| Dr. Bobblog #6 (Dec. 2008 - Feb. 2009) |
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Staying Drunk 24/7 and Still Creating Legitimate Rock 'n' Roll -or- They Used to Laugh and Call Him Names Rolling Stones guitarist Ron Wood is scheduled to get out of rehab by Christmas. I hope he's okay. He's been in a long time. Ron Wood is a true rock 'n' roll warrior. By that I mean that he has been able to stay plastered for decades and still help to create genuinely awesome rock 'n' roll. His party credentials are beyond dispute. A few years ago he was rumored to have a five-thousand-dollar-a-day freebase habit. The monkey on one's back doesn't get any larger. His musical credentials are even more astounding. He first came to international prominence as the bass player in the original Jeff Beck Group in the late '60s. When Beck's vocalist, Rod Stewart, broke away, Wood followed him into the Faces. A few years of early '70s boozy brilliance followed. In the Faces, Wood switched from bass to guitar. That was the spot he filled when he became Keith Richards' perfect musical foil upon joining the Stones in the mid - '70s, a relationship which continues to this day. Speaking of paying some serious party dues - how about being Keith Richards' best bud for three decades? The toll was already evident even way back in 1979 when I saw Wood in Salt Lake City as guitarist and main vocalist in a Keith Richards' side project called the New Barbarians. (Which, incidentally, also included legendary bassist Stanley Clark and Ziggy Modeliste, the drummer from the New Orleans - based Meters.) Anyway, when Woody hit the Salt Palace stage that night he was so sloshed that he had to read all the lyrics from a music stand next to his microphone stand. And we are not talking epic poems here, folks. Wood had to read the lyrics to such relatively uncomplicated fare as "Jumpin' Jack Flash." That's what the loss of a few million brain cells will do for you. Incidentally, the guitarist Wood replaced in the Stones - Mick Taylor - was indisputably the best ax man to ever play in the band. (Listen to the live album "Get Your YaYa's Out" or such studio tracks as "Can't You Hear Me Knockin'.") When Taylor quit the band because he was bored with their music, Mick Jagger was so pissed that he snipped: "Now we can get a guitar player who knows how to put on his own makeup." Anyway, somebody suggested half-jokingly the other day that Keith Richards was the fourth best guitarist to ever play in the Rolling Stones. This person, a rather knowledgeable Nashville type, suggested the following rankings: 1) Mick Taylor 2) Brian Jones 3) Ron Wood 4) Keith Richards The top spot is beyond argument. But this person might have been overestimating the late Brian Jones' contributions during the band's early era. Although he did come up with some interesting parts here and there, such as the excellent sitar stylings on "Paint it, Black," the recorder on "Ruby Tuesday," and the thumping piano on "Let's Spend the Night Together," in the months before he drowned in his swimming pool he was reportedly always passed out on the recording studio floor during the band's sessions, thereby forcing the group to kick him out shortly before his death. Since Wood and Richards play almost identically, it seems a fairer ranking would be a three-way tie for second with Jones. Regardless, none of them are the fifth-worst guitarist in the band. That would be one Mr. Mick Jagger who plays guitar like a girl (but looks good doing it). He probably sucks on guitar because he doesn't stay drunk 24/7 like everybody else on the list. In my own small way throughout my three-decade career as a journeyman bar band member, I have always tried to remain true to the idea that, like Ron Wood, to create truly legitimate rock 'n' roll one must aspire to remain drunk in the process. My college group, the Barney Fife Band, was a perfect example. While the bulk of our adventures are chronicled elsewhere in this website (click on "History"/"Barney Fife Band"), suffice it to say that the three founding members - Robert "Sam" Walker (aka "Too Tall"), hard-working bassist Kirk Johnson (a vocal dead ringer for John Fogerty and Buddy Holly), and myself - were always drunk onstage. This performance approach sometimes produced dire consequences. For instance, we once were an early opening act at an all day festival at the University of Utah which culminated many hours later with an appearance by Huey Lewis and the News. Anyway, bass player Johnson and I had yet to discover the existence of electric guitar tuners. There is nothing more painful than to be really drunk and have to tune your instruments by ear in front of hundreds of not-so-amused concert goers. Between every song we unsuccessfully and loudly tried to no avail to get our instruments in tune. What a buzz killer. The harder we tried, the worse it got. It was so bad and so embarrassing that our drummer, Scott Arnold, quit the band immediately after the gig. We certainly would have been booed off the stage if not for the always dependable antics of our incredible frontman, Sam Walker. He literally got into a fistfight with one of the unruly patrons down front. It soon escalated into a full-on wrestling match in the mud. The encounter was so fascinating that it seemed to divert the hostile crowd's attentions away from how much we sucked musically. I have worked with dozens of musicians over the past three decades. As a showman, none of them compare with Sam Walker. Not even close. Physically, he looked like a cross between one of the bearded guys in Z.Z. Top (long before they adopted that trademark look) and a 19th century Mormon pioneer (which his not-too-distant forefathers were, actually). His onstage charisma was heavily influenced by the schtick of the Blues Brothers, who were huge at the time. He danced like a sweaty maniac, often inspiring bass player Johnson, himself a cartoonish dresser onstage, to join in. Absolutely fearless, he dressed bizarrely, roamed the crowd constantly while harassing the club-goers with countless props (golf clubs, squirt guns, the Bible, Excalibur-style swords, etc.) His between-song manic monologues would have made Lenny Bruce or a backwoods country preacher proud. He did a gig at Gerdes' Folk City in Greenwich Village wearing a red dress. A Mormon pioneer cross-dresser. Stunning! As great as he was as an entertainer, he was, unfortunately, equally bad as a musician. Sam Walker was the worst saxophonist ever. Ever. But, hey, he was drunk. Anyway, in the aftermath of the disastrous Barney Fife gig described above, Sam, Kirk, and I decided to take immediate action. First, we bought an electric guitar tuner. Second, we started recruiting real musicians (so we could stay drunk without imperiling the band's success). We got harmonica player extraordinaire Jesse Beck to join up. Beck was an awesome skier who raced for the University of Utah. He ferociously attacked his harp with the same out-of-control intensity he displayed on slalom runs and 60 MPH downhills. He had chops ranging from John Lee Hooker to Norton Buffalo to Lee Oskar to Sugar Blue. An East Coast transplant, Beck was heavily influenced by Magic Dick of the Boston-based J. Geils Band. As good as Beck was, the true musical saviors of the Barney Fife Band were fraternal twins - Dean and Nick Athens. Dean joined first. A multi-instrumentalist, he replaced Scott Arnold on the drum kit. His guitarist brother Nick, brandishing Strats, Les Pauls and a Marshall amp, soon followed. The Athens brothers upped the musical ante in the band considerably. Their musical tastes were eclectic and informed. They favored esoteric players like Robert Fripp of King Crimson, Rush, Brian May of Queen, Yes, Jimi Hendrix, Jeff Beck, and, especially, Randy California of Spirit ("I Got a Line You," "Nature's Way," etc.) But it wasn't just their impressive talents that brought new life to the Barney Fife Band. It was equally their quirky and loveable personalities. Dean and Nick Athens were true rock 'n' roll imps. Mischievous but with hearts of gold, they were eloquent, educated, and worldly. And also charmingly immature. Imagine Frank Zappa having a pair of younger twin brothers. Or picture the two coolest dudes in the high school science club also being excellent musicians. Then you have some idea of what it was like to hang out with Dean and Nick Athens. They were proud products of the thriving Salt Lake City Greek community. They collected vintage instruments. They kept gross medical specimens in formaldehyde-filled Mason jars which they would show off with glee. I'm sure that at some point in their lives they thought whoopee cushions were hilarious. They steered me in all the right directions. At one point Dean told me that I needed to get rid of the cheesy Ibanez Les Paul knock-off that I was playing or the brothers would quit the band. (Although Ibanez is a highly respected brand name now, in the late '70s it was despised among serious musicians as a cheap Japanese imitator of quality American instrument makers.) So I quickly upgraded to a Gibson SG (which I later sold to Nick at a loss - perhaps the most illuminating Athens tale at all). The last time I saw Dean, maybe ten years ago, I called him "Nick" by mistake. I think he's still pissed at me. Sorry, Dean, but you guys are twins. You look a lot alike. And I'm sure that I was drunk at the time anyway. Speaking of which, one of my favorite times of the year to get really sloshed is during the holidays. I like to catch a really humongous buzz and listen to the songs of the season. My favorite is "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." I think that's because at many times in my career I have faced the same sort of ostracization and black-balling that handicapped Rudolph before his sudden and stunning change in fortunes. Incidentally, just for kicks, the other day I googled Rudolph's name. I was blown away by what came up - a really bitchin' website. Prominently featured was a current photo of Rudolph wearing an expensive three-piece suit while seated behind a big mahogany desk in an executive suite. A comely vixen was perched upon either knee. On the wall behind him were several mounted reindeer heads. The plaque beneath them read: "They Used to Laugh and Call Him Names." In that spirit, Dr. Boblog is proud to reprint the following article recently printed in the Park City, Utah, "Park Record" on the occasion of the release of the seventh Dr. Bob CD, "Back From the Grave." (See this website for ordering info.) Happy holidays, everyone! Dr. Boblog will see you in '09. 'Back from the Grave' in more ways than one Local rabble rouser Jeffrey Howrey of Dr. Bob releases new album By A.M. Stofko Of the Record staff In dark works boots, a demin jacket over a Jazz sweatshirt and sunglasses on his head, Jeffrey Howrey leans against a two-drawer filing cabinet. Howrey's just gotten off from his construction gig - a field he's been working in for the past 20 years or so. Most people living in Park City know him for his band, Dr. Bob, but that alone doesn't pay the bills. After three years in Klay Gustin's studio, the DogHouse, in Heber City, Howrey released his seventh album this year, "Back From the Grave." Howrey said he loves working in the studio and was sad to see it end. However, he said he's also glad to be done because studio time is "another bill to be paid." The 22-track album features five re-recorded, seven new and 10 previously-recorded songs. The first five tracks are from a recording session in New York where Howrey reunited with former Dr. Bob co-founder, Bets Pott. The two worked with studio musicians to upgrade the audio quality of the older songs. Although Dr. Bob is mainly Howrey now, he considers Pott his musical soul mate and was lost when she moved to Portland, Ore., about 10 years ago. Howrey sees "Back From the Grave" as a demo for Nashville, Tenn. He went there earlier this year for a charity event and was impressed with the music scene. Howrey said he realizes he'll never be famous at this point, but hopes another artist will cover his songs. He said he also wanted to compile some of the old songs before they got lost. The new CD can be bought from Orion's Music or from Dr. Bob's website (www.drbobjdh.com). Currently working solo, Howrey has been rocking the local music scene in one fashion of another for more than 30 years. "I'm old, but I've never grown up," he said. "I've never really been interested in grown-up society. I think that's the beauty of rock 'n' roll - it keeps you young." He's got Jim Jarmusch's defining white hair, but the attitude of Sid Vicious. "I feel the purpose of rock 'n' roll is to challenge society's assumptions," he said. He's always been partial to the rebellious types like Jim Morrison, Axel Rose and John Lennon. "Troublemakers," he said. Howrey is no stranger to ruffling feathers himself, but he's also patient. In the earlier days, whenever he'd get kicked out of one bar, he'd just wait out the current management and book when a new manager took over. It may explain why he's been able to play hundreds of shows in Park City over the years. By Howrey's count, it includes about 300 times at No Name (formerly "The Alamo") and about 250 times at Ciseros. So, if the bars and clubs were hoping to see the last of Howrey soon, they're out of luck. "I feel I'm still relevant in town," he said. |
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