or two later, my bassist, Rob, and I were back down in Nashville to pick up the master tapes from the mastering lab. It was rainy and dreary as we drove up I-40. As we were going to have the finished product in hand, we figured it was time to name this thing (as well as put together packaging and figure out how to sell it!). We tossed titles back and forth in the car. Nothing stuck. We'd already had an eponymously titled release...so we couldn't do THAT again. Then in one of my frequent moments of smart-assery...I just looked at Rob, laughed, and suggested we call the CD "Back From The Dead". I thought it sounded cool and also darkly funny for those who knew the story. It would also go well with the logo I had been designing (the skull with the flaming pompador over crossed Telecasters). We joked that we could title every following CD along the same lines: "Not Dead Yet", "Still Not Dead", etc... Although still not officially released, we have a disc called "7 More To Go"...a take on the 9 lives of cats and my then recent heart attack. Yes...I'm a sickly self-deprecating S.O.B.

So, if you ever wondered why the disc is called BACK FROM THE DEAD...now you know. And if you ever ask me about dying...I'll tell you. I've been there. It didn't live up to the hype. That said, I'm still a Christian and my faith is as strong as ever...I just think that some of the stories are a bit 'out there'. For those who have heard about the "light" and all the long dead relatives calling you on, etc...I think for many that is self-fulfilling prophecy and hallucination. When I died...I just ended. Period. No heaven, no hell, no angels, no demons, no nothing. I just ended.

Trust me...waking up a week later and realizing that I'd lost an entire week was far mor mind-blowing to me than any thoughts of lights, relatives, angel, or demons. Most of us only get one chance at life. Live well! Live happy! Don't wait for things to go your way. Make it happen.

Hmmmm...I guess one of these days I should release "7 More To Go". Then I can record the follow up..."Ain't Dead...Just Smells That Way"..........

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Tsar of Back in My Day

Lately, he’d been thinking about his ex-father-in-law. Not the ex-wife - calm down. That road had enough potholes already. No, this was about Kolya. They had never been especially close. Between the language barrier, the cultural divide, and the lingering fog of the recently ended Cold War, “warm relationship” was never really on the menu. Still, Kolya had made an impression. Men like that tended to. He was somewhere in his mid-to-late sixties when they met. Picture the farmer from American Gothic if he’d been drafted by the Soviet Union, fed boiled cabbage, and taught to glare professionally. Bald as a cannonball, which somehow made his head seem even larger. Thick square plastic eyeglasses magnified his eyes until they looked like a permanent accusation. He dressed sharply, but in a way that suggested the tailor’s motto had been adequate for the State . Then there were his teeth. No expert on the subject, he could only assume cosmetic dentistry had been dismissed by the Soviets a...

Fags & Faggots

 It was late February 2002, and I was getting ready for my first trip overseas.  I had lucked into a handful of gigs, and I was thrilled by the chance. I grew up watching lots of Hammer horror films, and almost any British show I could find. Monty Python's Flying Circus, The Benny Hill Show, Dave Allen, and Tommy Cooper were regular viewing thanks to public television. I spent plenty of time reading British literature, especially Arthur Conan Doyle. My maternal grandfather’s family was British, so it’s fair to say I was an Anglophile. I thought I had a pretty good understanding of “the Queen’s English.” I was well acquainted with terms like spanner, lorry, telly, and most hilarious to twelve-year-old me, fags (or cigarettes, for those unaware). I was under the mistaken impression that “wanker” could be used as a term of endearment, not unlike jagoff. I later found this to be…not quite accurate. I was admittedly concerned about the food. While I occasionally consider myself ad...

The Last Rick Roll

 Aging sucks. He found that out the hard way.  The beer and liquor no longer flowed. The pills didn't do the trick anymore. A lifetime of crafting tales that thrilled a generation - gone. The well ran dry.  It's the fear of every writer. What happens when the ideas stop coming? No mere 'writer's block' - the reality outside his door was more terrifying than any fictional fear or foe he could cobble together from his own neuroses and phobias.  The government had come clean. It didn't give a damn about the people, the laws, or anything else it was supposed to. It came down to two things: money and power. Enough of either one assured the other. The people could live or die, it didn't matter. There would always be someone to take their place. Someone who had no choice, no say.  The Constitution had all but been abolished. Decades of embedding partisan plants in the judiciary had guaranteed it. The media, before it was forced into piracy, claimed that it all happ...