Oh, the gigantic gulf between the public perception of big rock stars and the grim reality of it all...
So. Clutch and I set out from SF early Friday morning to spend the weekend being roadies/guitar & drum techs for that legendary band The Tubes. Not only have I been a fan for many years, as any right-minded person should be, but I have in various points been a student of their music. We covered "Talk To You Later" in high school, and it's harder than it sounds. Good bass players hate that song...
We hit the road by 8ish am, and promptly got a flat tire in Vacaville. Spare tire airless, and no lug wrench to be found. Bastards stole it along with my stereo some time ago. Clutch hopped the fence by the freeway, stormed into the little roadside motel looking for help. Meanwhile, there I am trying not to get hit by speeding semis and grateful that we had included "contingency time" into our travel plans. Nothing defines "contingency" quite like a flat tire.
15 minutes later, Clutch appears with a fatigues-clad motel groundskeeper in a golf cart, brandishing the most beautiful lug wrench I've ever seen. We thanked the man, put the flat donut on the car, and headed to the nearest tire dealership at 25 mph, 2 freeway exits away, directions provided by Fatigue Man. We somehow managed to keep his lug wrench.
Tire Boy was awfully friendly, and moved us to the head of the line. While we were waiting, Fatigue Man came roaring up out of nowhere, demanding to know where his wrench was. We gave it back to him, very apologetically. He decided to be an asshole, and called us some names before roaring away again. Can't blame him, really; we stole his appliance. But any guilt I felt was instantly assuaged by the Bush/Cheney sticker on his stupid SUV.
From flat to fix, 90 minutes. No problem. Plenty of time. Boisterously singing "On The Road Again", we charged down the 80 to Tahoe and got to the Tahoe Biltmore Hotel and Casino. Literally about six inches into Nevada. Nevada smells funny.
For the next 4 hours or so, I started making friends with real genuine rock stars (this outing there were three original members; Fee Waybill, Rick Anderson, and Roger Steen. The drummer was Lou Molino, who plays with Trevor Rabin and Yes, among others. Prairie Prince, the founding drummer, was on tour in Japan with Todd Rundgren. Dave and Gary were the keyboard players). Let me tell you, if they don't strike you at first as total assholes, they strike you as just normal people. This band does have at least two assholes in it. More about keyboard players later...
The first show was great, despite the whiney pissant monitor mixer's utter lack of skill or talent whatsoever (a note to monitor guys; howling painful feedback is completely inexcusable, and you should be dragged out into the alley and beaten with your own arms if it happens more than once and/or longer than 2 seconds. I didn't get this guy's name, but he might want to think about a nice safe cubicle job somewhere). And DAMN, can this band sing! 4 part harmonies all over the place, rarely a dropped note, completely rehearsed and tight, all from the gut.
Strange hotel. There was a buffet backstage that was open 24 hours, and we could just go and attack it any time we wanted. Clutch made the mistake of having some of the funny-lookin' potato salad, and was up all night long driving the porcelain bus. Poor bastard. I did a little gambling, and lost all of $5. Fine by me. I'm glad I've been spared that vice. Casinos are sad places. Nobody had any praise for the altitude. Rick: "Get me off this goddamn mountain!! I can't fucking breathe!"
Show #2. Pouring-ass rain. Sacramento is a very odd place. Looks like San Jose, but a lot deader. We pull into the Crest Theater (oh BOY do they not make 'em like that anymore) and only then do we discover that this gig is a very expensive wedding reception. The Tubes playing a wedding: "I told them it should be Spinal Tap first, Puppet Show second..." Oh, how the bitching and moaning flew. After the show, Geoff, the long-time road manager/sound guy, remarked that it was the worst show they had played in 25 years.
As promised, a nasty word or nine about keyboard players, prefaced by an old saw of a joke:
What do you call a thousand keyboard players chained together at the bottom of a lake?
I don't know, Eric. What DO you call a thousand keyboard players chained together at the bottom of a lake?
A good start.
At the risk of displaying dreadful partisanship, all of them can just more or less kiss my dimpled ass. P. Rusty Gunn is the only exception I can think of at the moment. You goddamn keys guys need to learn a thing or two about how to treat other people, other musicians, and especially people who are hauling your gear. "Please" and "Thank you" (remember your mom telling you about those words? Sesame Street maybe?) go a long way toward making a happy road crew, and these guys were just a little too slow with them. Gary and Dave are the two newbies in this band. Dave has been in it for 8 years, and Gary for about 4. They fight at every gig, venting in front of everybody. They fight about the stupidest shit imaginable. I'll never understand why being a "superior" musician like a keyboard player somehow automatically provides the entitlement to tell others the way everything under the sun should be. Also, laptops on stage should be hidden, not shown off, especially if you're singing and your computer is obscuring your face. They just look stupid. They torpedo the crucial discipline of stage aesthetics. Billium, if you read this, I'd love for you to spout about all this, because I'm pretty sure you have the answers...
Next show, 3 hours later, at The Boardwalk in Sac. A racehorse of a loadout and loadin, and accomplished like champs. One of the finest shows I've ever seen, pouring rain again, packed club. Nice.
The Tubes. What a fun hairy adventure that was, and I'm still sore as hell. 30 years and counting, and egos still a'flyin'. Olivia Newton John beat them out sometime in the early 80s with "Xanadu" for Best Song at the Grammys. I'd be pissed too.
Fee Waybill remains to this day one of the most vital and powerful singers rock music has ever produced. He is a consumate entertainer, the best kind of professional, and a nice fellow to boot. He did the Quay Lude thing twice, and I genuinely feared for his safety a few times. Roger and Rick are also swell fellas, and better musicians you could never hope to hear.
Geoff says he'll call me for more of the same in the future. I'll do it for free if we can open the show...
www.thetubes.com
Posted by eric at October 25, 2004 11:47 PM