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Recent Happenings - see also "The Making of Part XI" Tao Jonesin played on the Bath House Cultural Center patio for Moonlady Night. the question of electronic drums versus "real" drums often arises... i will say that since i converted to digital from acoustic, i haven't had to replace my drum sticks. not once. i did go out and get a new pair a couple of years ago, but that's just because i felt somehow guilty. i used to go through a pair of sticks like, weekly. cymbals and gongs, as electronic tones, are inferior to the "real" things - but i don't think it's a sound quality issue, rather, it has to do with the "feel". there are devices whose tone banks do quite a convincing job of "sounding real" - if that's what one is after. i will also argue that any mic'd or recorded drum, is an electronic drum. check it out! here are some interactive flash jam controllers i made from files supplied by musician extraordinaire, Kim Corbet. on-click they'll pop-up in new little windows: here's the INKFLIX controller [150kb] - if you missed it from the music page (prob you don't wanna open more than two of these at a time). virtual, electronic instruments... what's to fear? why a schism? play everything! who cares?! i can't email a bongo to you. Recently - in no particular order... kinda bloggy... I am often reminded of the Gang of Four line: "He fills his head with culture - he gives himself an ulcer". BL Lacerta recently played at the Bath House Cultural Center - here's a pic of the stage. What a cool set! I integrated parts of an acoustic kit into my setup, similar to the arrangement for comaconcerto. Bruce is going to have fun mixing that! Kim, that was a fine trombone solo on the couch. Hope to have sound files here soon. new studio. new phone. new year. no wife... after having been in the same place for over thirteen years, i've got a new pad and studio. now it's time for a new computer and some new gear. pulled the plug on comatheatre (after almost seven years). huge monster holiday mash performed "KangaROO" with Tim Cloward at the Winter Solstice; xmas carol jams with Kim; Collin County with Kim and Kenny W.; phone calls from Moondog. gOUge performed a "coma-concerto" with the SMU Percussion Ensemble, under the direction of Kevin Hanlon. opening title sequences and the main isle view for the Hula Scooba project have been laid down. Kim provided some bootimus storm sounds for the credit blips, the jungle scene is well underway, and character development on Kahlua and Skanti are in progress. yet another Isle 13 performance went down at Central Market. ...looks like i should put a blog in this area, eh? gOUge threw down at yet another LitFest - Kevin got the most patriotic noise award (looping trumpet fanfare) and Kim wowed the audience with his leg flesh exposing tartan. Kim and Chad performed as "Shock and Awe" for the Video Festival Thanks party at Southside on Lamar. lotsa beer - great munchies - good folks. Thanks, Laura! Isle 13 played at Central Market in Dallas. typically they feature sleepy jazz bands - but this time got a dose of energized world beat, heavily percussive muzik. an interesting moment was when Kim played "my bonnie lies over the ocean" on melodica, with a seascape soundtrack underneath. Winter Solstice, presented by Celestial Rhythm Celebrations at The Cathedral of Hope. Pictures by JR Compton HERE. BL Lacerta's annual holiday offering, a live score to Chaplin's Gold Rush, at Club Dada was a blast. Bruce, Kim and Chad played at Southside on Lamar wherein Eryka Baidu was also on the set. The TV gig fell through, but now we're discussing a future project in Europe. Got an email from a German/French television show producer on the ARTE channel expressing intrest in meeting comatheatre while filming in Dallas this upcoming Sunday; Kim and Chad played at the Hexter Elementary White Rock Art Festival; Cap'n Sambo submitted a demo to Central Mkt.; Sambo played at Southside on Lamar; comatheatre presented BUSH BASH II at Club Dada on Halloween night along with a BL Lacerta Frankenstein scoring (wherein I played cello); gOUge played at another LitFest; Sambo teamed up with poet Tim Cloward at The MAc and Undermain Theatre; comatheatre presented BUSH BASH at the Undermain...
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| Music: Part I - early influences Charred debris and scattered trash whirled through the street. Everywhere, people were running... covering their mouths and trying to shelter their heads. Not far away, flames spewed from a battered car, and thick smoke billowed into the smog-filled air. This jostled view etched my earliest conscious memory: Downtown Detroit, the summer of 1968. The race riots were in full swing and Motown was literally a hot bed of activity. My parents had moved there from the family hometown of Marshalltown, Iowa - I guess for work reasons. What great tunes must have spiked the radios then? That nutritious soul sound: feeding the ears, minds, and marrow of workers, students, socio-political activists, and two-and-a-half-year-olds like me. Given the times and my mother's demographic, my deduction was that I was named after the primary character from the musical duo, Chad and Jeremy, but mom said that she "just liked the name". Probably if pressed, she would admit to having liked the group as well. ["Stop! …in the name of love"] Chicago became our next home. We had a backyard full of tracks and trains, and it seems to me impossible that the cacophony and rhythms would have escaped a developing brain. Grandma Allen told me that I used to get into her favorite rocking chair and put it to task with much enthusiasm. Perhaps I was being the engineer or rider of my own steel horse? My father had a motorcycle that he liked to ride. He also had a girlfriend... Grandma and Grandpa Olsen had moved to McKinney, Texas, a suburb of Dallas - I guess for work reasons. Apparently a lot of companies have offices up north and down here, which provides the Bible Belt Buckle with its Yankee patina. Anyway, mom's employer, a stock market firm, made it possible for her to move back in with her parents and two brothers, and still work for the same people. ["Gonna tell a little story 'bout the Harper Valley PTA..."] Now with high school and college aged uncles, my brother and I had a great time. We got taken to the drive-in, where they claimed we were good "chick-magnets" for them. Uncle Mike had a convertible GTO. It was also an attractant, with shiny chrome wheels, a metallic purple skin, a big throaty engine, and a fine in-dash radio. Somehow Mike and Bill avoided getting into trouble - maybe because a friend of theirs was a local cop. When all of a sudden these two guys had a sister, the policeman became her friend, too. ["Don't you want somebody to love?"] About a year-and-a-half later, he became my dad. During this time, Johnny Cash had a weekly TV show, and for me, The Man in Black was the coolest. He was though, superceded by Tom Jones, with all the glitz, glam, dance moves, and groovy crooning. Attractive women and hot babes were constantly rushing the stage to touch and kiss him, and I'm sure I wasn't the only boy being impressed. ["It's not unusual to be loved by anyone..."] Dad transferred to the Highland Park PD, moved the family to Dallas, and gave Michael and I his family name. ["...three to get ready, now go cat go!"] The two-story apartment with the big upstairs patio was initially huge. Situated just north of Love Field, the constant roar of flight path planes would soon become a familiar drone. Then came daycare. I hated it. Abandoned now daily, I pacified myself by drawing. On the playground we kids would sing "Tutti Frooty, Aw Rooty", and that always generated a good laugh. My elementary school was named for the composer, Stephen F. Foster, whose most memorable work was "Camptown Races". The notion that songwriters are revered by the community seemed so quaint and wholesome, why wouldn't I want to grow up to be a musician? BACK TO THE TOP ---------------------- |
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| Music: Part II - early childhood "When I started playing at the age of six [1971], hard cushion pillows were the gear of choice". I'll never forget my first practice pad. The rubber circle playing surface was surrounded by metal, with four little rubber suction-cup feet on the bottom. It was as if the designer wanted to make sure that the student kept the stick action where it belonged, since any hits outside of the target area resulted in a rather unpleasant bang, and the feel was not at all rewarding. On my seventh birthday, when I opened the package containing it, the only cognition of its having anything to do with drumming was because I recognized the logo of the famous company from Chicago just under the smooth black disc. I have been a Ludwig fan ever since. "It's a practice pad", informed my mom, who had enrolled Michael into guitar lessons just a few weeks before. She soon found a drum instructor for me, and my older brother and I were well on our way to becoming the world's next famous band. ["I've got a brand new pair of roller skates, you've got a brand new key..."] Growing up in an apartment community helped propel the dream for me. There was a party room situated above the laundry area in a freestanding building by the pool of the adjacent complex. The neighborhood kids would congregate there, and were entertained by "Boo", who claimed to be a cousin of The Jackson Five. He had a record player, encouraged dancing, and played some of the grooviest tunes the early seventies had to offer. ["He rocked in the treetops all the day long..."] We drank twenty-five cent root-beers, cokes, and lemon-limes from the nearby soda machine, and imported candy that we got from the Kwik Way convenience store about two blocks down the alley. The scene was very "cool". There was a sunken, parquet dance floor surrounded by tables and chairs, a curvilinear bar to the side, funky lights, and screenprinted, metallic wallpaper. Entry and exit was by way of an expansive spiral staircase, which was an altogether different room. I didn't know what a "swinger" was, but I knew that this was their playground, and remember feeling as though my brother and my friends and I had been given privileged access to "adult" amenities. ["You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up..."] Someone else's tongue, the taste of lip-gloss and the touching of titties were inevitable experiences in a place like this. We were just emulating the older kids - under the building by way of broken concrete, taking drags off spent cigarettes through a straw, sharing stolen lemon-heads, red-hots, and jolly-ranchers... Mom's second marriage ["Will you marry me, Bill?…"] made my brother and I different from most of our community friends. Jay Metton was Eddie's older brother, and everyone knew he was a drummer - very loud, but also very good. I guess no one complained, since his mom Phyllis was the apartment manager. Perhaps with no father, he was able to practice as much, or perhaps that's why he played so hard? Thinking back, Jay's influence ultimately had much to do with my becoming a percussionist. There was also a band that lived on the third row. I used to go down there and sit just listening. One day I knocked on the door and asked if I could come inside. They did let me in and I even got to bang away on the trap. It was a monster sprawl with parts everywhere and seemed so easy to play. I knew from then on that I had to have drums in my life. I began taking lessons with a new instructor, Charles Hammond, who taught me rudiments, and turned me onto Blood, Sweat & Tears. He also gave me my second practice pad, a Remo, and told my parents about B & S Percussion, the drum store on Oak Lawn where I would eventually purchase my 1967 green sparkle Ludwig kit, at the age of twelve, for four-hundred dollars. Bill and Sis were eventually bought up by Brook Mays, and I later learned that Charles died in a lightweight accident. I've forgotten the name of Chuck and Ginger's mom. I do recall that she was a textbook alcoholic. One early morning, all us kids were brought to their apartment dining room and shown the lamp which had been torn from the ceiling. Not remembering that she was the one who swung on it, slapped each child briskly for refusing to admit the crime. There were three kids in 201, but the older sister moved out shortly after they moved in. She was apparently a textbook hippie-chick, having painted her room in psychedelic colors, with beautiful shape-shifting nymphs everywhere and the odor of candles and incense remained. Chuck played trumpet in the TJ marching band, Ginger was cute and liked to sing - so they and Michael and I became a "band". We played down at the pool area on weekends when all the old folks would hang out together. The one song we could play was "25 or 6 'til 4" - the rest of it was us playing along to 8-tracks (Deep Purple, Moody Blues, Grand Funk Railroad). We lost touch after they moved to Plano, but I heard that Chuck was killed by a car while crossing Greenville Avenue. After saving money from walking dogs, apartment sitting, taking out trash, and window cleaning for some many months, Michael and I were finally able to make the last installment on our very own 8 track player from a Sears lay-away plan. Now we could have music in our own room and wouldn't interfere with mom and dad's hi-fi arrangement. It was around this time that I became a full-fledged Led Zeppelin fan ["Oh, oh oh oh, oh Oh..."]. I had a snare drum and hi-hat (still more birthday presents), and made my own ride cymbal out of a piece of cardboard on a real stand (I was saving up for a real cymbal, which, not unlike today, is expensive!). On the wall in front of my "kit" was a huge Zeppelin concert footage collage poster. I rarely played without my Bonzo bowler hat, and never without my Jimmy Page t-shirt on. If it wasn't free-jamming, it was drum-karaoke to LZ, and occasionally to The J. Geils Band "Bloodshot" Album. I remember liking The Beatles, Jeff Beck, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, Stevie Wonder, Todd Rundgren, Little Feat, Steppenwolf, Elvis, and The Spinners. I didn't care for mom's favorite band, The Rolling Stones, or Janis Joplin, but she did have some classical music (Peter & The Wolf, Bolero) that was fairly okay. It was always a thrill to be in the school talent show. Those of us with backstage access felt as though we were part of an elite group, which I suppose, we really were. Setting up behind the big curtain, not quite ready as it whooshed open to the applause of our admiring classmates, lights in our eyes and the flash of cameras, we would belt out our skits. After-show party conversations confirmed that the rush treated all stars with a similar effect. It was possibly the first time I ever got "high". ["Lucy in the sky, with diamonds..."]. Some of us performed year after year, but others faded out. Michael's interest in playing guitar waned after he had mastered Peter Gunn, Wipe-Out, and Maleguena - and it's quite conceivable that the original Muff Fuzz wasn't as much fun for him as that of the Junior High girls with whom he had become friends. The influence of Ms. Parker, the new music teacher, accelerated my drive, and added theater to my list of interests. Two most excellent people in my history are Mike and Marion Fischer. Dad and Marion both worked for the Highland Park PD - and Mike was a mechanic, so, of course, Dad liked and respected him very much. Which is understandable, because Mike Fischer* was a truly great man. He owned and operated his own successful foreign car repair business, and was an extreme tinkerer. I recall that at one point, he had a small airplane in his garage. The scale model train set that he put together was of the completely spectacular kind. Everything to him was fixable, he smoked a pipe and was an animal lover. He had expansive intelligence and wit, his sense of humor was tremendous, and jovialty surrounded him. He was an audiophile and for him, I give sincere thanks! He turned me on to Frank Zappa [Is that a real poncho? I mean, is that a Mexican poncho, or a Sears poncho?... Hmmm, no fooling!"]. His Led Zeppelin collection was extensive and current. He liked Iron Butterfly, Alice Cooper, and War. He played Gino Vanelli, and I thoroughly dug that. As a result of being a petsitter, I had access to the record collections and sound systems of several individuals. My favorite belonged to a young couple on row two, whose parakeet required extra special care since his upper beak had been removed for him by a larger parrot. His food had to be pureed in a blender and then warmed. While waiting for budgie to order dessert, I'd broadcast Weather Report, Pink Floyd, and Chick Korea for him and the neighbors. That bird was a good dancer.
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| Music: Part III - the teenage years When I was thirteen, my best friend was Chris Allen. Since my original family name was Allen, we deduced that we were probably related somehow. Anyway, Chris's mom worked in the design district and she had decided to give up on city life and move out to the country. Some friends of hers, Fred and Jane, lived in Blum, Texas - south of Cleburne, south of Rio Vista (pronounced: "ry-ah vista" by the locals) - and they told her 'bout a fixer-upper: a ramshackled, once opulant farmhouse built around 1900, in their very small town whose population was/is 330. I spent the summer of '78 with them as they began their new lives as future hicks. We rebuilt the decayed front porch (the first possum I ever seen was a dead one under some broken planks there), and swept and swept and swept until the kitchen and bathroom were once again usable (to some degree anyway). While this was going on, we stayed at Fred and Jane's a few streets over, in Jane's grandmother's house which was actually very nice. They had chickens (fresh eggs daily), pigs and a several huge gardens, growing all manner of vegetables and one big patch of herbs. Turns out that Fred was a guitar player/singer in a C&W group called The Tennessee Hat Band - who were at the time, Rusty Weir's band. Previously they were David Allen Coe's, and prior to that, worked for Johnny Cash. I gave my business card to Fred so he would know that I was part of the musician brotherhood, and soon would be calling him "Uncle Fred". Chris and I accompanied the band to their gigs in Austin, Dallas and surrounding areas. Mostly we did "Whiskey River" on Greenville Avenue. What a scene! ["Whiskey River take my mind..."] This wasn't the country music my dad listened to - this was "progressive country", a sort of Allman Brothers, Charlie Daniels, Asleep at the Wheel, ZZ Top kind of vibe, and these guys were great! They'd play a bunch of fine originals, some Willie and Waylon, and then break into some Cream tunes. The Urban Cowboy craze was just taking hold, and the parties were more outrageous than many of the punk scenes that I would be involved in just a year or so later. Meanwhile back in school, I joined the choir - because Ms. Volk, the director, convinced all us boys that chicks dug the guys who were in the choir. So I learned vocal training and to sight read. The ensembles did quite well in competitions and at performances, but when the time came to solo audition for the high school choir, I failed miserably. Not one auspicious note could my changing voice articulate. I loathed the idea of going to Thomas Jefferson and not being in the choir, but it turned out that TJ wouldn't be my future HS anyway. I was slated to attend Skyline, the uber-magnet school where I had done research for the animated film that I produced in the sixth grade as part of TAG class. "Commercial Art" was my chosen cluster, and I had designs on becoming an architect. My brother Michael had his driving license by then, so he convinced our parents to let us and two of his friends go camping the summer before I started high school and he became a junior. I suggested Blum, because I knew of some excellent areas on the Nolan River and particulary of a cave - and there was the safety net of "Uncle" Fred, "Aunt" Jane, and Chris and Suzanne, if we needed anything (or got into any trouble). Initially, David Darnell was to me just one of my brother's pals, but during the camp-out I learned that he was an art student at Arts Magnet High School for the Visual and Performing Arts in Downtown Dallas. Having heard his description of the school, I convinced my mom to try and get me enrolled there, which she did. When role was called in classes, my name was not in alphabetical order - it had been added to the very end of the list. I just barely got in. Suzanne was able to complete her dream of completely leaving the city, with the help of her former mechanic/new husband. When I visited about six years ago, they were still working on the house, raising their new baby, and told me that Chris is now a Shakespearian actor, playing Romeo quite often. Fred and Jane split up, and I attended Fred's third wedding a few years ago. He said he still had my "Chad the Drummer" card. BACK TO THE TOP
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| Music: Part IV - Arts Magnet Fast times at The Booker T. Washington High School for the Visual and Performing Arts in the early 80's includes Punk, Jazz, Reggae, Munch Puppies and more... coming up next - stay tuned! BACK TO THE TOP
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| Music: Part V - the quickie college days Adam Armstrong, A Few Hits Left, Club DaDa, Expo Park, BL Lacerta, SMU, Sons of Bob, Poetry Circus, ... BACK TO THE TOP
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Music: Part VI - the big blur
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Music: Part VII - life with Karen
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Music: Part VIII - Sidney
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Music: Part IX - Cosmic
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| Music: Part X - what's it do? gOUgE, comaconcerto, Cap'n Sambo, INKFLIX ... BACK TO THE TOP ----------------------
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