Peace. Hope. Love.

The holiday gigs are, for the most part, completed. It's a tough month and a half for me and my band. Most of the corporate gigs we do are for people/companies I've known for some time, and though they normally treat us very well, it still becomes a bit exhausting - mentally and physically - playing a large amount of gigs in a short amount of time with four guys in a band who alternate between liking and wanting to kill one another.

My band and I did our last "official" holiday performance last Saturday (we've got a handful of club dates left in the month, followed by a New Year's celebration). After a pretty tough six weeks of corporate gigs, I was looking forward to finishing up the holiday gig checklist and winding down a bit.

This last gig was for my hometown of Laguna Hills, California, and was literally within a one-minute walking time from my house. We performed in the middle of a huge park (part of the reason I bought the house in this particular neighborhood), for an event the City of Laguna Hills puts on every year - their "Holiday Hay Ride." Families from all over town - close to 1,000 people - come to see Santa, play games, sit on haystacks by warm fires, eat a bunch of great food, take in some live music and take a ride in a huge hay cart pulled by two enormous horses.

The band's stage was decorated with Christmas trees, packages, candy, you name it. It was really, really festive. Before we played one note - even when we had a few small problems with the electrical (which the staff fixed and did a terrific job of it) - I had this amazing feeling. What brought it on? Especially at the end of a tough stretch of gigs? It was a combination of playing for the home crowd, seeing so many of my friends and neighbors, taking in all the decorations and doing something really cool for my home town.

When the sun went down, the lights went up - every single tree surrounding the stage was lit with beautiful Christmas lights. That was it for me. Everything that playing so many gigs in such a short time brings - sore knees, raw throat, aches and pains, band tension, fatigue and the prospect of playing the same songs - melted away.

I was, truly, awash in the pure joy and all the wonderful things Christmas brings with it. Community. Unselfishness. A child's sense of wonderment and awe. Peace. Love. I felt this amazing joy, a happiness that just kept building. I could NOT wipe the smile off my face - and frankly, I didn't want to anyway.

We live in cynical times. Our leaders are liars and inept, our world burning down like a candle, things cost too much, we don't trust one another and it seems like there's no end in sight to the sorrow we ourselves have created and encouraged. But on that Saturday night, in and for the City of Laguna Hills, California - for those moments, when I sang and stared out at the trees lit with a million tiny stars - when I looked at my community being together, laughing together, celebrating together - when I watched the children who danced and sang with no preconceived notions about skill level or who they needed to impress...they danced and sang because they just couldn't contain their happiness...

...I was filled with a hope and love more powerful than I can ever describe.

Thank you, Laguna Hills.

Lexicon, Part Deux

And THIS is what I meant to blog today - more lexicon additions:

Who's that?
Bitch or snitch.
How much per minute?
Flatsky and Spubes.
I know all but three.
Vino it up
Rudy the Red D--err, BEAKED Reindeer
You're not a member of the club!

And of course, we're spreading the holiday cheer among one another:

"Did you have a nice Thanksgiving? We didn't, falcon falcon!"

Back Up to See Closer

Like every year, as the holiday season presses on (and why, oh why can't we just have peace on earth and goodwill towards men 365 days a year? Is it THAT big a deal?), I start figuring out my approach for the new year. Normally this means getting the gigs lined up, blocking out the "dibs" section on the calendar for gigs not yet (but will be) booked, reviewing the song list to see what to scratch, what to keep, what to work on and what to add and deciding how to best open up new frontiers. Busy time, considering I'm juggling the day gig, playing the night gigs and somehow squeezing in Christmas shopping and the inevitable (and welcome) socializing the holiday season brings.

This year's a bit different though. As I look to a fresh, new year, I'm pretty jacked up about trying something new. So, in addition to my current cover band I'm putting together a second cover band to play in '08.

It's been eight years since I put a band together from nothing, but back then it was more nerve wracking. I mean, not only did I make the choice to walk away from a financial and musical powerhouse with A-list players (one Grammy-nominated, one currently touring with Carly Simon and who'd recorded with Rod Stewart), but I'd made up my mind to start from scratch. I wouldn't use ANYONE I'd played with before, so no one could tell me what MY band needed to be or sound like. No arguments. No preconceived notions. Of course, I also got all the stress and extra work that comes with singlehandedly putting a new band together.

All of this, while I was booking gigs for a band that didn't exist. Yikes.

But that's the benefit of looking back at that stressful time. I can now avoid the bumps and pitfalls - this isn't "wing and a prayer" time anymore. Grinding it out eight years ago means I now know exactly what the clients want, what I think is going to work and what the band's temperament should be.

So, in '08, I'll be talking to you a bit more about the new twist on my old theme. It's gonna be a blast.

Decking the Halls w/o Decking One Another

The holiday season is crazy busy for a good cover band. This is the time of year every company, city, club and group of friends throw a holiday celebration, and they're looking for a good cover band to entertain the gang. Luckily for me, my band's pretty good - and I've made such great friends who're also great contacts over the years, and they consistently come to me for entertainment (THANKS everybody!) - that our holiday time is pretty busy.

Of course, the downside to this (and I'm sure it applies to any group- not just a band) is spending TOO MUCH time with the same people for about six weeks. When you factor in added pressure (a cover band has to REALLY be on its game for the holidays) with fatigue (I work 50+ hours a week in addition to running the band) with the sort of contempt that familiarity brings (four guys with four opinions seeing one another more often than any other time of year) you come up with a tasty holiday treat (aka toxic brew) called Band Tension.

And that's the irony of playing gigs at this particular time of year. I mean, the holidays are supposed to invite peace, love, patience and goodwill towards one another, right? Not always - at least not on a bandstand. One player gets pissed at another for playing too slow or too fast. Meanwhile, the slow/fast player is pissed at the complainer because he keeps screwing up the same changes in the same songs over and over. Meanwhile, another guy's pissed at the first guy because the transitions aren't quick enough, and the first guy's pissed at THAT guy because that guy pushes the transitions only when it's convenient for him. Meanwhile, EVERYBODY'S pissed at another guy who's being a bit too spontaneous with changes, and that guy's pissed at everybody else because they sound sloppy or are bitching about random things.

Granted, that last paragraph's chock full of gobbledegook, and is a (mostly) fictional account of a band's holiday dynamic, but believe me when I say those grumblings, gripes and cold-dagger stares are multiplied to the nth degree this time of year. I know I'VE been pissed off, and I'm sure the guys in my band have been pissed at me and with one another (it's like getting little ice slivers shot at my shoulder blades). Anyway, I'm kind of basing this theory on empirical evidence, mind you - just what I see with my eyes, hear with my ears and feel with my body.

So, what to do? Just grind through it, man. Do the work. Be professional. Give the client the best you have, no questions asked. Eventually, it all shakes out anyway - December passes and a new year begins with new challenges, new sounds/flavors and new vibes and personalities. It's all good.

The Worst Blogger in the History of Blog Kind

Yes...I'm THAT bad.

"Gee," you guys mumble at a gig, "why aren't you blogging anymore?"

And it's true - I haven't come near this page for about three months (!). Why? Well, it's the old "the devil you know is worse than the devil you don't" - it's all about the day gig, running my band, working to finish my first completely solo record, writing on the side, etc. Plus, I spend nine hours a day writing - that's what my day gig IS.

In short, it's about TIME - that is, finding time to put my thoughts down in an entertaining and coherent way.

Plus, I guess I'm not your average blogger. Although I have no problem discussing my spin on the comings and goings of running a cover band, or how certain books/movies/songs/etc. can always translate into metaphor about being a musician, I don't want to dig too deep about certain things. It comes across as narcissistic and pathetic, y'know? Besides, some of my REAL bitching and gripes regarding bands, music and musicians are better off NOT being made public. I can be opinionated and assertive, but I'm no fan of public castrations.

(Yes - that means when I'm pissed at someone, or if someone in my band's acting like a primadonna, jackhole, rock star, hypocrite, fake or a combination I won't spill the specifics. Maybe in a general way, but that's as far as I like to go on the internet.)

Which means...what? Well, it means I'll still document what happens in a cover band, what my expectations are and how to keep things moving forward.

I CAN tell you this: beginning in '08 I'm probably going to start a SECOND cover band, and use that one for certain gigs. Why? Well, I need guys who all want to do and play the same type of music without any eye rolling or mumbling "if you say so." Who understand what he or she is supposed to do and embrace that role. Who appreciate the work BEFORE the gig.

OK - so, my promise to get out here a few times a week and give you the blurb. I hope you enjoy it, and if so don't be shy - comment, and let me know what you think.

300? Try Five

OK - I think the movie "300" is terrific. It's beautifully shot, moves at a quick pace, provides some great fight scenes and tons of action and is packed with enough (cartoonish?) violence to make any dude shout "boo-ya!" It's also eminently quotable - I can't tell you how many times I've said "Tonight we dine in HELL!" or "Immortals - we'll put their name to the test!" or the classic "This...is...SPARTA!"

Anyway, you've probably seen the movie or know about the Battle of Thermopylae - 300 hundred Spartans (and 900 Spartan serfs) held back a far larger Persian army (estimated between 200,000 and 500,000 men) for about three days. In the aftermath all of the Spartans (save two) were killed - however, better than 20,000 Persians died during those three days. Not a bad last stand.

Of course, this battle is legendary and illustrates the power of bravery, the strength of working in tandem/unison, belief in each other and dedication to a higher purpose.

Hm...sound a lot like...

A COVER BAND! (Da Da Daaaaaaaaaaa!)

There you stand - the five of you facing a much larger crowd. It's a battle of strength and will. They challenge you - call you out, goad you on, demand you prove your skill. Essentially, they're WAITING for you to fail. And if you should give in to weakness? To dissension within the ranks? Death - in terms of kissing the gig good-bye - awaits you.

Ah - but YOUR band is different. Your band welcomes the challenge. You know those to your left, right, in front and behind will bring their powers to bear. There will be no dissension, for each person knows the role to be played. You're ready to make the sacrifices needed to reach the next level. It doesn't matter how you achieve the goal - yours is a higher purpose...to stand in front of this ravenous crowd, wield your weapons with the utmost skill...

...and kill each and every one of them.

That, my friends, is a GREAT cover band.

The Cover Band Lexicon, etc.

I've mentioned in a few blogs the need - hell, the absolute NECESSITY - to feel good and laugh while playing music. Sharing smiles with your band is a GREAT way to release pressure and turn a crummy gig into something pretty fun. Also, the crowd/your clients love nothing more than to see the band enjoy itself - they WANT to know you're having fun and are into the gig as much as they are.

In my band, we share little on-stage asides - someone will throw a quick "Chuck Conner" face, or do what we call a "TF" (another silly expression). Maybe the bass player will do a "heavy metal pose" for a split second while we're playing a beautiful ballad. Many times I'll change a word or two in a lyric, knowing the crowd won't hear it but the band will, all for the chance of making them crack up. It's a blast, and keeps things loose and light.

One thing we've developed in my band is this odd little lexicon - code words and phrases for things going on around us. This is our way of pointing things out to one another while putting a weird spin on them. For example: how many times has YOUR drummer called you over to say "Gilda Radner has a cigarette holder!" during a gig? Here's the funny part about it: Gilda Radner wasn't at the gig (unless it was in spirit), and the person Rob (the drummer) was talking about didn't even smoke. Still, I IMMEDIATELY knew what he was talking about, and laughed until my stomach hurt.

Now, prepare yourself as I take you into the dark and secret underworld of the Party Jones On-Stage Lexicon. Of course, I can't tell you what these ultra-secret code words REALLY mean - after all, we haven't taught you the secret handshake - but trust me when I say they're general phrases used for specific things (like someone saying you're "chill"). We use them all the time and, yes, they all mean something very specific:

"She's a Charlie Tango!"
"I guess it's a bobby pin day."
"Nice. Wolf smile."
"He's going all Foster Brooks over there."
"Did you credit card him?"
"C'mon dude! PUAG!"
"Ready to Jack it up?"
"Where's Alpha Mike?"
"She's got a cigarette holder."
"Taint!"
"It's the bourbon al-Qaida."
"Did you crack a corneleus?"

In addition to those, we absorb as much pop culture bull dada as we can hold, then bark pieces of it out during a gig, trying our best to make each other laugh. Most of these we pinched from a favorite movie/book/TV show, so unlike our PJ lexicon above we can't claim ownership to them - but we DO use them at the best times:

"Buried aliiiiiiiive."
"Nice n' tight ladies."
"Ifitirondick."
"You're dangerous."
"Ooo yeah!"
"You down?"
"Tonight, we dine in hell!"
"You're ghosting us, MF."
"Little hand says it's time to rock and roll."
"Oh so niiiice."
"Bears attack when you're in season."

Finally, we've had so many weird/funny/huh?! experiences we can boil an entire goofy event into one or two words. Just saying the words brings back the entire adventure, and gets us laughing like crazy. Here are a few of those:

"Wildweed."
"Ratchakokoff."
"Bean cheese."
"Katefruit."
"That is NOT 'check!'"
"Cobra Stare."
"Alpo."
"Crap fart."
"Tuna Boat's In."
"Triple Guffaw."
"The 'No More Haircuts Today!' Whitewall Disaster."
"Hairy Harpoon."
"Grey Bra Syndrome."
"Carrie's Mom."

Yes, it's stupid and silly - but laughing keeps us feeling good, which helps us keep YOU feeling good.

And that's what it's all about - MAH BRUTH-THAS and SIST-TAHS!

Spirals

Circles. Life's built on them, right? If you study any ancient civilization, or religion, or read any papers on tradition, habits or even nature, you'll see life works in circles.

In my life, the circles connect and form spirals. That's where I find myself these days - in the middle of these strange spirals. All of them connected and spinning, feeding of one another. It's downright strange, but it's helped me find peace and clarity when the spinning gets out of control.

Some of my circles include: Family. Band. Day gig. Relationships. Spirituality. Duty. Discovery of oneself. Vision/goals. All of these circles, spinning in my life like plates on a stick. The weird thing is they're one on top of another, not side by side, and they're all connected, with each one affecting the next. Sometimes they all affect one another (how does my family life affect my band? My writing gig? My relationships? How does my search for spirituality affect my vision and goals? How does my sense of duty to my band AND my family help me discover who I am as a leader? How do my relationships affect my vision and goals? Am I strong enough to make decisions to meet my goals, regardless of cost?).

So, that's where the spiral comes in. All these circles spinning around right on top of me, increasing in speed AND pressure. But that's where a person MUST have a way to stay calm when these circles threaten to crush the gd life out of you.

So get this: we all know the eye of a hurricane is, literally, the calmest part of the hurricane itself. In fact, winds are light and it may even be sunny. Circling the eye is the eye wall, composed of clouds and thunderstorms and the strongest winds. So why is the eye calms? Because the wind can't blow into it. It's a lot like taking a good-sized salad bowl full of water, holding on to the edge of the bowl and spinning it in a circle over your head. The same force keeping the water in the bucket keeps the winds and storms out of the eye of a hurricane.

Result: the pressure in the eye - in the middle of the storm, in the middle of the spiral - is extremely low.

(Here I go with the metaphors again.)

When things in life spin almost out of control I really DO find a strange calm and clarity of vision. Seriously - I know what I want to do, what I will and won't tolerate and how the road in front of me splits. Maybe that's how my muse operates - I'm not sure. All I do know is when those circles connect and spin, my focus increases and I see my life - my family, my band, my day gig, my relationships - with absolute clarity.

Spirals? Bring 'em on.

Possibilities...

OK - I'm a Star Trek fan/geek/whatever (BIG fan of the original series - not so much of the Next Generation). Not to the point of dressing up like Kirk for ComicCon, but - yeah - I love the show and the movies.

Anyway, the second Trek movie "Wrath of Khan" is a classic. I don't think I'm spoiling the movie for anyone when I say Spock dies at the end. In these days of movie spoiler sites, Quicktime trailers and DVDs something like this wouldn't be a big deal, but I saw the movie at the theater when it opened in '82, and without any advance notice or hints I was genuinely shocked.

At the end of the movie they put Spock's body in a tube/coffin and shoot it to "The Genesis Planet" for his final resting place. Kirk, still grieving, looks to the future and reminds himself that "Spock always said there are possibilities." Kirk then grins and looks almost - confident? - and the movie ends.

My band played a gig on Saturday with a new keyboardist/female vocalist. It was an AMAZING show. We were winging it, as we used a sub guitar player, but it was unbelievable. I haven't felt so good about performing music in quite some time. Whatever we wanted to play we played, with no pressure or worry about being perfect. At times it felt like a free fall, but - although I've never jumped off a building! - I imagine a free fall is scary AND exhilarating at the same time.

We swapped harmonies and verses, sung together and apart and LAUGHED - a lot! - like kids just discovering something really cool for the first time. Props to Rob and Joey - the band's rock-solid rhythm section - for slipping more punches than Mohammed Ali in his prime, and keeping the rhythm fatter than pre-Subway Jared. Knowing you guys are back there holding it down is an amazing comfort, and I appreciate that.

So now? I'm feeling more excited than I have in 25 years of playing music. The band's going to stretch and play different things. We're gearing up to attack the next level in terms of gigs and musicality.

I'm confident, man, just considering the possibilities.

Ice Breaker Ship - aka Singer

Sometimes, life has a crappy way of imposing its will on you. You're making an omelet but you're thinking about a safe that's about to drop on your head. You're painting the fence while a poison-tipped spear's been thrown at your noggin. Or, you're getting ready to play music in front of strangers who expect you to entertain them for a few hours, but you're getting beat up by life's ill-timed shrapnel.

That's the thing, right? Keeping focused on the job at hand - but sometimes that's close to impossible. I have a gig this Friday with one sub and one new member (luckily, both are excellent musicians). These type of weird gigs need a higher concentration level - no skating here. Keeping two strangers and the other 60% of the band on the same page will take some doing, but I just ain't there yet.

The day gig. The fam. The muse who's suddenly gone MIA. All of this is nipping at me like a squirrel eating a buttered corn cob. This is the the danger of having two professions, and although I can normally keep them in opposite corners, I'm having no luck doing that this week. Whereas music is often an "escape" - even though it's actually MORE difficult than the day gig (I'll explain this in another blog) - I'm having trouble getting my head around what the band needs to do because of the heinous stuff unrelated to music soaring around me like Pig Pen's little cloud on speed.

So - I asked myself how to get through this, and my demented head shot back: "Ice Breaker Ship." For those of you who think I've totally fried my noodle - or don't know what I'm talking about - icebreakers are used to punch through and break up thick Arctic and Antarctic ice. They have a steeped hull to rise on top of the ice and then, using the ship's weight and gravity, crush downward through it. Inside the hull is a huge support structure so the hull itself isn't crushed, and powerful engines keep pushing it forward so the ship doesn't break under pressure.

(Yes - you're all gagging because the metaphor's so damn obvious.)

Anyway, that's where my head's going to be for the next day - trying to break through all the crap that's keeping me from focusing on the gig. And if I need help, I know Rob and Joey (Party Jones' esteemed rhythm section) are there to keep me smiling and help the band nail the gig.

The Kindness of Strangers

People can be kind - the type of good-hearted, no stings attached niceness that makes you think "hey - there's hope for mankind yet!"

We played a gig last Saturday - a 25th anniversary party in Huntington Beach. Before we played one note it was a great gig. The band was feeling good, the room was terrific, and the guests were cool and friendly.

But more than that, the hosts - and the guests - made us feel like we were there WITH them, not just performing FOR them. We ate with them (UNBELIEVEABLE food - filet mignon, anyone?), shared drinks with them (though I, as usual, stuck with water), had coffee and dessert and TONS of great conversation.

As I've blogged before, this type of treatment is totally unexpected and NEVER a requirement for hiring a band. We're brought in to do a job, much like a waiter or busboy (who work their butts off all night! They're the unsung heroes of many corporate and personal gigs, and I appreciate what they do and how they do it). We're not guests. We're hired to set up gear, sing and entertain, tear down gear and move along. Anything in addition to that is pure gravy, showing a generosity from the hosts that shouldn't be expected, but appreciated.

If - as a cover band player - you're not cool with that...if you expect to be treated like a king or a rock star...pull your head out and get into another line of work.

But I digress. Anyway, after a great night of food, fun and music, the hosts gave us a tip that made our eyes spin. Amazing. And you know what the host says to me? He shakes my hand and says "You guys made this party - and you're underpaid."

Yes, performing cover music is often a grind and can drive you nuts. But the kindness of strangers can make a good night really great - and creates memories I can carry with me for years.

Dodging Bullets, Neo Style

There's something weird/cool/pulse-pounding/whack about facing a bunch of strangers who expect you to do something REALLY exceptional - take them someplace in their past, and do it perfectly.

Cover music, man. It's bizarre! There they are, staring you down like something off George Romero's cutting-room floor, and you're looking back at them while the drummer counts off the song. It's time to nail it - kill the tune, raise the energy level, keep them dancing and singing along while not allowing that bastard Moe Mentum to escape out the back door.

Like most bands, we use a set list to get the wheel spinning. It helps the guitarist get his settings in place, helps the drummer and bass player figure out transitions and lock down the correct tempos and gives us a general roadmap for the night.

But what if the night takes a left turn down Bizarre Road? What if the crowd the night before loved 80s music but this crowd's eating it up like liver and lima bean-flavored ice cream? What if following the set list song-for-song is not only letting Moe get away, but it's killing the poor guy?

THEN it's time to slow things down - figuratively, not literally - and go Wachowski Brothers on the crowd. Bullet time, Matrix style.

What's that mean? Well, if you saw The Matrix (and I know you did), you remember Neo moving so quickly he felt like he was moving in slow motion. He could gauge his every move in a controlled, calm way. Remember him leaning back on his heels dodging The Agents' bullets?

OK - when bad energy comes back at you, go Neo style. Slow everything down in your head. Lean back, dodge, dodge. Don't panic - don't get discouraged. Then, while the band's playing the current song, rewind the past few songs in your head. Pay attention to details - every little foot tap and provocative stare. What worked? What didn't?

After that, do a quick mental review of the songlist while the band's cooking along.

Do all of this in about four or five seconds, but do it so quickly that - to you - you're moving in slow motion and not missing anything about crowd reactions to the previous songs.

This sounds really goofy, but I'm telling you - I've completely changed a set's directions based upon some girl tapping her foot or clapping for a song we played ten minutes before. And it WORKS. So when it works, you go with that road until it stops working, or until the end of the set. By then, you'll probably have the crowd on your side and ready to follow you wherever you want to take them.

(For those of you who want to cut to the chase? ALWAYS think on your feet. OK - I friggin' LOVE the Matrix. Sue me!)

AKA The Seven Degrees of 7/4

I'm reaching back in my Rolodex-card memory (most of the cards are smudged though!) and thinking about previous July 4th gigs.

America's birthday's always been good to me and my musical crew - financially and otherwise. And it's weird how many friends I've made and gigs I've picked up through this one holiday.

For example: my friend Jack introduced me to Bob and Sue, who'd used a different band every year for their huge July 4 party...that is, before us (well, by "us" I mean me and several incarnations of my band. Wait, wait...in NO WAY am I taking full credit for doing this party every year - I've been blessed to play this gig with some crazy good cats. However, I'm kind of the string holding the years together).

Anyway, one of the guests at Bob and Sue's party was Steve, who throws his own summer bash every year. He now books us for that every year, playing alongside his band - and we have a BLAST. At Steve's party we met several folks who've hooked us up for the Long Beach Auto Show, Long Beach Concerts on the Park and Rancho Los Cerritos community. At the Long Beach Auto Show we met a person who hired us to play their Christmas function, and at THAT function we met someone wanting to book us for HER holiday function the following year!

(ASIDE: this hasn't even TOUCHED upon meeting the wonderful Steve and Jennifer at Bob's party, who've become very good friends - no, make that "part of the Jones family.")

I KNOW I'm forgetting something - and one of these days I'll do the definitive gig tree, which shows where EVERYTHING came from (would Taco Surf be the Tree of Life?). In the meantime, it's interesting and fun to see how much really comes from celebrating the Fourth of July with Party Jones.

No Nets for a 3P w/V

Although my band is now "officially" a five-piece (drums, bass, guitar, keyboards and voice), I've spent most of my musicial career playing in what's known as a three-piece and voice. In fact, my band will still occasionally play as a 3P w/V for smaller/less $$ gigs.

In this type of band the guitarist, if he's any good, wears about 20 hats every song. He's chording to fatten the sound while playing all the hookish and familiar guitar/key/horn/string runs. The bass player can't play just the written bass part - he has to weave around the guitar player and be intuitive enough to know when to fill it up and when to stick in the pocket. The drummer has to lock in with the bass player while also knowing when to drop in a fill and when to let the song breathe. Meanwhile, the singer belts it out, and depending on the amount of backup singers in the band the lead vocalist may have to jump from melody to harmony to unison chant to melody within a few bars.

This type of band is fun, challenging and somewhat dangerous (musically, duh). For example, if the guitar player misses a chord in a five or six-piece band, it often gets lost in the shuffle behind the second guitarist, keyboardist or horn section. Same with the bass player and drummer. Being surrounded by several musicians is a good safety net - they all produce sounds that help cover up minor gliches.

However, if only three guys are responsible for the sound and one guy for the melody, and one of them makes a mistake, it's HUGE. Even the smallest mistake - the singer going flat, the bass player missing a note, the drummer dropping a beat or the guitarist playing the wrong chord - is amplified. For me, it always feels like we're standing on a coffee table with wobbly legs and it kind of shakes and teeters before we regain balance.

If this happens for a prolonged time, it's disasterous for the band. A few years back we played a gig with a bass player who shouldn't have been on stage - let alone earning money to play music - to begin with. The guitar player launched into his solo, and the bass player (who at the beginning of the song gave a fey and arrogant hand wave when asked "do you know this song?") proceeded to demolish the solo section, playing changes in the wrong key while his "stupid" fingers ran up and down the fretboard like a pinball on crack. Man - about 35 seconds of living in the pits of hell, in front of a packed house. It was humiliating, infuriating and amatuerish, but mostly it made THE ENTIRE BAND look like a bunch of novice wannabes. (Thankfully, this particular bass player was humanely destroyed behind a barn. "Bass player, thy name is 'poser!' Ka-POW!")

So, there's no safety net for a three-piece with voice. Each guy has to nail his part or risk making the entire band sound unprepared. It's thrilling. It's scary. It's cool.

And, thankfully, with the addition of a wonderful keyboardist, it'll soon be a thing of the past.

Telling Stories, Taking Lives

Selling cover music to a crowd staring right at you and demanding truth and emotion and insisting you take them to a place in their past...

...is difficult.

Through my ravings I've said playing cover music isn't great art - and it isn't. I compared it to a paint-by-numbers version of the Mona Lisa - and it is. Cover musicians didn't create "The Exorcist" - we just decided to adapt it as a musical for people to enjoy their memories while we entertain them and keep them happy.

Still, if you're going to perform music that's important to someone, you'd better make it as real as possible. Music is life's signposts and markers, intimately intertwined with our emotions, events, places, times and people. Simply put, cover music evokes memories and is a guide to our past.

Heavy, right? Reality, though.

As a cover band musician, listeners depends on you to help them revisit an event, or a friend, or place or time, or an emotion. If you can't convey truth, they won't respond. They won't trust you. I mean, face it - we've ALL heard crappy cover bands doing plastic versions of songs - sure, the basic chords are there, but where's the "oomph?" The realism? The honesty?

The answer is simple, but the technique is hard. The musician HAS to find something in the song he or she can relate to, then tap into the emotion and apply it to the performance. For example, I'm furious about our government's hypocrisy and broken promises. I tap into that when singing "Pink Houses." I remember myself as a spazzy kid running around laughing myself silly and causing trouble for "I Wish." I'd tell you where the inspiration comes from for "Let's Get it On," but I don't want to name names.

My drummer pulls every drop of emotion out of "Can't Get It Out of My Head" due to events occurring in his life while we learned the song - and you FEEL that in his playing, from his tripleted fills "pulling" against the song's time to the openness of his backbeat. His drumming's filled with tension, then spaciousness and ultimately release. It's probably my favorite "drumming" song in our list, and it gets me every time.

As a singer, one of the greatest compliments I've received is when a listener - be it someone in the crowd or someone in a band - told me my singing gave him or her "chills." That's amazing to me, and it proves that tapping into MY emotion helps make cover music a communal, sharing experience.

You know, I often think of cover musicians as actors. We know how actors earn a living - a screenwriter creates a script. The actor studies these flat, two-dimensional words on paper and, under the director's instructions, makes the words come to life. You have to believe the actor lost a lover in a car accident, or is possessed by a dark spirit, or pushed his body to the breaking point in order to save the world.

Bringing life to words on a page, written by someone else - that's an actor's passion.

Bringing feeling and emotion to a tired song, telling a story and taking lives back to another place - that's the blessing and calling of a good cover musician.

Weirded Out - AKA "The Cobra Stare"

The cobra snake's reputation is pretty solid, right? Creepy looking, big ol' snake (some can get up to 24 feet in length). There's the hood, the deadly toxins inherent in the bite (which cause suffocation due to paralysis of the diaphragm) - man. That's enough to give most people the ol' "fear skittering up my back like a spider" feeling.

The other thing about a cobra? Depending on what you read, a cobra can hypnotise its prey by staring at while rhythmically moving back and forth. Then it attacks.

OK - time to dovetail. Playing gigs means getting attention from the crowd/customers. It's normally fun, and it's the routine - I mean, part of the job of a cover band is to entertain, and people enjoy seeing musicians singing, running around, having fun and playing instruments. Of course, gigging musicians enjoy the attention - after all, I firmly believe most musicians are insecure to beging with. So, when the crowd's digging you, you're digging them back via the music and entertainment, and it creates good synergy (I blogged about this a few days ago).

However - every now and then, there are a few people in the crowd who take it way past the "comfortable zone." Maybe it's a guy who's been pounding drinks all day long and side-stepped from the "fun, buzzed" arena to the darker "beligerant drunk" side. This guy stumbles to the dance floor, bashes into people without regard and hits on girls who want nothing to do with him. Or maybe it's the girl who's so into the band she DEMANDS you play her favorite song, regardless if the band's never done it (or ALREADY done it one set before) - to the point of yelling at the band to "&#ck off!" if the band doesn't comply.

But beyond that, there's the person who uses what I call "The Cobra Stare." THIS person weirds me right out the door. 99% of the time, this person is a girl, and here's how she operates:

• Forces her way to the front of the crowd, right up to the stage - no matter who she needs to bump out of the way
• Emulates whatever I do on stage (e.g. peace sign, arms raised while singing, arching back while hitting a note, etc.)
• Stares DIRECTLY into my eyes while NEVER BLINKING - even from ACROSS THE ROOM

AGH! This happens occasionally, and - as a seasoned musician and singer - it freaks the livin' hoo-hah out of me. See, I'm a writer and creative type with a love of good horror/suspense - so of course my friggin' imagination grabs the wheel and starts telling me exactly what I don't want to hear ("She's from a pod, Kenny" "She'll swallow your soul, Kenny!" "She's the human cobra woman who'll hypnotize you, then bite you and suffocate you, Kenny!").

Bottom line? Well, I'm civil to this type of person - just like to anyone else who takes the time to come and see us.

But still...

...it weirds me out!

Sweatin' to the Oldies

What a weekend. Two gigs, two crowds, two completely different vibes, different songs, different locations, and - strangely enough! - different bands, as we introduced our female keyboardist/vocalist on Saturday.

There was, however, one consistent between the two nights. One thing that is a consistent at EVERY gig we play...

...sweat.

Sweet Mother McCreedy - is it just me, or do clubs insist on forcing the bands to lose a pound or two in water weight? In my scattered memory I can't remember one time a club's ran A/C while the band's played, and for the life of me I can't figure out why.

Is it to make the patrons hot and thirsty, forcing them to buy more beer/drinks/frosty libations? Couldn't be - food, peanuts and occasional stupidity drive most people to drop far more coin then they should at the bar and drink way too much. OK - what about saving $ on electricity? Nah, that can't be it. It'd cost pennies to run the A/C for a five or ten minutes per set, and they'd probably make the money spent on A/C 50 times over by keeping customers who run for their lives when they start to smell fire and brimstone. Wait - maybe they just don't HAVE A/C installed? Sorry, but no - though we're not at Jetson level yet, just about every club in So Cali has an A/C unit built it.

I guess there's only one reason for keeping the club hotter than an Easy Bake Oven - musicians look sexy when they sweat.

Yeah - that HAS to be it. When the drummer, guitarist and bass player look like they're coated in Crisco oil, the crowd MUST be digging it. When the singer looks like he's just dunked his head in a bobbing-for-apples sized bucket, and the water's pouring off his temples down his face and into his eyes - the girls MUST be going crazy.

Of course! And when I hug friends who've come to see the band, there's nothing they enjoy more than hugging a singer who feels like a damp washcloth.

...yeah.

...nice.

I Can See REALLY REALLY Clearly Now

About four months ago, something began happening to my voice - something that'd never happened before. My voice wasn't recovering after gigs - or if it was, the recovery was so minimal it made no difference when it was go time on Friday. I began losing range and control - I couldn't nail the highs and swerving around the vocal curlicues felt like I was driving a bulldozer on a curved mountain road greased with lard ("I canna mahk the tuhrns, cap'n! She'll fail for sure!").

Needless to say this freaked me out. For my entire life, my voice would ALWAYS recover completely in one or, at the absolute outside, two days. That is, no sign of huskiness or hoarseness or Joe Cockeriness - come Monday I could hit the notes in my sleep.

But four months ago that stopped happening. My throat wasn't recovering, and I began to worry. First thought: voice with 25 years worth of singing mileage on it, some of those years spent singing in smoke-filled bars (though I never smoked, for years I played in bars with so much second-hand smoke I felt like I was eating nicotine cotton candy) is crapping out. But it didn't feel like that. My voice felt fatigued but not finished. Next thought: polyps on my vocal cords. This freaked me out - if they don't go away on their own, then what?

Finally, I decided to control the things I could control. I committed, for a month, to have absolutely NO alcohol at a gig - not a beer, not a shot, not a bourbon seven- nothing.

(No-brainer time here, as any experienced singer will tell you this: alcohol is a drying agent, drying the vocal cords and making it tougher to sing and hit the notes. Still, as a front man and band leader, I've been expected to knock back a few drinks/shots during the night. Not that I didn't enjoy it!)

Strangely enough, six months ago (before the onset of the vocal problems) I decided to ease up and have only a beer or two per gig in order to stay sharp. But four months ago - when the throat problems really became predominant - I completely quit drinking at gigs.

Boy - reading this back, it sounds like I'm a cross between Otis and Foster Brooks at my gigs. I can definitely hold my liquor, but knocking back a few highballs didn't make me mess songs up. I'm too much of a perfectionist (and far too into beating myself up for every tiny mistake) for that! If anything, I got a bit too silly/giggly, but hell, what can you do?

Also - I'm not much of a social drinker, either. I rarely, if ever, drink during the week.

So what happened? Well, it was amazing - my voice completely recovered, and I found myself singing with the same range and control at the end of the night that I had at the beginning. No small task, considering the band plays for roughly four hours per night. It was awesome.

But something else happened, too - a really cool side benefit. I was seeing everything clearly, all through the night. Suddenly, I could really enjoy the crowd getting off on the band, or the band tearing up a song like there was no tomorrow. I found my concentration going through the roof, and it was like I controlled every note of every song with my hands - not my vocal cords.

Needless to say, my newfound water-only stance has rankled some of my great friends who come to the gigs and say (with a smile) "We liked you better when you were drinking!" It's at this point I wobble a little and slur the words to some one-hit wonder song. That always gets a laugh.

Master of Ceremonies with a bottle of water? Captain of the Enterprise passing on the tronya, instead powering down some Gatorade? The point guard at a championship celebration foregoing champagne for Sparklets?

Hey...why not? :-)

Just a Voice in an Empty Room

"A man plucked a nightingale and, finding but little to eat, said: "'You are just a voice and nothing more.'"
-Plutarch, Moralia: Sayings of Spartans

"Yeah baby - tired of being alone here by myself, now."
-Al Green, Tired of Being Alone

This weekend the band played a really difficult gig - performing for three people for almost two entire sets. It was painful, depressing, difficult and - for me - lonely.

(Uh-oh - the naysayers are rolling their eyes right now. Admit it! "Kenny, all you've done for most of your posts is gripe that cover band musicians are workers, grinding it out like plumbers or mechanics. THEY don't need an audience to work! Quit whining and go sing!")

Look - the thing is, musicians get paid whether the room's crowded or not. We all know that. So why gripe about an empty room? Simple - musicians thrive off the immediate energy a live audience provides. I hate words like "synergy," but in this case it works because the formula for a great live show is: band gives energy / audience receives energy, multiplies it, gives it back to the band / band receives energy, multiplies it, gives it back to the audience / etc., to the nth degree. Talk about blowing the roof off. It's the perfect relationship - everybody wins.

When a room is empty, a good cover band (like mine) still plays and sounds great. We nailed it to the wall the other night, even though for a set and a half only three people saw it. We're professionals - we circle the wagons and play for one another. But for me, I really need the crowd. I need to give them everything I have, and when I'm exhausted, sweating and gasping I need them to prop me back up and demand more. It's exhilarating and cathartic and spiritual and crazy - but mostly it's connecting with them. It creates balance. It empowers me as a singer and an entertainer - so I'm not just a voice in an empty room.

No You? No Mic. No Me.

I have to admit - I'm amazed, and for me that's a pretty big deal.

OK - by now you know that my cover band plays week in, week out. It's a gig, one we get paid for. For the club dates I negotiate the fee, we do the gig, set out our little tip jar and hope for the best. If it's a bigger gig - maybe a corporate function or private event - those who hired us will feed us or provide other perks (drinks, a bonus) in addition to whatever money I've negotiated with them.

Bottom line? We don't play for free, just like your carpenter doesn't build for free, your dentist doesn't drill for free, your painter doesn't paint for free, your waiter (or waitress) doesn't wait for free, or - and you knew this was coming - your plumber doesn't plumb for free.

Incredibly, my band has a group of friends who either make time every single week to come and see us, introduces us to others who constantly throw work our way (I guess you'd call that "networking," though I HATE that term), or are kind to us JUST for the sake of being kind. I can say this without hesitation - our friends really DO take care of us, and they do it on so many different levels it's mind boggling.

First, there's a die-hard group of people who - rain or shine - come to just about every public gig we do. Whether a club date, park function, the Long Beach Grand Prix or an auto show, these folks show up and energize us. In thinking about the "Fab Five" as I call them (Jay and Wifey, Steve and Jennifer and Julia)I get this dumb smile on my face. I truly do consider them my friends, and would feel blessed and honored if I'd met them WITHOUT being a musician. I'm constantly amazed at their energy, selflessness, sense of humor and kindness. If the world had more people like our Fab Five - well, I won't get all political on you but I'm pretty certain there'd be a lot more love in the world.

Next, I can think of a handful of people who've directly impacted how many gigs we play - whose unselfish Party Jones pimping has led to COUNTLESS gigs in an amazing, branching-off manner. I call this "putting money in our pocket." For example, Victoria - a good friend of ours - is responsible for almost single-handedly pointing eight to ten great gigs a year our way (which led to other organizations associated with Victoria's organizations offering us gigs!). Steve - who has a killer party every year - introduced us to the City of Long Beach which led to countless gigs there (and our relationship with Steve came from an annual July 4 gig we play for our friends Bob and Sue!). There's Annette, who not only got us gigs but - due to her softball connections - got us the annual City of Fountain Valley Little League celebration. Seriously - this list could go on all day (I'm not even touching on word-of-mouth recommendations - it's absolutely amazing how much our friends talk us up to THEIR friends, relations and co-workers).

Finally, we have those friends who, simply, do things for the band because they're kind, giving people. Tanya comes to mind - a wonderful person who took on crappy, thankless job of selling our t-shirts and SOLD THEM OUT on her own. By herself! This was AFTER I'd spent over a year trying to sell them! There's Sheryl who always manages to sneak a HUGE tip amount into the jar without anyone finding out. Nelson, whose kind words and up attitude make us feel like kings. Again - this list goes on FOREVER.

You see where I'm going with this? Someday I'll mock up an org chart or something, but in truth - without all of the people who come to see us, I'd never stand in front of a mic and sing. I'm lucky, and blessed, and I thank every single person who's ever come out to see a band I'm in.

You Hired a WHAT?!

OK - I did it. I really did it. After consulting with the band, we decided to...gulp...

...hire a female keyboardist.

Yes. A girl has become a player in Party Jones.

YAGH!

You're reading this and probably wondering "Geez Kenny - what's the problem? Having a girl in your band is a GOOD thing." And indeed it is - for reasons like: I no longer have to sing the girl songs, the guitar player doesn't have to play EVERY single part and I don't have to hit the ultrasonic high harmony notes. Good times, right?

Yes, but...well, I'll say this: dealing with a woman in a band is completely different than dealing with a guy. I won't invoke the "diva" phrase here, though that gets bandied around quite a bit by people who've played with girls in all-guy bands (yep - I'm one of those). I have it on good authority that our new keyboardist is NOT a diva in any sense of the word. That's good enough for me.

However, having a girl in an all dude band creates a different vibe and chemistry. I call Party Jones "The Jones Boys" because we often feel like a group of renegades on the run. Roll into town, shoot 'em up, give 'em hell, make 'em fall in love with you and get lost before you're caught - all the while keeping just out of reach of the law. None of that seems like an apt description for a girl, y'know?

Also, with guys you can be harsh - you don't have to pull punches when criticizing them. You don't have to hold back when making a joke, and the cruder the humor the better (PLEASE don't tell me you gasped when you read that!). With a girl, my DNA immediately puts a governer on my mouth. My dad raised me to respect women, not be "dirty mouthed" around them and act - more or less - like a gentleman. Add to these the fact that when we're playing in a crowded club we sweat, curse, jump around and look like we've been in a 12-round boxing match. How will that work with a girl in the band? Will she curse, sweat and do the rest?

As I mentioned in a previous post, if each band member understands his or her role, plays within that role and puts the crowd and the band ahead of the individual there's really no need to be gushy with one another. It's a business. Do the job and get paid and leave your ego in the car. Still, it's a nice value add when you DO develop interpersonal relationships with the band. It'll be interesting to see how we go down that particular road with a female on board.

In the meantime?

...gulp.

Finding My Ch'i Before the Gig

OK - we've determined being a cover musician is hard work. The travel, loading/unloading/setting up/tearing down gear, performing for four hours, glad handing and placating the owner/manager/crowd and tolerating the occasional in-your-face drunk is mentally and physically draining. It's true - I played sports (basketball, volleyball and softball) most of my life, but I've NEVER ached like I do the morning after a gig. At the end of the night my brain AND my body's exhausted.

As I've gotten older I've realized the absolute importance of finding my Ch'i and center (yes, "the calm place") before a gig (here's the inevitable disclaimer: I, in no way, purport to be an expert Taoist or well versed in Buddisim. All I know is what I've read and what works FOR ME. Spirituality is specific to the individual - but if you're looking for a deep understanding of these concepts, keep searching until you find what's right for you).

No, I don't go into the Lotus position and meditate in a corner somewhere while the band's warming up. What works for me is this: 20 minutes before a gig, after I'm set up and sound checked, I do a few things:

1) Concentrate on breathing for two or three minutes. Yeah - I know - we ALL breath, but Ch'i is literally translated as "air, vapors, ether, breathing, energy." At the same time it means "temperament, power, atmosphere". Ch'i is one's vital force but also the universal spiritual energy pervading all beings. I can't tell you what that means to YOU, but to me finding my Ch'i means tapping into my center, feeling powerful and being one with my band and the crowd. So, I take slow, deep breaths, filling my diaphragm and lungs to capacity, then releasing them in a slow, controlled manner. It's relaxing and invigorating simultaneously. Sounds weird, I know, but it's true. Trust me - doing this, you really feel the power of your spirit.

2) I try to visualize what the first few songs will be like, making sure to focus on the POSITIVE. In other words, I visualize the band sounding really tight, the songs sitting in the pocket like a warm muffin in a cloth napkin and the crowd receiving, then returning energy. Think of this as "the power of positive thinking." This builds on the feeling of oneness with the band AND the crowd, and believe me when I say the power of music - especially cover music - is communal. For me, positive visualization helps keep me on-track when things go wrong (and lately I haven't been spending as much time before a gig doing this - and I've noticed my patience is shorter when the train derails).

3) I like to sit down with the band and just laugh a little - be immature and silly. As I mentioned in a previous blog laughter IS release, and hanging out with the band and laughing not only releases stress but it builds character within the band. When you laugh you feel good - and feeling good before downbeat translates to the music.

Movies/TV/Musicians: The Best and Worst

(DISCLAIMER: OK - this is my list, and my list ONLY. So don't grumble, OK?)

Watching movies or TV featuring musicians - either as "a band" in a particular scene or in the starring role - is generally painful. Why? For a few reasons: either the band is completely overacting ("guitar player's face" or stupid moves/head banging), the band itself defies the laws of physics (hey - that guy's playing an electric guitar, and he's SCREAMIN' on the solo! Nevermind there's no amp and cord!), or the band and the crowd look ridiculously fake. I suppose the director expects viewers to suspend disbelief, but still - c'mon. How difficult is it to plug a cord into a guitar?

Having said that, today's blog is my take on some of the best and worst "musician" movies and television. Keep in mind - the bad ones are bad because they look really, really, really fake or just plain lazy (the "missing guitar cord" syndrome). They're not in any particular order (EXCEPT the first movie of the "great" list - which is THE greatest rock and roll/musicians movie ever made), so read, bust out your Blockbuster card or crack open your Netflix queue and watch a few of these. Even the bad ones are good for a laugh.

KENNY'S "GREAT TV SHOW/MOVIE MUSIC" LIST

• A Hard Day's Night - Starring The Beatles. THE best movie about a band. Period. GREAT music, crackling dialogue, edits and cuts IN TIME to the music, terrific acting and genuinely funny moments (Paul's grandfather, on Ringo's big nose: "He can't help havin' a hideous great hooter. An' his poor head, tremblin' under the weight!"). Yes, I know, the guitars are unplugged - but in this case, it's OK because the movie's so great. TIP FOR WATCHING: Put on subtitles - sometimes it's hard to catch all the dialogue because of the English accents.
• That Thing You Do! - Starring The Wonders. Terrific movie for several reasons: a) the actors ACTUALLY PLAY THEIR INSTRUMENTS. They took lessons and after six months could jam with each other. b) Their song "That Thing You Do" gets BETTER as the play it more often - just like real music. c) When they start out they have crappy instruments (Danelectro guitars, etc.). As they become huge they get top of the line gear. d) The movie REALLY gets across the excitement of being in a band (the scene where they're played on the radio gives me chills every time). TIP FOR WATCHING: Notice the bass player has NO NAME! He's listed as "T.B. Player" in the credits.
• This Is Spinal Tap - Starring Spinal Tap. Friggin' brilliant. Friggin' hilarious. Friggin' ACCURATE. Eminently quotable ("This goes to 11," "D Minor is the saddest of all keys," etc.). TIP FOR WATCHING: Listen for the limo driver's under his breath comment when the band raises the privacy glass.
• Bird - Biography about sax player Charlie "Yardbird" Parker. Very dark and unrelenting, but terrific. The movie examines Parker's excessive drink and drug habits while celebrating his groundbreaking sax playing and his wife's patience and loyalty. TIP FOR WATCHING: They use much of Bird's actual recordings, mixed with modern musicians, in the soundtrack.
• The Blues Brothers - Starring The Blues Brothers. VERY funny movie (Princess Leia with a bazooka? Niiiiiice.) - and although I don't much care for Belushi's singing, with performances by Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Cab Calloway, James Brown, John Lee Hooker (in addition to a backup band composed of Steve Cropper, "Duck" Dunn, Willie Hall, Tom Malone, Matt Murphy, Lou Marini and Alan Rubin) you CAN'T go wrong. TIP FOR WATCHING: The nun floating across the floor - it kills me every time.
• A Mighty Wind - Starring the Folksmen, Mitch and Mickey and the New Main Street Singers. Three folk groups from the 60s reunite for a memorial concert - and it's damn FUNNY. The folk singer portraits are completely accurate and some of the lines ("there was abuse in my family - of a musical nature") is coffee-spittin' hilarious. TIP FOR WATCHING: Notice the similarities between the Folksmen and Spinal Tap? You should - same guys.

Honorable Mentions - Help!, Ray, Almost Famous, The Commitments, Don't Knock the Rock, Let It Be, The Buddy Holly Story

KENNY'S "TERRIBLE TV/MUSIC MOVIE" LIST (a disclaimer within a disclaimer: The Patridge Family could have their own category here. Please consider them at the top of the "Fake Band That Looks Really Fake When Playing Fake Music" food chain. The Monkees don't count - although they barely avoided the 7th layer of hell by stealing every idea from "Help!" for their TV program, three of them were actual musicians. And, yeah - the show was kinda funny)

• Magical Mystery Tour - Starring the Beatles. All you pretentious "You don't get REAL art!" weenies pipe down - the Beatles are my favorite band, but this movie is a self-serving, ego-driven pile of guano. THIS is what happens when artists believe they're capable of creating ANY kind of art (see "Shatner - William" for more details). No - time hasn't been kind to this gack-inducing flick (though the music IS terrific - of course).
• The Lost Boys - Appearance by Some Vampire Band. Is it just me or does anyone else want to shoot a poisonous blow dart at the 'roid-filled drenched-in-grease leader of the vampire band at the beach rally? Yes, I know he's a real sax player (Tim Capello, who's played with Tina Turner among others - and he's a pretty good player), but please - covering yourself in Vasoline doesn't sell you as sexy. Plus, "Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters" from "That Thing You Do!" are more convincing as players than this pink fro wig and Edgar Winter haired band of actors pretending to "really rock out" (they're head banging to a song that sounds as dangerous as Perry Como taking an afternoon nap). "Attention please. 'Out of touch director,' table for one."
• Any Episode of "Happy Days" Featuring Richie's Band - Yeah, Richie. You BLOW that sax, man, and when you do make that really serious "I'm blowin' a sax and creating art" face to REALLY sell it, OK?
• Heartbreak Ridge - Featuring an appearance by Stitch Jones, "The Ayotollah of Rock and Rollah." I love this movie, and shame on Clint Eastwood (who directed this as well as the aforementioned great "Bird") for allowing this painful musical interlude. Stitch is a guitar playin', sunglass wearin', rappin' and singin' fool who's singing with effects WELL over the din, plays a heavily distorted electric guitar WITHOUT a mic, PA, cords, an amp or - if memory serves - a friggin' BACKING BAND. Outside of that? Completely realistic.
• Under Siege - Featuring Bad Billy and the Bail Jumpers. Look - I like Tommy Lee Jones. He was great in "The Fugitive." But he's COMPLETELY fake as a harmonica-blowin' blues singer. "God, I love this job!" Yeah, whatever. You ever played a gig before?
• Any Sitcom From the 70s Through the Late 90s in Which a Lead Character Creates, Plays in or Buys Tickets for a Band. 'nuff said.

Honorable Mentions - Any Brady Bunch episode featuring "the Brady kids" as singers/musicians, The Jazz Singer (Neil Diamond version, natch - you know, the one where he DOESN'T SING JAZZ), Eddie and the Cruisers, Crossroads (Ralph Macchio version - and an aside: I like the fact the public at large gets to hear the term "cut his head" in the movie. What I hate is Macchio instantly becoming "a blues man" the first time his heart is broken. Puh-leeeeze)

&!$%@!*%!$ (Insert "F" Word Adjective) Gear!

Nothing's worse - outside of breaking off 1/3 of your front tooth during the last song of a gig (yes, I did that. Yes, I looked stupid. Yes, I had it capped. Yes, I'm more careful.) - than having your gear crap out on you during a gig/show. It's BEYOND suckage, and in my case - as a singer - there just ain't much you can do about it.

A few pieces of equipment are ABSOLUTELY vital to a lead singer. Let's get the obvious ones out of the way: a good mic, a good PA, a good mic stand - all must-haves if you're a professional vocalist. However, without a good vocal monitor a singer is SCREWED.

Here's why: when singing in front of a band, the singer CANNOT hear his or her own voice. Think about it - the singer's battling with electrified instruments (guitar, bass, keyboards) AND very loud acoustic instruments (drums). There's no way to yawp over the din.

The solution is vocal monitors - either in-ear or wedges (you've seen these. They look like little speakers on the stage). What I use is cordless in-ear monitors. I use Shure, with ear buds (resembling the headphones that come with most MP3 players) that plug into a little Altoid-box sized pack on my hip. The belt pack receives a signal from a base unit that's plugged into the PA. So, the PA sends the vocals to the base unit which - wirelessly - sends the vocals to the little Altoid box pack on my hip. This way, I hear all the vocals - lead and backup - and I never try to scream over the music and I can make sure my singing is dead solid perfect.

But what happens when something breaks? Remember when I mentioned "screwed" above? Last weekend I had the base unit crap out at a gig. I'm pretty sure it was the base unit, as I switched inputs AND frequency channels for the wireless stuff. My voice would just faaaaaaaade out and disappear. I swear, it sounded like the battery was going bad. So, I had to take the in-ears out and set the pack aside. I stood on the edge of the stage, hoping to pick up enough from the main speakers to keep me from yelling over the music.

See - that's the WEIRD thing. Even though you KNOW you shouldn't yell above the din, you JUST DO. It's some strange wired-in-our-DNA human thing.

The result? I woke up Sunday sounding like Joe Cocker. I was more hoarse than the winner of the last Kentucky Derby (thank you - I'm here all week. Try the veal). So, this week I'll be troubleshooting the base unit in the hopes that I can fix the thing.

SHURE - JUST GIVE ME THE SPONSERSHIP I'VE ASKED FOR AND WE'LL ALL BE HAPPY!

Music = Laughing = Release

Go time again...and here I am getting jacked up about playing music tonight and tomorrow.

Whether you play music professionally or not, it's a release. For me, it's almost like a primal scream - for example, we do "Everlasting Love" by Carl Carlton, OK? I hold a note prior to the last chorus as long as possible - for me, the song builds up to this moment. As I blast the word "love" I can feel my neck veins bulge as I do it, and I arch my back to REALLY pull the note from my diaphragm. Quite often I'm gasping through the last chorus - but God, does it FEEL GOOD. Like an ipecac or something, that note helps me rid myself of a week of toxic and poisonous bad feelings. That's a release.

However, although playing in a cover band is a biz, that doesn't mean you can't have fun doing it. Teachers laugh, as do construction workers, attorneys, janitors, bookkeepers and prison guards. There's nothing like having a good laugh in the middle of a song - either with one or more of my bandmates or alone - for releasing a gob of tension and stress. Where hitting the note I describe above is kind of like releasing poisons, a good laugh is more about releasing tension and looking at things from every angle possible. Laughing also keeps a musician young - and believe me, being boyish goes a long way towards taking the edge off a tough night of work.

Rock Soup

For the past few days I've tried to somehow write what it feels like when a band is really hitting on all cylinders - I mean playing TOGETHER, locked-in and deeper in the pocket than a piece of lint. It's four different guys starting with nothing (silence) and then creating one, singular thing.

I wanted to write about it but didn't want to get mired in melodrama or hyperbole - I'm trying to keep these blogs as lean and mean as I can - so I deleted the last two blogs I wrote.

Here's what I came up with, and - although it is a metaphor - it's a good description of when a band really gets locked into a tight musical groove. I'm sure we've all heard a variation of the rock/stone soup fable. The basic elements of the story are the same, but the end varies greatly depending on the protagonist (a starving soldier=idealism=good feeling, or a manipulative hobo=deciept=bad feeling). For the sake of a good vibe, we'll go with the soldier.

A starving soldier wanders into a village in the dead of winter. He goes door-to-door begging for food, but alas, the villagers are also poor and close to starving as well - it's been their worst winter in memory.

Discouraged but inspired, the soldier runs around town collecting scraps and pieces of trees and wood. Using his last match he starts a huge fire, and drags an enormous black iron pot he'd seen resting against the wall of a blacksmith's shop on top of the fire. He fills the pot with snow which melts and starts to boil.

Meanwhile, the villagers have collected around him and the pot of now-boiling water. Most think the poor soldier's lost his mind. It's then the soldier pulls a smooth stone from his pocket. He polishes the rock with snow, then drops it into the boiling pot of water.

At this point he pulls a long wooden spoon from his knapsack and begins stirring the water. The villagers, meanwhile, think he's absolutely crazy, but he continues stirring the boiling water. He then takes a taste of the water and says "This is the best rock soup I've ever had, but it needs something else...maybe a carrot and an onion..."

One of the villagers approaches the soldier, draws a deep breath of the soup's aroma and says "I have a carrot and an onion." A few minutes later he returns and adds the carrot and onion to the rock soup. After a few minutes of stirring, the soldier and the villager take a deep breath and the solder says "this smells wonderful - but some potatoes would really bring out the flavor." A few of the villagers reply they have potatoes at home, and soon they return with enough potatoes to fill the pot.

As the soup simmers other villagers add other vegetables, spices and soup bones to the mix. Finally, the soldier tastes the soup and said "Perfect!" Starting with the children, everyone has a bowl of this soup and all are warmed and filled by it.

Maybe playing music in a band begins with a rock. The rock, in a cover band's case, can be ego, personality conflicts, business concerns, audience apathy or scorn - but the band members, working together by adding something vital to the mix, make the rock irrelevant by unselfishly giving something of themselves to the whole. Four guys with four different flavors, tastes, spices and colors, adding to something larger than the individual. It's at that point a band transcends the ideal and - for a few wonderful moments - achieves the real.

That, my friends, is what it's like when my band REALLY nails it.

Jockey on Horse: "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Feelings!"

I look at playing cover music as a business - simple as that. It's no different than any other business out there - learn your craft and get good at it, sell your services, back up your promises, guarantee a quality deliverable and make sure your ROI is worth all the work. The interworkings of a cover band are part of that business, and - in a perfect world - the phrase "it's nothing personal" should hold more power than it does.

Anyway, when you're running a cover band, you carry those responsibilities like a concrete life vest, and it's a load, man. That's why keeping the band a business is crucial to the band's success.

When I played in bands as a kid I thought it was mandatory to have some kind of personal vibe with every member of every band I was in. As I've grown up I've realized that running a band with good, solid players with good attitudes is key - everything else is gravy. In other words, playing in a cover band means meshing on a musical and professional level - do that and the band's unstoppable. It's a bonus - but not mandatory - if you have interpersonal relationships with the guys sharing the stage with you.

There are reasons why a cover band should run as a business. Nevermind that musicians are transient to begin with (I honestly can't remember how many bands/people I've played with over the years!). As a writer-by-day and a cover band musician, I'm reminded of a great quote from "The Writer's Book of Wisdom:" "Writing is more craft than art." This certainly applies to cover music. Musicians are artists. Artists are ego-driven and sensitive by nature. However, a cover band - as I discussed in a previous blog - ain't great art. Working in a cover band is grinding out a nice finished product - it's more building the frame then painting the picture, and experienced cover band musicians realize the problems of mixing business and pleasure: hurt feelings, bruised egos, anger and resentment. That's the problem with letting "the personal" bleed over into "the business."

A good business succeeds when good employees do a good job, day in and day out. I've mentioned this a few times in prior blogs, but it hold true here: playing in a cover band means losing the ego and being professional - for the sake of the band, not the individual. It's about getting better so the business gets better. It's about doing what you're required to do - nothing less.

So - I guess it's kind of obvious (duuuhhh!) that when it comes to a cover band I'm a businessman and a perfectionist. What I do know is this: keeping THE business A business means I can address any Gomez Addams-like trainwrecks that might occur during a gig - and do so with a clear conscious.

A Good Starting Point for Karma...

It's not part of the gig - and completely unexpected - when the people who hire you treat you with a healthy dollup of kindness and generousity. It's a treat, and goes a long way towards making a professional musician feel pretty good.

Why isn't treating the band with kindness part of the gig? Simple - a band-for-hire is like a waiter or a busboy, a valet or a custodian. We ain't rock stars. We don't have possies leeching off us or personal assistants scheduling our next record signing or photo op. We're, essentially, hired help, there to perform a service as professionally and mistake-free as possible - to create some atmosphere, bring some smiles, get people feeling good and then split without being conspicuous. The event is NEVER about the band, much like it's NEVER about the waiter, or the busboy, or the girl serving bread or the waitress bringing you the next round.

It's cool, though. We know this. We accept it.

However, this weekend, we were treated like kings - veritable rulers of the universe, so help me. It was totally unexpected, completely wonderful and appreciated far beyond what I can type here. Needless to say from Martin the security guard at Metro Pointe telling me that he told the bigwigs in charge of MP that "Your band is the best band we've seen here - they're in for a treat!" to Chris, representing the Fountain Valley Pony League, bringing us water, Gatorade, lunch and offering to throw our trash away (!) - while hopping on the mic to remind the crowd how lucky they were to have Party Jones at the event...

...man. Kindess. Plain old NICEness, for no other reason then to BE nice. In that respect, this weekend really got to me - touched me. It's the whole "pay it forward" thing, I suppose. Showing kindness when it's not required is always a good starting point for karma. I hope the gang at Metro and the folks working for the Fountain Valley Pony League have massive amounts of good things happen to them this week and for many weeks after.

Thanks, you guys.

Go Time

It never fails - the weekend starts, I have gigs, I'm fired up.

Strange.

Seriously!

I've been playing live music since I was 14, and I STILL haven't lost that pre-gig excitement. Even when things aren't going right outside or inside a band, the thrill of making music and entertaining people hasn't gone away. In fact, as I've gotten older it's increased.

Strange.

Seriously!

Without sounding too pompous or over the top (although I KNOW it's gonna), I'm going to quote John Constantine from the movie "Constantine" - a movie I really dig, by the way: "Heaven and hell are right here, behind every wall, every window, the world behind the world. And we're smack in the middle." He also said "Officially, I was dead for two minutes... but believe me, two minutes in hell is a lifetime. " I think every professional musician in the world relates to those quotes, regardless how high in the food chain he or she sits. Even at my standard cover band/play the circuit/do the corporate events, personal gigs and other functions level, there's a lot of angst, heartbreak, frustration, disappointment, conflict, humiliation and downright deep-in-the-bones fatigue I go through.

But - no matter what - when it's go time, I STILL get excited about the possibility of tearing up some music with three other guys. I STILL anticipate the challenge of seeing a group of fresh faces who demand I keep them entertained - who stare at me with "So, what do YOU got?" I STILL appreciate the opportunity to do something that, really, a fairly small percentage of our world's population can and does do. I STILL can't wait until the first count-in to the first song of the night.

Strange.

Seriously!

Fans? Nope...Friends.

Professional musicians operate on several different levels. I'm going to simplify this because I could probably sub-compartmentalize it to DEATH, and who wants to read that? Anyway, you have:

• The big timers who've become part of our lexicon (U2, Rolling Stones, etc.)
• The support players for big name acts - touring the world
• Four kids driving cross-country in a van, living on peanut butter sandwiches and doing 300 gigs a year in 300 different towns
• Cover musicians doing various gigs

Three of the four normally have a built-in fanbase - that much is obvious. But in looking at my career as a cover musician I can honestly say this: even though I can play music because of hours upon hours of practice, accumulating contacts, becoming experienced enough to handle specific gigs/crowds, learning a zillion and one songs, keeping myself healthy, staying positive and interacting with really good musicians, I'd never be able to play one note outside of my garage...

...if it wasn't for the people who've supported me and the band.

These wonderful, giving and caring people are NOT Party Jones "fans" - not even close. They're "friends." People who, to see the band, make schedule changes, find babysitting, get in the car and drive awhile, scramble for a good seat, spend money at the restaurant and the bar (keeping the till spinning!) and bragging to management how good the band is. They also bring friends/relatives/relations to the gig, recommend the band to their bosses or event coordinators and generally make a room feel really "up" and postitive.

So - my relationship with those terrific people is a bit convoluted. I'M a fan of THEIRS, not the other way around, and believe me when I say I'd be playing the stereo in my garage rather than playing gigs in Cabo, Big Bear and at the Long Beach Grand Prix if it wasn't for them.

My friends - thank you for continuing to give me the opportunity to sing for you.

Close Eyes. Throw Dart.

As I've previously blabbed, a cover band musician needs to check ego/self-indulgence/attitude at the door and consider what makes the PEOPLE happy. That's why song selection is key to getting a working band a good gig.

I built Party Jones as a dance/pop/soul/R&B/"hits" cover band. Why? To get people dancing, of course - to tickle their brainstems with a nice memory about a song, to make them happy. Bigger picture, this would give us more gig options (corporate functions, personal events, holiday celebrations) and give me more selectivity when booking club dates. I'm not ripping club work - at a good club the energy, crowd proximity and acoustics are sweet - but there's only so far you can go on the circuit. A working cover band musician aims for the bigger gigs mentioned above.

However, streamlining a band means making hard choices song-wise. As I said before, a cover band musician gives him or herself over to playing songs that make THE CROWD - not the musician - happy. As for me, after so many years of regurgitating classic rock pablum for smaller and smaller crowds/gigs, I was ready to tailor an accessible cover pop band appealing to the broadest range of people possible. (ASIDE: muy importante' - I'm in NO WAY disparaging cover bands performing classic rock. John Lennon sang "Whatever Gets You Through the Night," and that sums it up. There are a lot of great classic rock cover bands out there - it's just not the road I choose to take.)

Although some classic rock songs do cross over into "pop" territory, and can work at a high-end corporate gig ("Brick House," "Honky-Tonk Woman," "Play That Funky Music," "Brown-Eyed Girl"), most don't, and instead become exercises in self-indulgence, familiarity and ease of playing for a band. Right away, this breaks (my) Rule #1 for a cover band - play FOR the people, not TO them.

So - how to pick songs that work for the majority of the band's gigs? It's an inexact science - like a dart throwing contest between Stevie Wonder and Jose Feliciano - but swaying the odds in your favor just takes a little gumption. I do homework. I've pulled a ton of songs from shows like "VH1's Number Ones" - and every song WORKS. They're popular and dancible, and were written to appeal to a wide range of people. Next, thanks to a great suggestion from Rob Ferrell (PJ's drummer) I also download a TON of "Most Popular Requests at Weddings and Functions" lists from the internet. I cross reference these lists and see which songs the lists have in common. Doing this has given me ideas I NEVER would've considered - and again, they work ("Love Shack," "Faith," "Walking on Sunshine," etc.). I also check out other bands I admire and see what's working for them. And you can't miss with one-hit wonders - and we'll be learning a gob of those before long.

After a few gigs, I'll know if a song is working or not. I inserted "You Give Love a Bad Name" into our set list, and it only lasted about six weeks. It didn't go over. It's now buried with Hoffa.

Finally, playing a dorky song is FUN if the band's behind it. As mentioned countless times, my cover band isn't built to placate the musicians, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun playing a song we may not like. If the band's attitude is good, everything else is good.

If the band's attitude sucks...?

That blog's coming, my friends.

...But it's a REALLY GOOD Paint-By-Numbers

Anatomy of a cover band, continued: I have no problem whatsoever playing ANY cover song, whether I like the song or not. You give yourself over to that when you decide to play in a cover band. The only difference, band-to-band, is how committed you are to placating the audience, what sort of venues you want to play and who your target audience is.

I've always looked at cover music like a paint-by-numbers painting. You know, I can spend big bucks on top of the line art supplies - paint, brushes, a nice easel - the whole works. When I bring home a high-quality paint-by-numbers Mona Lisa palette, I can agonize over each color, every brush stroke, the paint's consistency, the lighting in the room - all of it. And when I'm done I can say I've completed something that looks pretty nice.

However, at the end of the day the thing's still a knockoff of Leonardo Da Vinci's timeless classic. All I've done is recreated it the best I can to - hopefully - make the people who happen to see it happy.

Cover music's the same way. We, as cover musicians, aren't creating anything from scratch. We're doing our best to recreate the original for one reason: to make people happy. Sure, a band can place its stamp on a song, but by and large the template/boilerplate of the song was created by someone else. You're just trying to do the original justice, and by doing so you're giving the audience something THEY want - not what the MUSICIAN wants. That's the nature of cover music.

In my career as a professional musician I've had countless disagreements with musicians who think playing certain popular songs - songs the people coming to see you and the people paying you WANT to hear - is "selling out." I can't tell you how many times I've heard "that song sucks" or "I hate disco" or "I'll NEVER play that song" or "I don't want to do that - it's too lame/wimpy/insert YOUR adjective here." That attitude boggles my mind. So - you're saying a paint-by-numbers picture of a unicorn has LESS artistic merit than a paint-by-numbers of the Mona Lisa? You see where I'm going with this?

A cover band is built to make people happy, which in turn keeps the band working. Cover band musicans must relinquish ego for the good of the band and the crowd (ASIDE: although relinquishing ego is a must, a GOOD cover band has a swagger and cockiness about it - a confidence that says "we can knock any song out of the park - we're good players and love challenges. We'll play ANY cover song, cheesy or otherwise, and it'll BURN"). Exceptional musical competency, quality equipment, "up" or good attitudes, experience and a flair to entertain are MUSTS in this sort of band - but when the smoke clears, it ain't great art.

As for me - I satiate my artistic side and the need to create by following my muse and writing and recording my original music in my home studio (THAT blog is coming soon - ye gods). As for playing cover music, I have no problem whatsoever with doing ANY song, if that song gets the job done. After all - there's a reason it's called a "cover" band.

Tell Your Plumber That When He's Fixing Your Sink

I love hearing this: "Music isn't work. It's your passion." Subtract the word "music" and replace it with "plumbing," "driving a cab," "waiting tables" or "pouring concrete" and you'll see how downright stupid that phrase is.

Take it from me - a guy whose day gig is working 50 hours a week writing and editing copy - running a band and playing music is work.

BUT FIRST, A DISCLAIMER: These are my (Kenny's) thoughts. I can't speak for the collective hivemind of every musician on the planet, so don't go looking any of this up in "How to Run a Cover Band 101." Fair enough?

Anyway, nevermind the fact that I, as a working musician, have spent years practicing, learning, falling, failing, struggling and ultimately trying to do my damndest to get it right (most times I feel like I never will). In addition to trying to be a good, solid musician, running a band means I'm scrambling to book gigs, fighting tooth and nail for fair pay, desperately working to engage the crowd ("Are you not entertained?!" screams Russell Crowe in "Gladiator," and notice - his tone is sarcastic and cynical), keeping the owners rolling in clover, making sure the clients and their guests dig the band, keeping the PR machine (web page, mailing lists, promo packages, pictures, videos, musical recordings and - hey! - a blog) running smoothly, dialing in the PA, updating the calendar and notifying the band/booking agents/club owners about changes, feeling the pressure as I pray the band not only has a good attitude but knows the material (because, since I booked the gigs I'M the band's face - and if a band member decides to throw 'tude at a manager or another authority figure, it's MY reputation and I have to go crawling to said authority figure with apologies/explanations for boorish behavior), being the lightening rod for the band's criticism of the venue/money/etc. and staying friendly with all of my contacts.

All of that is draining enough and there've been hundreds of times I've wondered "Why didn't I just join a pre-built band looking for a singer and let someone else deal with the headaches? I'll plug in, sing, get paid, leave and wait for the next gig." But wait! There's more!

I play in a four-piece band (voice and three instruments) - four musicians with completely dissimilar personalities. What can you expect when four different people try to create one sound? Arguments, tantrums, disagreement over the band's direction, apathy, an almost complete absense of culpability, power struggles of varying shapes and sizes, carelessness, a surplus of self-importance coupled with a lack of humility and a steady stream of grumbling and whining. It sounds like marriage, doesn't it? Except for the fact that - again in my case - it's four guys in the marriage, not two.

Ah - so now you're saying "Kenny, you narcissistic weenie. Bitch, bitch, bitch. If you hate it so much, why run a band? Why play music?" Two part answer here. The "running the band" part is because I have goals I'd like to meet while playing in a cover band, and - frankly - I'm tired of following someone else when I trust my own instincts and judgement. Also, I walked away from a really successful combo to completely start over and do exactly what I wanted to do. I'm the guy behind the curtain, grinding out most of the thankless crap work in addition to doing the singing. The band may not be named after me but it sure has my name ON it. By default, that makes me the captain.

Which means...what? It means if a group of guys share this outlook we work together. If not? No worries - allegedly, we're all professionals. I've had disagreements with plenty of musicians about musical projects, and that's OK - we agree that I'll follow my road, they can follow theirs and (in most cases) we shake hands and part ways as friends. Live and let live - you do your thing and I'll do mine, and let's not tell the other how to do it. Sting summed it up perfectly when he called a band a "benevolent dictatorship." After playing music professionally for 27 years I'm just now understanding exactly what he meant.

And the music part? If it's such a headache - if doing all the work, grinding out the thankless tasks to make an easy road for others and getting beat up by elements outside AND inside the band is such a hassle - why do I do it? Simple - it takes years for a grain of sand to become a pearl. It takes immense pressure for a chunk of coal to become a diamond. Anything beautiful and worthwhile -no matter how fleeting - is the result of hard work and heartache.

Next, I really, really, REALLY enjoy playing music that makes people happy. There's nothing like seeing people smile when a certain song is played, or seeing two people in love slow dance to a favorite song. It's a rush when a packed house shouts in unison when busting into the first few bars of a really popular song. That, and playing live music has blessed me with many genuine and wonderful friendships. You can't put a price on that.

But ultimately - and again, I'm sounding narcissistic - it's not like I have a choice about wanting to play music. I write and edit copy to make a living. I play music to live.

Drunken Doofuses Control Space and Time?

What's great about playing in a cover band (by "great" I mean "more sucky than Dracula at a 'Hey, Look! Everybody's Comatose and Can't Move But They Still Have Healthy Blood!' convention") is when you're hitting the finish line - you know, the end of the night - and things get weird. You've left everything on stage because you refuse to cheat the crowd. You feel like a wrung-out dishcloth. The people who've been there with you all night, like National Guardsmen, taking up arms with you, are exhausted as well. Further, they've taken time out of their schedules to come see you, to buy drinks at club, and generally rally around your band (in my case, Party Jones).

So you're sweating, you're exhausted, your knees feel like two overripe grapefruits and you're busting into the second to last song. And then...

Duh Duh DAAAAAAH! Here comes the drunk, angry fat guy stumbling through the front door and wondering when you're going to "get the party started!" And then it hits you - alcohol actually FREEZES TIME! That's my theory, anyway - this guy's been knocking back one Colt .45 after another at some one-room bar that smells like hot vinyl and wet dog and time stopped for him. Then, he decides he's going to go see some live music, but the minute he sets down his last drool-encrusted mug - TIME STARTS AGAIN!

So, when he stumbles into Petes on the Beach and sees Party Jones finishing up the night, this poor, inbred freak has no idea that he's actually mastered time and space. All he can do is wave his hands (like Coco the gorilla saying "I love you!") and slur "you're not done! Keep playing! C'mon, keep it going!"

This frightens me. Where's Stephen Hawkings when you need 'im?