The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

You know you're a lousy blogger when it seems that half your posts start with 'sorry I've been away so long.'


The thing that sucks the most about being a working musician is the waiting. Waiting to find out about gigs, waiting to leave for them, waiting to set up, waiting to play, waiting to tear down, waiting to leave from them. Well, I'm just waiting, period. My life has been caught in some hellish sort of limbo as of late, but let me catch you up on things.


Drugs and Slugs


When last I left you, I was mulling over the idea of drug testing the members of Dirty Joe over allegations of methamphetamine use. I eventually worked up the nerve to confront Ron and Roger over it, and they were surprisingly up-front about their drug-use histories, and confronting the rumors that have been dogging them. I proposed purchasing testing kits and having the guys test themselves on-camera with the results going on this blog for all to see. That way, my concurring course of action would be completely justified - either quitting the band, or looking for the rumor-spreaders and dealing with them (you two consider yourselves marked). I also declared the band to be an official Sam Stevens-free zone, and Ron and Roger really appreciated that idea. Nobody wants to deal with his shit. Things got even weirder when Joy bumped into the person who sparked the rumor at Wal-Mart - a daughter of her former boss at the Port Angeles DOT who'd dated Ron, then the drummer in the band at the time - who openly admitted to starting the rumor after her boyfriend got axed. I asked Joy why she didn't slap the shit out of the bitch right then and there, and where was she so I could do the job myself. Joy took the higher road and fairly dragged out of the store with her scooter.


We practiced that following Sunday, but I haven't heard from them since. It seems that Roger's parents have moved to the Peninsula from Hawai'i (why?), and we'd have to suspend practice while they stayed with him as they looked to move into their own place. It's been two weeks since, and I'm beginning to get a little nervous. Some people like taking their own sweet time getting things done. I'm not one of those people.


Because of this, I'm continuing to court the services of Jenn Smith for a band of my own, and Joy and I are budgeting some of her eventual SS/D back payment towards the purchase of a PA system. Thank the Maker for Carvin (www.carvin.com). Love their stuff, and I can get good systems from them directly and dirt-cheap. Joy wanted to budget US$5,000 for a system, and after checking the Carvin website, I told her that we could get PA and monitors from them, and have enough left over for an old van to schlep it around in.


And Then There Were Three


Things haven't been much better for Steppen Stonz. We were scheduled to play The Nugget in Sparks over Memorial Day weekend, but we suddenly found that gig cancelled, and our upcoming gig there for Hot August Nights in question. A quick check of their cabaret schedule found the slate packed with country and rock bands. Mikey isn't sure who could've done this, especially after all the good vibes the Ascuaga family gave us personally while we were there last. I have a suspect. Let's just leave it at that.


And because of the lack of gigs, we've lost Cliff. He just couldn't survive the waiting, and went and got himself a real job. I knew it was coming months ago, and now I'm in Cliff's place of hanging on by my fingernails, waiting for that next gig. Mikey told me that he can be replaced, will be replaced. But I could hear the worry in his voice when he told me about what was going on. I told him who my suspect was - we both know him, and he told me not to make such rash statements. I told him nothing else fits, and that this was the modus operandi of my suspect - I knew of others that have had the exact same thing happen to them, and that they had come to the same conclusion. I just hope I didn't make him any more depressed than he probably already is.


Right now I'm in pure survival mode, looking for temp and part-time jobs just to get some money, any money in my pockets. I just hope I can hold on long enough to get to the next gig. I guess Tom Petty was right - the waiting is the hardest part.

.....And It Gets Worse

Well, the gig went well enough. But none of it matters any longer, because I have bigger fish to fry. Two of them to be exact. The first one came out when Sam Stevens' wife let it slip to Joy that Roger and Ron were only letting me think that I ran the band, and that they'd be hiring Sam to take over the group. This could just be Sam trying to rattle our cages, but it does fit in with his general egomania. And it could also just be a ploy to get me to quit. Which might succeed because I have no desire to work with Sam on a full-time basis whatsoever. But the second problem is far, far worse.

It started innocuously enough, when one of the guys I'd offered an audition to came up to me and told me that he wouldn't be able to take up the offer. Why? Because for one, he was probably going to be leaving town soon. The other reason was far worse. His exact words:

"Joe, people have been telling me to avoid Dirty Joe because they're a meth band."

What the fuck? I don't use drugs at all, and I never have and never will! The rest of the guys smoke weed - and I have no problem with that - but methamphetamine is a whole other kettle of fish, and one that I want nothing to do with. I may not have the greatest rep in the world, but I've worked hard, done what's required of me, and most importantly did it all stone cold sober. And that's not as in "I used to do drugs, but now I'm sober," it's as in "I never started, and I'm not about to start!" Asking a few questions around a few people who knew the guys got - for the most part - the same, rather startling response:

"I thought you knew."

After dropping off John at his place in Carlsborg, the drive home was pretty much silent. And not just because Joy had made arrangements to get another ride home so I could get John back to Carlsborg. She was just as upset as I was when I told her the news. We're already making plans to start our own band once her SSD money comes in, but I have to confront Roger and Ron on this, and soon. I want to give them the chance to come clean, admit to using meth and offer to stop using to save the group. But I have my suspicions that they won't come clean. And I have to get up to Roger's place soon anyway.

I still have a few things of mine up there, so I better go get them if I'm going to bail out on them.

Dredging Up Bad Memories

Well, I'm back from my last run to Nevada for a while, so now I can turn my full attention to Dirty Joe. And I'm glad that trip is over. What I'd originally planned to be a nice trip with Joy to play and publicly celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary turned into a minor nightmare, almost before it really started.

Y'see, after a Monday trip to Seattle to take Joy to the University of Washington's Medical Center about her thyroid problems (which turned out to be almost a total waste of everyone's time), we headed south to stay with her mother in Tacoma before actually starting the trip to the CVI in Minden. On the way south we stopped in Sandy, just east of Portland, to fill the gas tank and refill my giant mug o' Coke. So while the pump chump filled the tank, I went inside with my mug while Joy excused herself to the ladies' room. And that's where all hell broke loose. Unbeknownst to us, the toilet in the ladies' room at the Mt. Hood Arco was broken - well, usable but unstable, to more precise. And when Joy sat down upon it, it lurched to one side and sent Joy to the ground, wrenching her back and leaving her bumped, bruised, contused and confused while by now I'd returned to the truck wondering what the hell was taking her so long. She flagged down the pump chump and told her what happened, and he told her to tell the clerk inside. When she did so, the clerk told her that they knew that the toilet was broken - and chose not to post any warning! She finally struggled back to the truck and told me what was going on, even saying that she'd tried to get my attention, but I'd never seen her behind me, with all the stuff in the back of the truck blocking my view. She concluded by stating that we needed to get her to a hospital because she was in a great deal of pain.

So began a very long night of driving back to Washington, where the nice folks at Vancouver's Southwest Washington Medical Center took good care of her, followed by driving all night to get to Bend, where we stayed at our niece Megan's place. Another day of driving got us to Minden, and while the gig itself went smoothly enough, Joy was scarcely present, spending most of the time in bed in pain while deciding what to do about legal action against Mt. Hood Arco. We're in the opening stages of hiring a lawyer to sue Mt. Hood Arco to recover the medical expenses, and for damages caused by their negligence and incompetence. And as part and parcel of that, I encourage all you loyal readers out there to boycott Mt. Hood Arco until they are brought to justice for their crime. The irony is that the place is temporarily closed while new gasoline tanks are installed. But in my world, boycotts are forever. I won't go there ever again, and neither should you.

On to happier news. Sort of.

On the way home from Minden, I got a call from Roger. It turns out that they've hired a temporary lead singer for our gig coming up this Friday, and wanted me to either confirm or veto their decision. And who is our singer-for-a-night? A guy we all know and don't really love named Sam Stevens. The guys played with him in a previous incarnation of DJ, back when it was called Thin Ice. I played with him further back, in a band originally called Rooster, then In Ten City. He's a good player, and does perhaps the best Bon Scott impersonation that I've ever heard. Problem is, he's got quite an ego, thinks he knows better than you, and usually isn't afraid to tell you so. Plus, he owes us money for a PA system he bought from us and never finished paying us for. Nobody in the group really likes him all that much, but he supposedly just showed up Sunday at Roger's place and jammed with the guys, and they liked it enough to ask him to sit in with us Friday night, and only afterwards did they decide to inform me of this.

While I can see the positives of this, as well as that this is only a one-night-only thing, I'm still pissed off that the guys went behind my back and did this with out my initial consent. I am in charge of this band supposedly, so I think I should have been informed of this a whole fuck of a lot sooner. But it's only one night, what's it gonna hurt?

But something is still gnawing at me. John and I have been talking a lot lately, mostly because I have to drive him from Roger's place down to the Transit Center in downtown PA so he can take the bus home to Carlsborg. He's just as frustrated with Roger and Ron as I am, upset that they won't learn new material, won't even bother to try to learn anything new to them no matter how simple it was - even Ramones songs look like Chinese algebra to them. John has all but invited me to join his original side-project, and band he describes as a cross between Rush and Megadeth. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested, but I'm really just a cover-band guy. Joy would say that I limit myself, saying something like that, but I've known my limitations for a long time now. I know what I'm capable of, and what I'm not so good at. But I look at this band, and I see a band that says that they want to go places, but doesn't really have the desire to actually put the work into it. And while I know that having an absentee drummer/bandleader doesn't help, you'd think that if they wanted to go out and learn new material and break out of playing one night a month at some bar, they'd actually put some effort into bettering themselves instead of kissing the bong, dreaming about entering talent contests, and otherwise talking a good game and not backing it up with actions.

I'm a frustrated man right about now. But I won't let it get to me. I have a gig on Friday, and I'm a professional, goddammit. So come on down to RBar (132 E. Front Street, Port Angeles, WA) this Friday night and see if I can hold myself together for the night, let alone four other guys onstage and a crowd down below. I think I'll manage. After all, I have a saying:

"I don't need therapy to work out my problems. That's what my drums are for."

And..... The Anticlimax

After how worked up I was over what was supposed to go down today, to behonest I was relieved when Roger called me about an hour ago to inform me that John wouldn't be able to practice today. So after calling Britton, texting Jenn, and putting Pete in the dustbin of history, now I can focus on getting my shit together for the trip to Minden. I'm actually pretty happy right now.

And Apparently....

......Blogger has forgotten how to make a paragraph.......

I'm A Little Nervous Right Now......

Because I have at least two or three auditions set up for Sunday afternoon, but only the last of them matters to me. A guy named Pete is supposed to be coming in today, and he used to sing with the guys when they were playing under another name. But he's already blown off one audition, and there's no guarantee that he'll show in about thirteen hours or so.

Next up is a guy named Britton. I've heard him at karaoke shows around town, a good singer, but perhaps a bit limited in terms of vocal range - more of a baritone than a tenor. Of the three, he might actually be the easiest to fit into the band, because he seems like a pretty relaxed dude to me. But I have been proven wrong far too often to take a first impression as gospel.

But those guys are just the appetizer. Jenn will come in last tonight, around 7pm or so. And this is why I'm nervous. It turns out that Roger and Ron have had a CD of material she wanted to sing for some time, and haven't done a damn thing with it. Come to think of it, sounds familiar.... as in they haven't done a goddamned thing with the CD I gave them. I tried to run them through a few songs from it, and results were not up to snuff. The only song that we could even get through was Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition', and that took some work. Trying to get them to learn Journey's 'Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)' was like pulling teeth while herding cats. John was getting things rather easily, but Roger and Ron couldn't figure out anything, and then when John and I taught them their parts, they forgot them almost immediately. What I found amazing was that they'd never, ever, played 'Mony Mony' in their lives. How hard is that?

Of the fourteen songs on the CD she'd given them, I'd played ten of them in one band or another, and only one of the four I would've considered a song that I'd actually need to practice - another Journey song, 'Don't Stop Believin''. All the time, I'm thinking to myself, what the hell have I got myself into? I just hope that Ron and Roger don't fuck things up too badly when Jenn shows up. If she walks, I won't be able to forgive them for half-assing this. They're the ones that told me that they want to move up from playing one or two nights a month at one bar or another and go out onto the tribal-casino circuit. They gave me control of the group to get them to that point, and I don't think they really understand what it will take from them to actually accomplish that goal. Well, they'll know in about seventeen hours or so.

Thankfully, after Sunday I can take a break - sort of. The UW Medical Center called us Thursday and told us that the appointment Joy would have with their Endocrinology department could be moved to Monday from an original date in early May. And after a quick phone call to ParaTransit, they'll cover gas (a full tank for my pickup!) for the trip, and reimburse me for the cost of taking the ferry over from Bainbridge Island to the Colman Dock in downtown Seattle. From UWMC it's a short distance but a long drive (gotta love rush-hour) to Joy's mother's house in Tacoma. From there we can start our trip to Minden, and enjoy the company of our friends and family in Nevada while I'm gigging at the Carson Valley Inn, and doing so over our anniversary. For once, I'm beginning to think that Monday can't come fast enough......

Auditions and Transitions

Well dear reader, back for more of my tales of musical meh? Okay, I shouldn't act like I don't care about what I do - it is my livelihood after all. But sometimes it gets a little...... tedious. But juggling two bands and two schedules, all while caring for an ailing wife, can be a pretty impressive feat of prestidigitation.

So where do I begin? Well, Steppen Stonz is struggling along, trying to find more and longer gigs to make it worth the expense of driving to Northern Nevada. But while Mike and Arthur's drives up from Las Vegas are no picnic, my travel expenses are more than theirs combined. But our good and noble steed of an agent, Stew Stewart (enough ass-kissing?), is turning stuff up for us. My last run down consisted of playing two nights midweek at the Nugget in Sparks for a dairy cattleman's convention - and the first night just happened to land on Mardi Gras. But the cattlemen didn't seem all that interested, and the hotel had no actual Mardi Gras event planned. But we still went out onstage and did our best.

That was followed by seven days off. And with not enough money to be able to drive home and back, I wound up staying in Carson City with my friends Jeremy and Alison, going to an Idekay show only a few blocks away from the Nugget with Jeremy (it's his band, after all) while pulling out some of my best recipes in the kitchen for Ali. And they'd just moved into a condo on the east side of Carson City, and actually had a guest room available for yours truly to hibernate in. Not a bad week off at all by my standards.

After that came another three nights at the Nugget, a standard Thursday/Friday/Saturday run that coincided with St. Patrick's Day, which also happened to be the birthday of the casino itself. And while we've had pleasant interactions in the past with Stephen Ascuaga, the owner's son, this time around we got to meet and greet all three Ascuagas - Stephen, Michonne, and old John Ascuaga himself. While he's getting up there in years, nothing gets past him. Seriously. He's a nice old fella, but I'm sure he'd have me wearing my balls for a bowtie if I crossed him. We talked with them backstage at the ceremony commemorating the Nugget's 56th birthday, and they were quite effusive in their praise for us both privately and on the mic for the crowd gathered in the cabaret for the birthday party itself. And it kicked off a pretty good weekend for us, with good crowds all three nights and virtually no glitches of any kind - aside from having to do an encore without my headphones because I'd accidentally pulled out the headphone cord from its socket while getting back onto my throne, and I had no time to plug them back in.

But all that has pretty much paled in comparison with what's been going on at home. I only have about a week in Port Angeles before I have to return to Nevada, this time for a three-nighter at the CVI in Minden, and this time with Joy to celebrate our 17th anniversary. Dirty Joe needs work, and I've been trying to arrange auditions for our lead-singer position, as I've mentioned previously. Well, I now have four interested candidates. I've already auditioned one, a Filipina from Sequim who's played in many of the same places I have in Nevada, though she may not be all that compatible with my guys. A karaoke buddy of mine has expressed interest in the gig, and a singer from a previous incarnation from the band as also thrown his hat into the ring. But they're all over shadowed by another karaoke friend of mine, with talent of phenomenal proportions, and nothing to hold her back. Jenn is so very talented, even with a cold her voice puts most others to shame. Ron and Roger have pursued her for some time, and she actually did sing with them for a few months, but she found their lack of professionalism and drive to be a bit disturbing back then. I was able to sit down with her at karaoke last night at the Coo Coo's Nest, and told her that I was pushing them a lot harder, and making them a more professional unit. I went to the mat to convince her to give them another chance. And talking to her and getting to know her, I came to the realization that she's too damn good for this town. She wants to sing, but doesn't want to be famous. She wants to sing in a cover band, and play the kind of gigs that I play. And while she has a healthy-enough ego regarding her ability (as well she should), her desire to pursue the same career path I chose and to avoid stardom showed her to have really not that much of an ego after all. Listening to her, I could clearly hear some of my favorite ladies on the Reno circuit in her words, good friends like Tracy Bing and Tina Fink. And I told her so. I actually told her that she needed to get off the Peninsula and come with me to Reno - or just get her own ass there herself. She's got the talent - the voice, the personality, the ability to engage the crowd - I just hope my minions will change their ways enough to make her want to actually work with us, though I told her that if they pissed her off to the point of bailing on us, that I might just go with her.

Yeah. She's that talented, folks.

But Roger, Ron, and John (Tom is out of the band for the foreseeable future due to health concerns - but we'll keep his seat open for him to come back whenever he's right) agreed to work more and kiss the bong less, and apply themselves to music more suited to Jenn's powerhouse voice. And if she sticks around, I'll finally have the three-part harmonies I've been wanting ever since I joined the band, plus a true lead singer who can peel the paint off the walls with her voice. And if it doesn't work out? Well then, I might have a passenger on a future trip to Reno......

We shall see, my friends.....