Thanksgivus 2021

 I bet you thought I wasn't gonna post this year! Ha! Fat chance!

It's been a crazy year for sure but still heaps to be thankful for. That I'm still alive and kicking is definitely in the top 3. I hope YOU have many things to be thankful for. If you're not sure, stop and think about those less fortunate. You'll quickly realize it all ain't so bad. Just don't have a stroke. Those suck. And now...the annual post.

Thanksgivus: that's what she called it. The 'she' in question would be a very short, loud, middle aged black woman with retardation who I supervised for years. Her name is Omega...fitting because she truly is THE END!

Omega didn't exactly have a speech problem but I think her hearing wasn't 100% on the mark, as certain words would get slurred together such as "Thanksgivus". Another fave was her version of Social Security, which often sounded more like "sociable secretary" (of which I've known a few).

Thanksgivus (which is what I now prefer to call the US holiday Thanksgiving) is the last Thursday of November (this is for my overseas friends who may not be fully knowledgeable of the subject). It is the holiday where we Americans give Thanks to God for giving us BIG tasty birds, punkin pie & cranberry sauce...all courtesy of a tribe that we soon took great pains to wipe out. In short, when those Pilgrims (essentially English religious nuts) 1st landed at Plymouth Rock, they didn't have a CLUE what they were doing or what they were in for!

After that 1st winter (what do you mean "No Central Heating"???), most of the Pilgrims had died off. A few hearty ones remained (probably by eating the others...but that story seems to have vanished in the annals of history) and it was looking bleak for them, as they didn't know SQUAT about farming North American soil. Luckily, the Indians (bite me, I will NOT be PC) took pity on them, showed them what to do and the Pilgrims survived. They did sooo well, in fact, they had a big feast and invited the Indians. When the Indians showed up, they realized that white folks are either really bad at planning feasts or are just stingy, so they sent some braves to go kill a half dozen or so deer....gotta make sure ya don't leave the table unless yer ready to burst....STILL an American Thanksgivus tradition. NOWHERE on the menu was green bean casserole....PLEASE make note of that! (the Americans reading this will get the humor)

Finally, sometime in the 19th century, after decades of confusion as to what this "New England" holiday was and when it was supposed to be observed, some mad woman wrote everyone in the colonies suggesting the last Thursday in November...just in time to mark the start of Xmas shopping season!

Now, contrary to what some of my English colleagues have been lead to believe, Thanksgivus is NOT the American Xmas. Trust me, NO ONE on this planet overdoes Xmas like the Americans! Here it is, the Sunday BEFORE Thanksgivus and I'm looking out my front door at my neighbor's Xmas lights! 1 month 5 days before we celebrate the Man's b-day (even though we have the date wrong)...1 month 5 days of looking at those damned lights! Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays as much if not more than most people...but I like things to be done for the right reasons...not just to be the 1st, best or brashest.

For the holidays, I wish you all peace, happiness and a full belly. May your homes be filled with laughter (and not just the canned version coming from your TV). May your pockets never be empty, maybe your fridge always be full (with at least 1 6pack of decent beer...in case I should stop by lol) and may your troubles be few & far between.

In fact, I don't just wish you these things for the holidays...I wish them for you all EVERYDAY.

I'm having a few friends over (as usual) this year for Thanksgivus (2021 - actually, the better half's mum and brothers...thats it this year) . It might not be the fanciest dinner but I hope to guarantee all a good meal, a full belly and someplace to sit and digest and enjoy some good company after (and before...as long as they stay OUTTA MY WAY in the kitchen.).

We will revel in the death of a turkey. We shall take delight in the taters, which will be mashed. The rolls will hopefully not be slightly burned on the bottoms (2021 making honey butter crescents this year!) ...but if they are, that's what butter, gravy & butter knives are for! The veggies will be plentiful and not overcooked. The pie will be chocolate cream...NOT PUNKIN! (my tradition...not yours, OK? ) And yes Virginia...there will most likely be cranberries of some sort...JUST NO DAMNED GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE...PLEASE!

Thank You For Giving Me A Chance!

The passage of time ultimately comes with the passing of friends and loved ones. It's the nature of things. We all die sometime. It's never easy to deal with for those left behind. 

I'm not exactly young and I've definitely passed my share of caskets. It never gets easier.

Today I was informed of the death of my friend and one-time UK booking agent Mike "2 Tone" Russell. He was in his 70s and his health hadn't been great for some time but damn, you're just never really ready to hear it. 

I can tell you lots of things about him. He loved 50s rock & roll. He loved rockabilly. He dug the whole old school Teddy Boy scene. He dug old cars. I doubt he loved anything as much as fishing for carp! (to those of us in the US, I know just how bizarre that sounds. No, he didn't eat them. In the UK, especially in Wales, carp fishing is all about catch & release. Very humane really.) He had a carp nemesis, Buster, who resided in a muddy pond just outside of Cardiff. Buster was a big ol' sumbitch and you had to be tough and crafty to land him. Mike did on a couple of occasions. I like to think Buster had the same respect for Mike that he had for Buster.

I could tell you lots of stories. Tales of his wild youth, our visit with 'the world's oldest hippie', loads of drinking stories, etc. I could tell you of the kindness he so often showed. He would hate me destroying his perceived tough guy image like that, so I'll try not to.

If Mike Russell did nothing else during his 70+ years, he completely changed MY life and its direction...simply by offering me a chance. Had it not been for him and his faith that the folks in the UK would like my music, I probably never would have toured overseas. Sure, I'd already toured most of the southern 48 and a few spots in Canada and Mexico but going across the pond is different. For starters, ya can't just drive there. As similar as people everywhere may be, going overseas, expecially for a musician, is a big deal. If it weren't for Mike, I probably never would have had the opportunity.

Let's face facts: I'm not everyone's cuppa. I'm a short, fat, (usually) loud guitar picker from Pittsburgh. I'm the least trendy person on the planet. Musically I don't fit anywhere. Too bluesy for rockabilly, too hillbilly for blues, and too damned loud/annoying/punk for the lot. My 2nd or 3rd show in the UK, I heard an old Ted refer to me as "too loud, too frantic" and my favorite, "practically punk!" (which was definitely not a compliment). I've had more than my share of oddball success but Lord only knows how or why. I've done thousands of shows, hundreds of hours of studio work, and pissed off more industry types than most will ever get the chance to. The 1st time I was offered a contract I actually read the damned thing. I flatly said NO, much to the chagrin of my bandmates. My writing, primitive as it is, was what was wanted. It was deemed to be of some commercial value and the company wanted control of it. Not a chunk of it. All of it. I've said NO to a number of different labels since then. I've had A&R and PR types try to get me to change my look, my sound, my hair. I had one guy tell me if I lost 30 pounds he could get me this and that. If memory serves, I spit beer on his shirt...but I digress.

RHOF 2001

I met Mike Russell at the 2nd annual Rockabilly Hall of Fame fest in Jackson, TN. He and his (then) wife June had made the trip to the states for the 3 day festival. I had been scheduled to perform with 2 acts. I ended up performing with all but maybe 2! It seems that no bass players managed to find the venue. Word got out that I could play. Every time I stepped off stage, I was stopped and asked if I could sit in with so & so. A bass would be handed to me and back up I went. Made for a long weekend. 

During one of my few breaks, I was having a beer and this older, VERY rock & roll looking couple asked if they could join me. They told me they enjoyed my playing and were impressed that I was gigging with everyone. They were really surprised to find out I was just winging it. We had a few beers, and chatted until I was due back onstage. We chatted throughout the weekend and made plans to keep in touch. Mike really liked a song I played for him ("Diamonds & Cadillacs") and asked if I had a recording of it. I thought I'd recorded it but hadn't. I later released a live CD which included it, and there's where it all came together. We were both pretty new to the wonderful world of email back then but we managed to stay in touch.

Mike was a disc jockey. He had an occasional radio show, plus he DJ'ed at rock and roll clubs, concerts, festivals, etc. He played my stuff and folks seemed to like it.  He started asking if I'd want to do some shows in the UK. I was thrilled at the idea but had lots of questions. This was not long after 9/11 so airfares were pretty low. It was still gonna cost a bit. Did he want me to bring the band? How many shows? How much were we gonna make? Did I need a work visa? 

We decided to keep it simple. A handful of shows in England and Wales, different bands would back me, they (allegedly) would know my stuff (most didn't). I'd stay at Mike and June's house in Cardiff and it was like a crazy road trip with a wild aunt and uncle. I did shows in Wellingborough, Cardiff, Newport, Barry, and Cleethorpes. I got sick as a dog in London. I met a ton of people, made some good friends and good contacts and those few weeks completely changed the direction of my life. People in the states took me (slightly) more seriously. I started to get calls and emails from all over to do shows. Later that year we recorded the BACK FROM THE DEAD disc, headed to Australia and my world got crazier. I was playing to thousands a night. I still tried to balance living in both the 'normal' world and the musician world. By age 40, I was pretty literally falling apart from it...but I can tell you I wouldn't change a damned minute of it. 

All of the blessings I've had in the past 20 years, I can trace them back to that crazy Welshman (ok, he was a Brummy but he'd tell you he was Welsh) taking an interest and offering me a chance. It's amazing what one person can do without even realizing it. 

Rest easy my friend. You definitely earned it. I'm sure the ol' Staffie Mob was there to greet ya. You will be missed, as irritating as you could be. It was my honor and privilige to have known you and called you my friend. Gorffwys Mewn Heddwch!

Some Tips On How To Master An Instrument

 Some Tips On How To Master An Instrument 

* find the instrument that speaks the language you comprehend 

* if you believe you "can't", you won't. If you push yourself,  you'll do just fine. 

* you will start at the beginning,  just like everyone else. 

* you will progress at your own pace.   

* you will find obstacles in your way. You can either give up or learn how to overcome. 

* you will not always remember everything every time.

* learn to make sounds before notes,  chords, arpeggios.  It took you years to learn how to speak.  This won't happen overnight either. 

* it will be difficult at times.  Learn to enjoy those times. 

* practicing is fine.  Playing is better and often more productive. 

* learn to play with others 

* learn to understand and appreciate the space between notes 

* mistakes happen. Pay attention to them. They might teach you something cool.

* you probably won't become rich and famous. Be thankful for that. 

* you will have good days, bad days and everything in between.

* listen to others but find your own style. Speak in your own voice. 

* be honest, humble and proud. 

* keep pushing yourself 

* there's always someone better 

* it's OK to ask for help 

* not everyone is going to enjoy your music 

* music is music,  there's no good or bad music. You won't enjoy everything you hear but take the time to appreciate it 

* don't compare yourself to others 

* getting paid is nice but play music because it means something to you 

* you will never be compensated for a life of music.  The music itself is the only guarantee and that too may pass 

* keep your word - to yourself and others 

Keep Playing

I was asked this morning to write another article for a magazine that I used to write for. The timing was perfect as I'd received some news that put me in a contemplative mood. That, for me, usually equates to 'getting into writing mode'. 

OK, I finished the article and emailed it. Still in writing mode...so time to empty the brain a bit. What better subject than GUITAR? I thought you'd agree (and if you don't, neener neener).

I'm supposed to record some bass lines for a friend's project later. I enjoy playing bass. Always have. Some might even say I'm good at it. That particular instrument is a nice change in how I approach a song. While I've played guitar for over 40 years, I've only been primarily a guitarist for just over 30. Those other years were spent thumping basses. 

Regarding guitar, many have noted that I have my own style. I'm told that people can hear a recording and know if its me. Whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen. I can, however, explain why my sound/style/whatever is my own. Laziness.

I have just never been able to concentrate on studying someone else's guitar parts. Sure, I HAVE done it but prefer not to. Its laziness, really. I'll be sitting there trying to learn the part...but then I think "gee, what if I go here instead" and go a whole other direction, forgetting about the song I'm playing, and zone in on something else entirely. This level of thinking has definitely helped my improvisation skills. That was always handy in bands where I'd be told by the person fronting the band to "keep playing". This often happens because that person has forgotten the words to the next verse, needs more time to get a beer, or in one notable occasion, had to literally jump off the stage and run to the bathroom due to a bit of extreme gastrointestinal distress. It is rarely because what I'm playing is so entertaining or masterful. I know this. I'm the guy playing it. I'm the guy having to wing his way through another lengthy solo when I know damned well I should just be chopping along playing the chords. 

This has led many to believe that I ENJOY doing these long solos. Again, no, I do not. I'd prefer to say (musically) what I have to say and then proceed with the song. I rarely find myself onstage with another soloist, so I get stuck doing it. "Keep playing!" They almost never bring me a beer for it. I guess the perceived glory should be enough. I'm not a jazz player. Grinding out improv after improv isn't as fun as it sounds. But I've learned to do it. 

I just uploaded an old live tune to the YinzTube. The recording is almost 30 years old. Sounds pretty high energy but also, at least to me, drunk and sloppy. I can hear where I would have liked to end the solo but also where I was prodded to 'keep playing'. I just started throwing in bits from other songs because I wasn't flooded with ideas at the moment. This was most likely because I'd had to do just that a dozen times already. If my memory serves me, I was probably being fed 'goodies' by a lady friend while onstage, so my brain may have also just stopped functioning at a proper level. 

At that point in life, I had learned to mix lead parts with rhythm parts, thus giving the front person all of the freedom to put on the best show possible, without having to also play rhythm guitar. Alas, this led to more 'keep playing' moments. Luckily, I try to find the lesson in everything. I'm probably lucky that I got all those 'keep playing' moments. They probably made me a better musician. 

I think back to the gear I was using then. I still have the guitars. I don't use them often but they're in better shape now than they were then. Back then, duct tape was key to getting through any given show. Switches would break, pickups would be falling out, knobs malfunctioning, speakers in various states of repair. (FYI, clear nail polish or wood glue works better than duct tape for this) That I was able to play all of those shows with such beat up gear is, at least to me, chuckleworthy. It wasn't cheap, shoddy gear. It just got beat up from constant gigging and unfortunately infrequent trips to the repair shop. That particular amp (an early blackface Fender Super) cost me $110 at a pawn shop. I later sold it for much more to a pretty well known picker. My main guitar then was an old Telecaster Deluxe. I bought it when I was 15 and still have it almost 40 years later. Its mostly been retired except for the odd studio session. One of these days I'll take it to a real pro and get it back in tip top shape. Until then, I have plenty of other guitars to get the job done. 

But I keep playing. Up until the plague hit, I was gigging regularly with a blues singer. Luckily, he could also solo. But alas, the "Keep Playing!" moments continued. And usually for the same reasons. Depending on the song and the show, I'd usually 'keep playing' but occasionally would just say NO. I had big ol' chords to throw in behind the vocals or his solos. That was more fun anyway. Yet people can still recognize my playing. I occasionally would come up with a solo for a song and stick with it. But rarely. I'd become comfortable in improvising. It became my comfort zone. I've found that I do that on bass too. I really can't think of many songs that I've actually learned the bass lines to...but there have been a few. On guitar, there was only ever one solo I learned note for note. Literally nothing else worked! Trust me, I tried. I really did not want to force myself to sit down and learn it. It wasn't that I couldn't...I just know my brain well enough. I knew it would take much longer than just winging a solo. And it did. Took me about an hour. This particular solo isn't exactly difficult. Its pretty easy in fact. Its a real credit to the original guitarist's mastery on the instrument and his solos. Since then, I've gone back and listened to much more of his work. He's a truly crafty SOB. He's not burning up the fret board or anything. He's playing just what needs to be there. Nothing more. Nothing less. And nothing else will do! So, I guess until the time comes that I learn that particular lesson, I'll just have to keep playing. 

In the meantime, go check out some Don Leady.