Spontaneity

Turns out you can't throw Tim off the trail with a bunch of songs he ain't heard --even if you make him play piano for some of 'em. Continuing in the swashbuckling, fancy-free spirit of our other recent "Cody & Tim" shows, I veered steeply off the beaten path with Saturday's set list for Elevated.


With Steve & Evan unavailable, Tim texted me in what might have been an exceptionally well-disguised panic, asking what instruments to bring. Playing his fear like the harmonica of which I am master, I told him to surprise me. [Insert "Mwah-ha-ha" here]. He showed up with no bass, just guitar. Touche, Krajcar, touche.

All kidding aside, one of the things that connects Tim and me musically is our multi-instrumental spirit of heady adventure --just like British school chums! Speranza once explained to a perplexed recording engineer that Flip Nasty's style was "playing four feet past the edge of our ability," and that still holds true today with The Men Your Mama Warned You About. My goal is to play the songs differently each night, and to that end, I favor bandmates who are bold and improvisatory, and I particularly value multi-instrumentalists. And Tim's no exception. While not a flashy player, he is nonetheless a great foil, taking opportune risks without completely abandoning the illusion of familiarity. He is unflappable and in on the con at every level.

So on this slow, rainy night, we wound our way through familiar songs with new twists (e.g., "Coyote" with Tim carrying on piano, "Puppy" in 6/8, building on the Leaky Joe arrangement), favorite rarities ("Love Is All The Gold" in its vaunted drop-C, "Along") and songs I don't think I've ever played live ("Rain Today," "Garbage," "Dance With Me Anyway," "Daughter of Our Enemy").

I figure I can keep playing for maybe 10, maybe 15 more years. And as I slowly set down the dream of somehow catapulting into a spectaculr rock star fantasy, and instead embrace my love of music as simply part of my balancing act of identity and spirit, it's these gigs where I became immersed in the task of performance that ultimately yield my fondest memories.

Sub Sandwich



(l-r) Me with 3 subs: Nate, Will, Scott
Rusty Grape, 2011



This past weekend, I played one of my favorite venues with a band made up entirely of short-notice subs.



One of the original selling points I offered to the players who became The Men Your Mama Warned You About was flexibility. As much as possible, I try to book shows that I could ultimately play solo, and let the boys join in as they may. However, some situations and/or venues require that we appear as a band, and in those cases, if someone can't make it, we have to adjust.


Our first choice is to make do with a smaller lineup, which is typically possible if any one member of the band can't make it. Steve's role as lead guitarist is the easiest to compensate for in absentia. In the event that he can't make it, Tim, Evan, and I simply fall back to our old trio lineup and fulfill our "band obligation." Evan's absence is also easy to work around --provided that both Tim & Steve will make the gig-- since I can resume my Flip Nasty role as singing drummer, and let Steve handle the chord changes as a Speranzesque hybrid rhythm/lead guitarist.

John Speranza on guitar, me on bass,
Paris on the Platte c.1992

Tim is the hardest player to replace.  The bass player has to know the songs inside out, hit every chord, and fit every groove.  In theory, if Steve & Evan were available, either Steve or I would cover bass (probably Steve, since my ability to sing and play bass live has been "kind of" sketchy when tested previously in The Stunt Beatles and ROQUE).

But if 2+ players drop out of a show, I have to find a sub if the venue's expecting a full band. As mentioned above, normally, I wouldn't try to find a guitar sub --lead parts are optional in a pinch, and my rhythm (chord) parts are too complicated to master in time. Drums are the easiest element to sub, provided we have time to line someone up. As a drummer (and erstwhile sub, myself), I know how to evaluate players for the critical qualities our situation requires (great clock, decent chops, range of basic styles), and also how to modify our set to make it friendly to a cold player (no odd- or mixed-meter, I count off & keep time so they can just follow & react). Bass is a problem. As with drums, it helps to simplify. Lead time is even more important, to allow the player to get familiar with the material. But ultimately, the pool of available bass players is very small, and the burden of learning 20-30 unfamiliar songs (you know, besides my big college radio hits) is steep. My first choice would be a known pro, if the share was sufficient to entice them. Jonathan Chase subbed a 5-hour gig for Tim with minimal advance prep, and was fantastic, but expensive. My next choice would be anyone who already knew my material by ear --even if bass was a second instrument to them. But I don't have access to a John Speranza, Derek Sanchez, or Memphis Evans here in Portland. My next choice would be someone whose musical sensibilities I trust, with some familiarity, and a knack for winging it. Alex Arrowsmith would fit the bill here in PDX. Past that, I'd be looking for recommendations from other players I know, then turning finally to Craig's List, hat in hand.



So returning to my pickle from this weekend, here's how the events unfolded. First, Steve dropped out because of work. This was fine, as with our Tim/Evan/Cody trio, we could still cover any song in the set and also meet our obligation to the venue to provide full band "entertainment" for their outdoor series. The scramble began in earnest when Tim had to pull out 2 weeks prior to the show because of a scheduling conflict. First I ran it by Jonathan Chase, but the share was too far below his rate. Then I asked Alex Arrowsmith, but he wasn't available. Then I asked Tim for a recommendation, and he said his friend, Will, could pull it off. I floated the idea by him, and he was up for it. I crafted a gentle set list, sent him recordings & lead sheets of each song I planned to do, and scheduled a runthrough. In a situation like this, I don't really expect the sub on bass to reproduce the recorded bass lines of either my arrangements (the John Fried parts or what I played on LSF)--I just need them to hit the roots, maybe dance around the 5th or a passing tone here & there, and find some way to lock in with the drums. But it's still a lot to handle.


With about a week to go, Will gave me a heads-up that he was concerned about how much he'd have under his fingers by the gig. At our runthrough on the Monday prior to showtime, he was solid, but wisely conservative. To take some pressure off of him, I decided to find a lead guitar sub for Steve after all. I'd shared a few bills with Scott Brockett in the past and knew he was friendly, dependable, and a top-notch player. He was up for it, and I sent him the same stuff as Will in case he wanted to listen through. At this point, I'm picturing Evan & me locked in and burning, Scott creating some freely-improvised counter-melodic interest, and Will holding down the pocket. In my mind's ear, this was going to work out just fine.


Day before the gig, Evan gets orders that take him out of the picture.


So I turn to my list. With 24-hours, it is thin. First, I offer it to Jen Brockett, Scott's wife and drummer in his band. I've seen Jen play, and she's just what I'm looking for: someone with an unshakable clock and good chops. But she's only been playing for a few years, and doesn't feel confident to play the gig cold. Next, I turn to my neighbor Bill McDonald, current drummer for Budget Airlines, former drummer for Camper Van Beethoven, and someone who has played with me several times before. His response: "Well, I've got another show next night in Astoria. I could do it, but you might have to put me up for a few weeks when my wife finds out."


At this point, it's hours until the show. I read every ad on Craig's List for "drummer looking...." and try to make some evaluations.


And now, a Public Service Announcement for "Drummers Looking":
It would be helpful if you'd include a link to some kind of sample of your playing. Possibly even more helpful than the 30-band list of influences that is the current centerpiece of your resume. That's how I picked this awesome dude, once upon a time:





So I filter through those with samples, find players who have suitable chops and clock, look for clues that they're not afraid to wing it, then send them emails asking if they want work TONIGHT. I offer an equal share plus I'll provide drums, set-up, and tear-down. In other words, show up, play, get paid. With each, I ask that they call my cell immediately if interested. As the time grows short, I send the same message out to a few players who have no sample, but some other factor that gives me at least nominal confidence in their ability (beyond their influences, that is).


4:30 rolls around, and nary a nibble.


At this point, I decide to load up my drums anyway, just in case, and head out to the gig. I figure maybe someone will call, or maybe Jen will have a change of heart, or maybe Evan will go AWOL. These all seem like reasonable probabilities.


As I'm dropping my kids off with Grandma, I get the call.


"Hey, man, this is Nate from Craig's List. Do you still need a drummer tonight?" I remember his ad. No sample, but 11 years playing, and looking to do something with more jazz crossover.


"Yes. It's in Battle Ground, starts at 7:00, and I'm headed there now. I've got drums, and I'll set 'em up and tear 'em down. You got the address in my email."


(pause) "Cool. Cool."


"So, Nate, here's the deal. I'm a drummer, and this is going to be a follow-along type gig. I'll be playing guitar and holding it all together. So I'm going to let you self-select, here. If you watched the links I sent you, you know what I'm all about. If you feel up for it, let's do this."


"Cool."


And with that, I hung up and hit the road. I was relieved that the scramble to fill out the band was over, but nervous at the prospect of playing a show with so much unfamiliarity surrounding me. Will was comparatively the grizzled vet, having played with me for one hour in my living room the preceding Monday. On the drive, I tried to plan for disasters and anticipate where we might hit snags.


But then it all went off without a hitch. Scott was brilliant. He soloed with flair and endless sensitive creativity, bringing a captivating new dimension to the performance. Will was rock-steady, knew the route through every song, and needed no life jacket. Nate (formerly with All the Apparatus) kept the pocket neat and found good grooves with Will. What could've been a catastrophe turned into a truly special show.


And now I have three new names at the top of my sub list.


 

"Christopher Walken" prefers his scat-rock sans flim-flam

Strictly speaking, there is *no reason* for you not to record yourself on your fancy video-ma-phone, reciting a blurb from my music calendar in your best Christopher Walken voice. None. Go.



And that is why Memphis Evans is a person I like.

We've Got The Cover, Now We Just Need To Record The Album

First off, Chachi Hernandez is sweet.

Dear Chachi,
I require the most bitchin' Heavy Metal/Dungeons & Dragons album cover known to man for my forthcoming 20th-Anniversary retrospective re-recording ROQUE: REDUXX. Past and present members of the band will need to be represented as archetypal warrior avatars in the classic adventurer party oeuvre. Liberties will be taken to represent not the outer, but the inner fitness and badassness of said musicians. Some (TBD) will require battleaxes, and I should probably be an honest-to-God Viking. Ritual objects of conquest and vanquished foes (some of whom should definitely be orcs) should also be on glorious display such that it is immediately apparent to all who perouse the album that these guys totally kick ass. Don't forget the wenches.

Proof The Internet is Working

Among the search terms that successfully brought people to http://codyweathers.com/ over the past year:


pityrings skin disease
free note of manure
Instrument to see through tounge
what is the secret to the frumples
how do you apply horse manuer on the hair
looking for my soulmate in china free site
dreams a helicopter drops down and steals a dog
lucked up inside my madam cage
nasty picture of santa flipping the bird
monkey that eats bad thoughts
funky words to write cody

Because We're Awesome, We Are Canceled

We played a really great set last night at the Carefree Lounge. Evan & Tim were locked in, we nailed our regular songs, and had fun with a few last-minute additions. Our performance was energetic and musical, and many people commented on how much they liked us. We were looking forward to playing our second night.


But as you can guess, that's all moot. The ownership was shocked to discover that we are not a cover band. Perhaps it's my fault. Perhaps I wasn't clear enough in my initial emails to them where I described our music as "original acoustic rock." Perhaps my songs are just so awesome that when they heard them, they simply assumed that I was demonstrating my mastery of the hits of today, and didn't realize that those catchy tunes were of my own invention. Perhaps that's why the owner needed to meet me in person.... but not hear me play or talk about my music. He was star-struck. He just wanted my autograph. And to negotiate paying me far less than a top-flight cover band with a draw would make. But I'm sure there's an explanation for that, too. I'm sorry, Carefree Lounge. Here, I thought I'd made it abundantly clear what I bring to the table, but in fact --yet again-- my awesomeness stunned you into a deep state of confusion. You're right. It's probably better that you have karaoke for our second night. Karaoke is much easier to understand.

Paying Dues Evermore

Of late, I've been paying more attention to Craig's List than I should. Ostensibly, I'm fishing for new gigs for me & the boys, or new likeminded bands to network with, but --if I'm completely honest-- I'm largely in it for the bickering.

Having children has made me highly-attuned to the tiniest hint of tension, and constantly ready to spring into action as arbiter for any petty conflict that reaches my ears. And when I'm not embroiled in true childish argument, I fill the aching void with the next best thing: reading the semi-materialized gripes of my fellow struggling musicians.

Of late, their bloods been a-boilin' over what they perceive to be the weedlike creep of open stages across the Portland music scene. Here are some actual caricatures to present the rabble-rabble arguments of those opposed:

CARICATURE #1: Rabble-rabble! Those durn venue owners and their confounded open stages! Tarnation! They're getting music fer free and makin' musicians pay for beer to boot!

CARICATURE #2: Rabble-rabble! You fool sucker musicians playing these open stages are ruining our tenuous grip on the market. BOYCOTT OPEN STAGES! Insist on fair pay for all musicians! Living wage! Unionize!

False, false, false, and false, sirs.

Look, I'd love to make my living from playing. I'm passionate about it, I'm dedicated, and I'm skilled, but get real. An attempted career in music has an arc. There is a ladder, and the bottom rungs exist to position you for your ascent.

• Learn your instrument(s)
• Learn to play with others
• Write something
• Learn to play in public (here's where open stages come in)
• Improve
• Book a gig
• Attract some fans
• Improve
• Make an album
• Book bigger gigs
• Attract the notice of the press
• Improve
• repeat, repeat, repeat, or so I've been told

Being an aspiring musician is more like being an aspiring astronaut than being an aspiring accountant. You've got to work as hard as you can, take advantage of every opportunity, distinguish yourself at every step and still come to grips with the fact that you will probably not make the final cut despite your dedication and deservedly-hard work. In all likelihood, you will find yourself resting breathless on a middle rung, still looking upward, still paying dues --too committed to quit, but so very far away from success.

Oh, and incidentally, open stages aren't generally free to the venues. 90% of the time, this off-night event is hosted by a professional musician who is getting paid. It's possible I know this for a fact.

Now, do some venues seek that bottom rung population? Yes. There are venues with only open stage nights. There are venues that book artists to play for tips only. But there are times where that is the right opportunity. If your band is comfortable playing open stages, you've got to move on to full-night sets. And tips-only gigs may be your next step up. Take full advantage of them. You need video. You need live recordings. You need new fans. You need a list of places you've played to help convice bigger venues that you know what you're doing.

Great musicians can find places to play. I'm not even great, and I've had no trouble landing small paying gigs within a month of re-entering the scene. But I still like hitting open stages to meet other musicians and to tune up new material. Boycott, shmoycott. If you want a living wage, go do something that has an unsaturated market value. There are fewer people who can effectively use apostrophes than can get up on stage and belt out the old sing-songs. I hate to break it to you, but this is a quixotic dreamer's life, destined for failure, but unrelentingly tantalizing to those that're bit.

The fact of the matter is that there are literally 10,000 bands who are failing more effectively than me.

The fact of the matter is I'm way better than 100,000 bands who are failing worse than me.

The fact of the matter is no one reading this post will make it big.

The fact of the matter is, we all deserve our shot.