Wednesday, August 31, 2022

TNS: What's In A Name?

*Note: People have said for years I should write a book. In reality, I'm too lazy and not interested in disturbing the sleeping demons. In the meantime, I'll occasionally post blurbs like this. - MM 

I like writing/playing/listening to instrumental music. Lyrics often, to me, get in the way of the song itself. In writing an instrumental, the toughest choice is what to call the piece of music. I rarely think about it until it's finished. Then, I consciously try to keep from sounding pathetically self-important. Music should be fun. The trick is to write and play with emotion without bogging down the listener with your bullshit. I recorded an instrumental piece on my BFTD album. Up until we were getting to release it, the song had no title other that "Jazzy Thing in D". That's how we discussed it in the band. 'Hey, let's do that jazzy thing in D again' 

It was eventually released as "The Incredibly Swingy Jazzy Thing in D" simply because I had to give it a name. Copyrighting, publishing, and the Library of Congress prefer things with actual titles...not just Masterpiece #73.

I've written/recorded/released a number of instrumentals. Some get the full treatment; some are just weird little things I record at home for my own enjoyment. A number of the weirder ones get uploaded to YouTube under the name Zufälligen Einbildungskraft (a name which came from a private joke with a friend in Italy). But one song, in particular, keeps taking on its own life. 

The aforementioned YouTube often leads me down rabbit holes of wonder. Sure, there's the occasional brick wall but I've found some great music there. Oddly enough, it often recommends my own music to me...even if I'm not logged in under my account. I guess that's kinda neat. I've seen a number of people add this particular song to their own playlists, often Halloween themed lists. Now THAT I enjoy! But back to the song...

My personal music tastes and influences are all over the place. Sure, I love old blues and rockabilly...but I also love Bulgarian folk music, Moroccan music, Vietnamese 78s from the 1920s-30s. I love all sorts of sounds and they all sneak into my music at some point.

This particular song started as just a little riff I started playing. I was still married at the time, that should give you some idea how long ago that was! (we divorced in 94) My then wife often pointed out that it sounded, to her, like gypsy music. I was A-OK with this. (I later discovered my own Romani heritage, so...who knew???) 

Bit by bit, I started to craft that little riff into a song. "OH NO! Not another damned song in E" was my first reaction to the almost finished piece. It's a curse I think most guitarists share. We often just naturally go to that E chord position. I tried it in a few other keys, but it didn't sound right in them, so I stuck with E. E minor to be more precise. 

I think I tried the song with The Rowdy Bovines once or twice, but that particular musical unit was already disintegrating, so I let it be. I was already working on a side project that eventually became The Legendary Tremblers, so I tried it with them. It worked better in a trio format. So, I finalized (or so I thought) the arrangement and BOOM, done. But it still didn't have a name.

I would refer to it as 'that gypsy sounding thing' if we'd discuss it during a rehearsal. For us, that worked, especially as the new project hadn't even done a single gig yet, let alone record anything. Remember, this was the analog days. Studios cost money and so did reels of tape. I didn't have the kind of money needed to book a studio for a "maybe one of these days" project. 

The Tremblers finally came together with a solid line-up and started booking shows. That 'gypsy sounding thing' had a solid place in our repertoire...it just didn't really have a name yet. 

By this point it was 1995, I was divorced, in my late 20s, working a steady day job, playing in a couple of bands, doing some road dates, and still the occasional studio session. Life was good. I had met a young lady that would come to our shows, and we became close friends, rather quickly. Nothing romantic ever came of it but everyone else assumed there had to be something there! One day she asked the question that many women have asked me: "Why haven't you written a song about ME?" Mind you, she was joking. As I recall, we had been discussing my writing process and she had even offered up some poetry as possible lyrics (sorry ladies, that rarely works with me. If I don't feel it, I can't write about it). In answering her question, I asked her "What makes you think I haven't written a song about you?" Dammit. Wrong answer to the wrong person. She called me on it. I laughed and said that no, I hadn't actually, but would try. As she always liked that 'gypsy sounding thing' I ended up naming it after her. It became "The Night Stalker" (as Stalker was her surname and we usually saw each other at night). I also loved the old TV show The Night Stalker, so I could actually remember the title!

Within two months of our first show, the band and I ended up doing a gig in Cleveland. My friend and mentor and sometime boss, Alan Leatherwood, suggested we come by his studio to record 'a demo or something'. I knew he really wanted to audition the rest of the band for possible backing work but I'm smart enough to take advantage of a good thing. I knew Al had a nice little studio set up at his house. I also was pretty cocksure that we could record a bunch of songs very quickly, in one or two takes (which we pretty much did). We tracked 10 songs in one session, on an extremely hot day, in a basement studio in Cleveland. We were all shirtless and sweating by the 3rd take, as the AC and/or fans made too much noise and we didn't want that on the recordings (and really, why would we?). Well damn, we had just recorded our first album!

I was less interested in releasing an album than actually having a demo tape to shop around for booking. So, once we had decent rough mixes of a couple of the songs, I put together some two song cassettes (I had landed a box of promo cassettes, at about 3-4 minutes per side, and was damned sure I was gonna use them for something!) with the song "Walk On" on one side, and "The Night Stalker" on the other. I erased the box of promo cassettes I had got my hands on and dubbed these songs on to them. I had a friend print me up some labels (some I just hand wrote) with the band name, song titles and contact phone number and got to the business of booking shows. Pretty soon we were gigging at least a few times every week for months. 

There were some issues with the final mix/mastering process. Digital was just becoming a thing you could feasibly do at a reasonable cost, so Al had picked up some digital gear. As we transferred the mastered songs to a DAT tape, long story short, he and the bass player decided to smoke a few bowls. I've never cared for the smell of the stuff, so I backed away from the board. BIG mistake on all of our parts. Things didn't sound right to ol' Cheech & Chong and they fiddled some knobs. Me, being half deaf, wasn't close enough to realize just how much it effected the overall mix. We ended up with, what to me sounded like, a very thin sounding mix. But it got released on Al's label and shortly thereafter, got pulled due to a cease-and-desist order. Enough cassette copies had gotten around, and we started to get some good press, especially overseas. I remember being sent magazines from Italy, Germany and of all places, New Zealand, where they raved about the album. By this point, I was already writing material for another album.

We had started tracking our next project when a friend of mine called me about adding some of our songs to a compilation disc. It was going to be an all-instrumental album. My friend was (and still is) really into surf stuff. We're not a surf band by any definition but sure, why not? We already had "The Night Stalker" in the can and had just recorded another instrumental ("Selena") so I sent those to my friend for consideration. I hadn't intended him to use those particular recordings. My plan was to beef them up to what I considered better sound quality but to my surprise, he stuck with the original tapes I sent. I guess the producer Don Dixon, was involved with the project and he edited the sound quality a bit. When Leatherwood heard the released CD, he was furious! ("They slowed the track down a whole step! It's in a completely different key now!") I really didn't mind; I was just less than thrilled about the quality of the tapes I had sent...but in the end it worked out. I do know that we got some airplay from it, the CD was on a number of jukeboxes, and I know that the band got at least one scathing review about the 'nearly MONO' sound quality of our tracks on the album. I chuckled when I read that. What's wrong with MONO? I happen to like MONO!

But the story doesn't end there. "The Night Stalker" became a fave with those who enjoy our music and our live performances. We played at a local club called Rosebud 183 times (according to my records) and we played it every time. My friend, the former house sound man, production manager, Kevin would always adjust the lights while we played that one. He loved it and called it The Blue Light Special. It always added an extra effect to this song. 

By the time the 21st century hit, we were still playing "The Night Stalker" at live shows. We had 4-5 releases out and it was on at least two of them. In 2002, along with a new rhythm section, I started recording the Back From The Dead album. We lucked out with financing and got to do this one right! 17 tracks, and yes, one was an instrumental (which a European reviewer likened my playing to my old friend Danny Gatton, so that was a compliment!). My friend, author/songwriter/producer/publisher/raconteur Billy Poore provided the liner notes. I had toured the UK for the first time that spring and was ready for more! This album, released in 2003, took me all the way down to Australia! And there is where the story continues.

Our drummer couldn't make the Australia tour. As we had little idea of just what was in store for us, we agreed to use a local. I figured my stuff is generally simple enough that any decent drummer could pick up on it in a jiffy. I was under the impression that we might play a couple of smallish pubs and by 'festival' I figured something small like a street fair or something. Boy was I wrong! 

Upon landing in Melbourne, we were taken on a quick trip around town, then a quick meeting at the tour manager's house (thank God for his coffee!). We then dropped the bass player (Rob) off at the hotel. No such luxury for this old dog. I got to go do a couple of meet & greets and a couple of radio interviews (one where I fell asleep midsentence due to exhaustion). I was surprised at how well received we were. I was aware that I had ruffled the feathers of one local promoter before I even landed. It had been brought to my attention that he was talking shit about us, most likely because we went with a different promoter...but I digress. (I'll add that when he and I did meet, he acted a bit like a sheepish little bitch, especially when I called him out on some of his quotes, in front of a room full of punters) 

On Day 2, we met the drummer. Brian Francis was and is, in my estimation, THE drummer for my more rockabillyish stuff. HE GETS IT! He's a natural for my way of playing. We got a couple of one-two hour rehearsals in. Mostly just getting the feel, the intros and outros, any weird stops. He got it all perfectly fine. I really don't like rehearsing. I never have. I like improvisation. Keep it fresh! Keep it lively! Brian was on top of it! He and Rob played together like they'd been doing it for years. 

We landed on a Tuesday. Our first show was on a Saturday. Plenty of time for me to get in trouble, which I did. I'll write about that another time. Friday morning came and I was nowhere to be found. Eventually, a very drunk me showed up at the hotel demanding toast. We were supposed to be on the road an hour ago! They poured me into the back of a vehicle, where I passed out and slept until we reached Lake's Entrance (4 hours away). While not hungover, and having slept on my pile of toast, I was hungry. Brian gave me LOTS of good-natured ribbing over the state I was in. I knew I liked this guy. After what seemed like a month in the car, we got to Narooma,NSW, for our first Aussie shows. 

I wasn't expecting this. It was huge! 3 big stages, each with bigger names than ours, I was really feeling a bit of the ol' Imposter Syndrome. But I'd played big shows before, so we just did our thing. Luckily, Rob brought along some digital recording gear and got the soundman to record out first show (later released as LIVE IN AUSTRALIA on Cracked Piston Records). The show went great with one minor exception. As I went into the intro to "The Night Stalker", Brian went into a different beat. UH OH! I looked back at him to try to get him on track, but he was playing what he was playing, so I had a choice: Stop the song and restart OR adapt. I opted for the latter. I looked over at Rob (who has an uncanny ability to follow whatever goofy shit I start playing) and I rewrote the song, live onstage, in front of 8,000 very enthusiastic Aussies. Disaster averted and damn, it went down a treat! 

When the live album came out, we edited out the oops at the beginning, titled it something like "Night Stalker 03" and honestly, I became obsessed with Brian's version. I knew that one of these days, I wanted to redo the song with his beat. In 2007, Brian came to visit, and I got him into the studio and broke his recording cherry. How a drummer of his caliber had never done studio work mystified me. He and I tracked 16-17 songs in about 3 hours. Unfortunately, we forgot to record his version of "The Night Stalker". Dammit!

Fast forward a few years. I'd pretty much stopped touring. I'd had a heart attack and a second bout of cancer. My life was in a series of rough patches. I had discussed with my friends Joe and George about recording a side project that Joe had come up with, based on our mutual love of old classic horror films, sci fi, etc. Losers After Midnight was born! What was initially just going to be a one-off EP, we ended up releasing an EP and a full-length album. (probably more to come too) I told the guys I wanted to redo "The Night Stalker" but with Brian's beat. It reminded me of the Al Caiola version of the Mancini classic "Experiment In Terror" that was used as the theme song to local Saturday night fright flick classic Chilly Billy's Chiller Theater. They guys were up for it, so we did it! And I have to say, we did it well! So well, I renamed it "Nightstalker Twist". I've been seeing that version popping up in a few playlists lately, so I'm obviously not the only who digs it.

If you've read this far, Thank You. You've probably earned a drink. Feel free to check out a couple different versions of "The Night Stalker". I've added the original Alan Leatherwood mix as well as the Losers After Midnight version. Enjoy!

THE NIGHT STALKER - ORIGINAL ALAN LEATHERWOOD MIX

LOSERS AFTER MIDNIGHT - NIGHTSTALKER TWIST

Sunday, August 21, 2022

Just A Ramble on Death & Dying

 To hear my friends tell it, they're all going to hell. As they all keep leaving me behind, I get the feeling the joint's gonna be full before I get there.

Now before anyone throws in their two cents worth on the subject of death, dying and the afterlife, you can just stop. Having once been declared dead, I have a bit of unique perspective and a minor level of expertise. Many have asked me "What happens?" Simply put, I don't have the words to describe it, but I can tell you, it ain't the crap you see on TV or read about in your favorite periodical.

I buried my dad earlier this week. I feel like I'm failing at grief at this point. He was just shy of 88 years old. He'd lived a long life, and more importantly I guess, he lived it the way he wanted to. I think I should feel sadder than I do. We were never as close as I would have liked, but he was still my dad. If you think you're going to read horror stories about a shitty childhood, sorry, not happening here. I was lucky that I got to tell my dad that I loved him, and I think we both knew that last good-bye was indeed the last one. We both had smiles on our faces. When it comes to the end, that's how it should be. Sobbing is for those who didn't give it all they could. Fair to say, I did. It might not have ever worked out how I wanted but that's just sometimes how it goes. I know he's at peace, real peace; so that gives me comfort.

I was supposed to be gigging in Cleveland, OH tonight at a tribute for my friend and mentor Alan Leatherwood. He passed back in June after complications from a stroke. That one hit hard and hurt like a sumbitch. Al was my friend. He was damned near family. When I had my heart attack, he called me and told me "Parents aren't supposed to outlive their kids". He was letting me know that I was like a son to him and that meant a lot. He taught me a large chunk of everything I know about the music industry, recording, writing, publishing, etc. I hope he's having a cocktail with Sam Phillips tonight. A lot of stories could go back and forth between those two. 

His passing probably should have hit me even harder than it did but again, I've lost so many dear friends and family this year that I'm really about numb to it. That's a horrible way to feel. I'm fully aware of the empty spaces now filling my existence by each of their passing. Any time the phone rings, or I check my email, or hop onto social media, I'm immediately struck by so many absences. 

The past two years have been filled with death after death in my private little world. Old friends, family, past lovers...they just keep dropping and leaving me behind. Knowing that I'll never see their faces or get to talk to them again...it's a repeated kick in the nads. Talk about a reality check. Sure, as we get older, we tend to check the obituaries a bit more often, but dammit, I'm only in my 50s. This has been way too many, way too soon. 

When an auntie of mine was 85, she told me, "Don't live this long. You run out of money and everyone you really care about is gone. The ones left are usually assholes."  Today, I'm starting to understand that bit of advice. I don't believe there's an excess of assholes in my life, but I understand more clearly now the difference between the people I'm truly close with and everyone else. Doesn't mean I've closed the door on becoming closer with people. Some will just always hold a higher place in my personal Top 10. It doesn't mean we don't try.

My faith has definitely helped me through all of this. Chances are that my faith has given me peace and the ability to see the passing of so many friends, family and lovers in a clear light. Death is inevitable. We're all gonna die. Some of us more than once. Faith does not, however, erase the sting. It just eases the pain a bit. We're never fully ready to lose someone. Never.

We might think we are...until the moment comes. 

Like I said, sobbing is for those who didn't give it all they could. Too often, we make the mistake of believing we have something we don't, time. I'll call later.   I'll send a card tomorrow.   I'm busy today. If you can't make time for those you love, you deserve all the grief you get. We mourn our lost chances. We grieve for the things we didn't say and do. When someone enters our lives and shares love, that is really more important than any meeting, any appointment, any TV show, etc. No one has ever drawn their last breath wishing they'd spent more time at the office. You'll never have enough money or enough time, but you will eventually run out of both. You'll never have enough love in your life either. What's important is what you do with it. Plant that seed and grow a forest. 

I'll leave you dear readers with a couple of quotes that, while simple, scream volumes. I hope you look up their authors and the origin of the quotes.

"Enjoy every sandwich." - Warren Zevon

"Everything we experience is a gift, a present we should cherish and pass on to those we love."  - Alice Herz-Sommer