I think everybody's life has its moments: sweet, exciting, funny, crushing. I will be posting personal vignettes. They are not meant to be monumental or profound...obviously.

You Guys Stink

Jodi Siegel and I played music together for 11 years, full-time. We played as a duet and, later, as a 5-piece band. She's a great singer/songwriter/slide-guitar player and we always had a lot of fun. She called me "Willy Vanilli" and I called her "Bon Jodi."

In 1987 we released a CD called "BEER & DONUTS"-a grab-bag collection of blues-flavored songs produced by Freebo (long-time bass player for Bonnie Raitt.) A friend of Freebo's, "Catfish" Hodge, booked us a "U.S. tour," 5 weeks, 10,000 miles, Jodi and I and all of our equipment in my Hyundai.

Our first gig was in Houston, Texas, opening for the Yellowjackets at a place called Rockefeller's. It took us 3 days to drive there from Southern California ("one day to get to Texas, 2 more to drive across it") and we arrived at the club early Saturday afternoon, in plenty of time for the gig that night. Rockefeller's was a 100-year-old stone building that had been a bank and stagecoach stop. As a concert hall, it held maybe 500 people. We were "greeted" by the Yellowjackets' new road manager with, "OH, NO! The contract says the opening act is supposed to be a comedian! NO WAY a blues duet is opening! The band's equipment is carefully set up! We can't move or alter any settings! The band's 'sound' cannot be RUINED!," etc., etc.

This, of course, made us feel very welcome and comfortable. We were beat from constant driving and road food. We both had brand new amps we were hoping to "dial in" during a soundcheck. We were to stay that night at Jodi's cousin's house somewhere in the 'burbs but didn't have enough time to go there and back. On top of everything, the cousin and wife and friends were coming that night to see us play. Things were not going well.

The club sound-guy pulled us aside and said he would "straighten things out…just come back tonight for the gig." So there we were, stuck with 4 or 5 hours to kill, not knowing if we would be playing or not. We walked down the street to a B-B-Q place and sat around picking at french-fries until the alleged gig time.

We ended up playing the first show (the road manager obviously not pleased) rolling our unfamiliar amps out onto the very front edge of the stage, in front of the monitors. Our set started off pretty shakey, what with amp adjustments and no vocal monitors, and after the very first song a guy stands up and yells, "YOU GUYS STINK!" We were dying. But, we were also "pro's." We dug in a little deeper, got settled sound-wise, and did our "Willy/Jodi thing" and managed to win over the crowd by the time our 45-minute set was done.

As we got off the stage we were greeted by the owner, a handsome, white-haired, 60-ish man of American Indian descent, wearing a finely tailored suit. "Please follow me" was all he said, and, for what seemed like an eternity, he lead us, silently, down hallways, up stairs and through iron gates until we finally reached his office. Jodi and I both had visions of the gas chamber.

Once in his office, however, he turned out to be as nice as could be. Surrounded by pictures of himself with B.B. King, with Bonnie Raitt, etc., he said "I like you guys. You hung in there and played some solid blues. Texans like blues. I think you are a good opening act for this show…unfortunately, their road manager does not feel the same way. He is very uptight and does not want you to open the 2nd set or the show on Sunday. Of course, I will pay you anyway." So, we joined the cousin and friends at their balcony table, gave them the run-down and waited for the Yellowjackets' set to start.

Their first song was dynamite, great playing all around with a stunning mix of sound. As the applause died down the same guy stood up and yelled, "YOU GUYS STINK!" Well, there you are.

After the set, Jodi and I went across the street to the Club Hey-Hey ("Catfish" had sent them a CD, trying to book us there), and the doorman said, "Hey, aren't you 'Beer and Donuts?' I love your CD. Come on in!" Things were looking up. We also met Duke Robillard that night.

The next afternoon the cousin treated us to a great B-B-Q…Steaks, corn-on-the-cob, black-eyed peas and hushpuppies. We feasted and partied. At 6 Rockefellers called and said, "the Yellowjackets want you to open the show tonight…so get on down here!" So much for relaxing. When we arrived, all the Yellowjackets came into our closet-size dressing room to meet us and apologize for the mix-up. We opened our set with a medium slow shuffle in the key of E, just to let our dinner settle, and everything was AOK.

Battle of the Bands

I bought my first electric guitar about 1967. It was a Strat but it was in pieces. I paid $40 and took it home in a shopping bag. I painted it black and when I finally got it working I was pumped. I had been playing acoustic folk music for about 6-7 years but was gone on the Beatles, Stones, etc. I had just heard "Fresh Cream" and couldn't wait to play in a rock & roll band.

One of the other teachers where I taught, a great guitarist named Bob Reilly, asked me to play rhythm guitar in his band, "The Blazers." The band was kind of a surf/blues/good-time band and included his brother Tim on bass and a couple other wise-guys. (You may have heard Mike Reilly, their younger brother, who tours/records with his own terrific blues band.) Anyway, I was in a band! We played a lot of parties and low-budget gigs but were developing what we thought was a rather original sound.

KFWB, a local radio station, ran a "Battle of the Bands." We entered. They played tapes of the groups all day long and requested the listening audience to send in postcards for their favorites. All of our friends and students rallyed spectacularly and eventually got us into the "Top 10." These ten bands were to play at "The Golden Bear," a legendary club in Huntington Beach. (I had worked there in 1963/64 but that's another story.)

The big night finally came and we were ready with a Fred Neil song entitled "The Bag I'm In," complete with a sort of blues-counterpoint instrumental section and my way-too-soulful vocal. Luckily, we went on second because, although we played OK, we were pretty much out of our league as all the other bands were way more pro. Especially the last band, "Taj Mahal and the Rising Sons" whose personnel included Ry Cooder. They steamed! Funky, funky vocals, harp, slide guitar and a rhythm section that killed.

Well, it was one of those tests of character that makes you wonder why you, personally, were born. I felt like kissing off playing the guitar and singing and would have if not for the fact that The Rising Sons were so inspiring. By the time I got home I was over it and couldn't wait to get to practicing.

By the way, we didn't win. Neither did Taj. Go figure.

Tap Dancing Class

I once got a wild hair to take a tap-dancing class. I must have been in my early thirties. As I recall it was during the summer and I hitchhiked about 5 miles up the coast to get there. It was a community college course and there were 10-12 women in their sixties wearing tights and tap shoes with ribbons for bows. I was the only guy.

I found these great shoes at a thrift store--light blue and white suede--San Remo's, from Italy--and even though they were size 13 (to my size 11) I put taps on them. The class was a gas and we learned a whole 32-bar tap routine in 8 weeks.

The instructor (Dorothy Jo) said I danced like Ray Bolger. I took it as a compliment even though she might have been referring to my almost falling down every 3 or 4 steps.

I've forgotten the routine now, but I still remember the cool feeling of being able to tapdance through a whole chorus of "Moonglow." After a while, I took off the taps and wore those shoes until they could be fixed no more.

Chuck Berry's Rider

1976. The United States Bicentennial. Some historic ship had docked in Newport Beach and on it a Fourth-of July party was to be held. Chuck Berry was booked to headline, along with some local band...I was in that local band..."Storyville""..as eclectic, goofy, and inspired bunch of rascals as there ever was (but that's another story).

The gig ended up being cancelled at the very last minute (the ship, it seems, was a hazard and had to be moved…immediately), but before that happened, when we were signing our contract, we got a peek at Chuck Berry's "rider," a document attached to the "money" part of the contract, that listed the "personal" requirements of the artist.

Now there are many legendary "riders"…Frank Sinatra, apparently, had a detailed list of specific liquors, mixes (and, of course, a bartender), cigarettes, lifesavers, gum and various "finger-foods" so his entourage would be happy..…When "Honk" (a band I was in earlier) toured with the Beach Boys, the legendary surf group required 50 ripe avocados in addition to certain amounts of fresh fruit, bottled water, etc. (we all ate well, God bless 'em)…Arrowsmith supposedly required large bowls of M&M's, with all the brown ones removed.

Anyway, Chuck's rider requested two Dual Showman bottoms & two Dual Showman Reverb tops (the amps Chuck liked to play through), a microphone and P.A. system, a back-up band that knew "the standard Chuck Berry repertoire" (that was us), and (this is the part that kills me) "a dressing room with a bathroom with hot water and a mirror."

"The Father of Rock & Roll"…(a title he deserves)…the man who wrote Johnny B. Goode, Maybellene, Roll Over Beethoven, School Days, Rock & Roll Music, Sweet Little Sixteen, Oh Carol, Memphis, Almost Grown, Back in the U.S.A., Nadine, No Particular Place To Go and Promised Land (to name but a few) had to specify "hot water and a mirror." I don't know, I just can't remember any songs that Frank Sinatra wrote.

Storyville had contracts…..Did we get paid?…..Nah…..Did Chuck Berry?…..I hope so.