With Great Power...

First off a disclaimer:

"The opinions expressed on this Blog are those of the Blogger and no one else. These events are the way he remembers them and never embellished for the sake of entertainment. Any potheads who remember things differently should lighten up (or light up) and get over themselves."

Moving right along.

We now return to Boissevain. Man, that week-end was just chock full of great stories. The stage in this particular bar was quite small. Basically we used it as a drum riser and set up the rest of the band on the floor in front of the stage. This is not uncommon but it can have it's drawbacks. Being so close to the action is not necessarily a good thing. People generally tend to step on things and bump into you while you're performing. This can be more than a little distracting. If a fight breaks out on the dancefloor, two feet in front of you, it's more than a little difficult to keep your focus. Also if the band is on the same level as the pool tables and some guy just cranked his shot way too hard it can be distracting. The cue ball comes rolling up to the "stage" in the middle of a particularly rocking song. I spied it but still had to work to avoid stepping on it and hurting myself or those around me. I'm a big man and when I go down I go down hard, more often than not I'll take someone else with me too. I managed to avoid the wayward orb and finished the song without incident. In the midst of the cheering and applause I hear "Can I have the ball back!". I say "Pardon" and again I hear a request to return the cueball. I let the guy know that I was a "little busy" at the moment and that if he wanted the ball back he'd have to come and get it. He did so and was none too pleased to be dragged away from his table to get it. I suggested maybe he should be more careful with his toys, not all of the neighbours are as understanding as me when the ball comes into their yard. He grunted some derogatory remark and I handed the ball to him but did not let go. He looked at me and I said "Say thank you". He replied with a different turn of phrase that did end with "you" but did not begin with "thank". I took the ball back and put it next to drum kit on the actual stage. I started to intro the next song when he again, loudly and more rudely this time, demanded the ball back. I again asked for a polite thank you. He was getting quite angry now. Not so much because I was holding the cueball for ransom but because I was embarrassing him in front of everyone. Pretty much everyone in the bar was laughing, including the guys he was playing pool with. He muttered a quiet than you in a very snotty and sarcastic tone and I said "Pardon". This time I held the mic out for him and he said "Thank you" again. This time with a little smile.
"You're welcome" I said and handed back his ball. He went back to his game and we continued our show. Afterwards I bought him a beer and apologized for messing with him in front of everyone. He was cool about it and we chatted for a while until the next set.

Being very close to the audience also has it's benefits. We are rocking out during our next set and the dancefloor is packed. Tons of people having a good time with the band. The dancefloor has a bracing pole from floor to ceiling pretty much right in the middle. I spy a rather fetching young lass drunkenly using the pole while she's dancing, not unlike a stripper might. Hmm I thought, where can I go with this? The next song is the ZZ Top classic "La Grange". There is very little singing in this one so during the extended guitar solo I usually go to the bar and get another beer, check out the sound in front of the band and mingle with the crowd for a few minutes. This time I had other ideas however. I decided that if the lovely young lady was going to make believe she was a stripper I would try to help her fulfill her fantasy. I started talking to her through the mic. I complimented her on her skills and her looks. She smiled coyly and laughed. I, of course, began to "egg her on" as they say. I started a chant of "Take it off" and made sure I got the whole crowd involved. She just kept looking me in the eye and giving me the "sexy stare" as I like to call it. She was getting in to it in a big way. I love the effect that alcohol and peer pressure can have on some women. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those guys. I just found the whole thing very entertaining and really it was pretty harmless fun). The first item of clothing to come off was her sweater. It came up over her head and was tossed away without a care. Next she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down just enough to expose her underwear. Pink. I was getting g into this whole thing a little more by now as well and really wanted to see how much further I get her to go. The crowd was cheering her on and she looked like she was having a blast. She started teasing with her shirt. She'd pull it up a little to reveal her belly and then back down. Then up a little more to reveal that her bra did indeed match her underwear, then back down again. She pushed her jeans down to her hips and started lifting her shirt again. A little higher, a little higher. It's up over her head now, the crowd is going nuts. The guys in the band have extended this part of the song even more than usual and everyone is having a great time. Everyone except her boyfriend. Just as she was pulling her shirt off, he came up with her sweater and covered her up again and pulled her off the dance floor. Denied! the crowd starts booing him and she looks back with a shrug and a look of slight disappointment on her face. I mention that we were only having a little fun and that he should consider himself lucky as his girlfriend is hot! We finish the song and then the set and I go looking for the couple to see if things need to be smoothed over. I couldn't find them any where. Apparently they had left right after her performance was cut short. I talked to a couple of people who knew her and they assured me that I had not gotten her into any trouble. They told me that the couple would probably be back to thank me for adding a little "spice" to their evening. The boyfriend would probably thank me after he went home and enjoyed the "fruits of my labours" if you know what I mean. They were back the next night and everything was cool. They had indeed used the show as the starting point for a very enjoyable evening at home so I was told. I said I was glad I could help out and if they wanted to repeat the performance I would be more than happy to oblige. She had apparently sobered up however and was not so sure she wanted to do it all again. No worries. It was just good to know that I had that kind of power. I can use my God given rock and roll superpowers to make rednecks apologize for their rudeness and I can make hot girls take their clothes off in public. I love playing in a Rock an Roll band!

Drugs are bad.....ummkay?

As a rock star I am constantly being offered drugs, or asked if I have any that other people can score. The answer is always no. I have been approached by people with this sort of thing on their minds at every show I have ever played in a particular bar here in Brandon. Sometimes I get approached by the same people more than once. I guess drug use messes with your memory. If I told you no last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, why do you think things will be different this time? Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total anti-drug crusader or anything. It's just not for me. If you feel like shortening your life and damaging your brain and possibly doing something really stupid, feel free. I'll stick to my beer and cigarettes.(which I am trying to quit, cigarettes anyway. Give up beer? Never!) I have played with many musicians over the years, some were potheads, some were alcoholics, some were just regular people. Without question I have seen drugs and alcohol ruin an other wise talented musician. It happens all the time. It's sad, yes and completely avoidable. Sometimes however, drugs and alcohol can make for some pretty damned amusing times while "on the road".

We were playing in Boissevain a number of years ago. We had arrived early and gotten checked into our rooms before going to the bar to set up. Our guitar player at the time was a fairly serious pothead. Chronic, if you will. While in the room I was sharing with him he produced a baggie and proceeded to cut and chop some "high grade mary jane" in preparation to pack a bowl. We ended up getting called to the bar to deal with some minor PA issue so he carefully laid his stash to rest on a magazine cover and slid it into the small night stand between the beds. PA problem solved I return to my room. Our bass player joins me for a chat and to just hang out. Pot head guitar player is delayed somewhere and not back to his stash. Bass player is a car guy. A bigtime MOPAR or no car kind of gear head. He spies a magazine on the shelf. A car magazine. He grabs said magazine and quickly pulls it out of it's hiding place and gives it a good strong flick before starting to thumb through it. I am sitting there, mouth agape at what has just happened. Bass player is wondering what the problem is. I start to chuckle, then full on belly laugh. Bass player is really confused now. No idea what's going on. I explain to him that guitar players stash was sitting on that magazine waiting to be attended to and enjoyed. The remainder of said stash would then be repacked in the baggie for enjoyment at a later time. This of course was now going to be very difficult for guitar player to do as the entire stash was now on the carpet. The deep GREEN shag carpet. Bass player looked shocked at first. An, "Oh my God, What have I done" sort of look. This was quickly replaced by the "He shouldn't have left his stuff just laying around like that" look. I resumed my laughter.

Guitar player has now returned to the room and spies bass player leafing through the aforementioned magazine. I am trying to play it cool as we have decided to pretend nothing happened.
"Where did you get that?" questions guitar player.
"Right here on the table" states bass player.
"Did you move my stuff?" questions guitar player.
"Which stuff would that be?" questions bass player.
"Bwahahahahahahahahah!" says I. At this point guitar player has come to the conclusion that we are messing with him.
"Where is my stuff?" he queries in a ha ha very funny sort of way.
"There" I say while pointing to the floor and drying the tears from my eyes.
Slowly the realization of what has occurred comes over guitar player's face. Followed by anger and yelling. A lot of yelling. Profanity and claims of "you owe me this much" and threats of violence. And more laughter from me. Bass player makes his point about maybe not leaving your prized pot just laying around. I have to agree it was not the brightest move on guitar players part. Then again, when are potheads known to be very bright anyway?

Cooler heads prevailed and there was no violence. Bass player apologized but did not offer to repay or replace the spilt ganja. Guitar player got over his loss by scoring more from a local. I continued to laugh about the whole thing for most of the week-end. I guess drugs can be good after all. Good entertainment for those of us who are not on them and don't care what happens to them. I still see guitar player around town every now and then. He's still a pot head as far as I know. Bass player is still my best friend and playing in my current band. He's still a car guy who reads car magazines without checking for pot first. I still find the whole situation very funny.