http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm Sat, 21 Nov 2009 01:11:25 GMT http://bandzoogle.com http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=125946 This is my latest article for the Good Stuff Guitars newsletter.    I’m going to do something I don’t usually do; get cranky.    Generally, is something ticks me off, I’ll let it sit, and when I do finally write about it, try to find a funny, gentle way of approaching it. Well, no more Mister Nice Guy. People need to be taught a lesson.    Here’s what’s been bugging me a lot lately; there is a HUGE difference between “Playing Music”, and “Being a Musician”. Face it, we live in “The age of the Hobbyist” now. Everyone is in a band, or goes to Jam Nights, or does whatever else is involved with dusting off that old Strat or buying a new one. More people now are playing music than at any time in the known history of mankind.    Okay, I made that up, but it’s probably really, really true, what with population and all.    So if you’re in that category, and wondering where you stand on the Big-Time Musician scale, answer this; how good are you at listening? Not listening to music in general, but listening to other players while you are playing? Are you so involved and intent on what you’re doing that you’re missing the forest for the trees?    If you’re playing with others, and when someone’s soloing, you can’t hear them, FAIL. Can you hear the lyrics while you play? If not; EPIC FAIL. “That’s not fair, Kennan, “ I hear you say, “It’s not me that’s too loud; it’s the other guy!” Well, don’t worry. There’s enough FAIL to go around. Think about what a song is; is it a drum solo with some guitars sprinkled in? Maybe it’s a ham-fisted rhythm guitar part? A room full of monkeys is never going to write Shakespeare, or play “I Got My Mojo Workin’”.    A Band, whether it’s made up of long-time veterans or just thrown together at Jam Night, works as a unit. Your reputation is tied to the weakest link you share the stage with. How you deal with that is how people will judge you. Emphasis; how you deal with that is how people will judge you. A gentle hand signal is usually all it takes, even if you have to stamp your feet and yell to get someone’s attention to do it.    I’ve written before about how Dynamics are the last thing any band learns, and really separates the good from the ghastly. For a band to have dynamics, you have to be able to listen to each other, and to the song. Otherwise why not just stay home and play Guitar Hero.    Here’s the secret Musicians know; when you listen, then you start to react to what other people are playing, then the music isn’t dictated by pre-conceived boundaries, and takes on a life of its own. I can still remember the first time I played a fill locked into a drummer, completely off the top of our heads, together. That was the drug that keeps me coming back. That was magic. That was the day I felt like a Musician, and not just a guy playing music. That’s what I want to be, and that’s who I want to play with. The rest of you; get off my lawn.    Next time; Self criticism. Because if you don’t everyone else will. This is my latest article for the Good Stuff Guitars newsletter.

   I’m going to do something I don’t usually do; get cranky.

   Generally, is something ticks me off, I’ll let it sit, and when I do finally write about it, try to find a funny, gentle way of approaching it. Well, no more Mister Nice Guy. People need to be taught a lesson.

   Here’s what’s been bugging me a lot lately; there is a HUGE difference between “Playing Music”, and “Being a Musician”. Face it, we live in “The age of the Hobbyist” now. Everyone is in a band, or goes to Jam Nights, or does whatever else is involved with dusting off that old Strat or buying a new one. More people now are playing music than at any time in the known history of mankind.

   Okay, I made that up, but it’s probably really, really true, what with population and all.

   So if you’re in that category, and wondering where you stand on the Big-Time Musician scale, answer this; how good are you at listening? Not listening to music in general, but listening to other players while you are playing? Are you so involved and intent on what you’re doing that you’re missing the forest for the trees?

   If you’re playing with others, and when someone’s soloing, you can’t hear them, FAIL. Can you hear the lyrics while you play? If not; EPIC FAIL. “That’s not fair, Kennan, “ I hear you say, “It’s not me that’s too loud; it’s the other guy!” Well, don’t worry. There’s enough FAIL to go around. Think about what a song is; is it a drum solo with some guitars sprinkled in? Maybe it’s a ham-fisted rhythm guitar part? A room full of monkeys is never going to write Shakespeare, or play “I Got My Mojo Workin’”.

   A Band, whether it’s made up of long-time veterans or just thrown together at Jam Night, works as a unit. Your reputation is tied to the weakest link you share the stage with. How you deal with that is how people will judge you. Emphasis; how you deal with that is how people will judge you. A gentle hand signal is usually all it takes, even if you have to stamp your feet and yell to get someone’s attention to do it.

   I’ve written before about how Dynamics are the last thing any band learns, and really separates the good from the ghastly. For a band to have dynamics, you have to be able to listen to each other, and to the song. Otherwise why not just stay home and play Guitar Hero.

   Here’s the secret Musicians know; when you listen, then you start to react to what other people are playing, then the music isn’t dictated by pre-conceived boundaries, and takes on a life of its own. I can still remember the first time I played a fill locked into a drummer, completely off the top of our heads, together. That was the drug that keeps me coming back. That was magic. That was the day I felt like a Musician, and not just a guy playing music. That’s what I want to be, and that’s who I want to play with. The rest of you; get off my lawn.

   Next time; Self criticism. Because if you don’t everyone else will.


]]> Sat, 21 Nov 2009 01:11:25 GMT CBDAB1AF9C8F1E6D06EA02822CD27A5D http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=115014     After the better part of the day at SIR Studios, listening to a few fabulous bassists, and a whole bunch of guys who sounded like they plugged in, turned way up, then threw the bass down a stairwell, I cut out early. I bailed. Even the good players were getting lost in the wash of “a-thumpin’ and a-pluckin’” by the afternoon.     I felt sorry for my host for the weekend, Bobby Vega; he was there demonstrating the new EMG X pickups, amidst all the noise, from 10AM to 6PM, and then had the concert that night. I felt bad leaving him there alone (”Save yourself!”), but his son Rocco and I left with his blessing to get some rest.     The concert that night at the Key Club was the feature that really got Bobby to come down. Rocco Prestia, bassist for Tower of Power, would be presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award by Bass Player Magazine, with Bobby doing the presentation. Upright Jazz Giant Charlie Hayden was being similarly honored, and a large concert/jam session was slated to ensue!     Francis Rocco Prestia has had a huge influence on the way people approach playing funky, groove-heavy bass for years. His single note approach is all about timing and movement, and while he’s often imitated, his technique is singular and far more awe-inspiring than even he knows. Tunes like “What Is Hip”, "You Got To Funkifize" and "You're Still A Young Man" redefined funk bass. Presenting the award was a huge deal for Bobby; when Rocco received a Liver Transplant a few years ago, it was Bobby who covered the gigs for what has to be the most famous “Bass Chair” in music today! (For more on the story, read my BV interview http://kennanshaw.com/bobbyvega.cfm)     When it was time for the ceremony, Bobby talked about how Rocco’s playing with TOP always inspired him to play bass, about how “Rocco put the ‘Power’ in ‘Tower’!” He talked about going to see Rocco, and telling him about naming his own son Rocco after the bassist, and how Rocco said “That’s nice Bobby, but if you really fuckin’ meant it, you’da named him Francis.” Bobby brought his now 13 year old son Rocco out to help with the presentation. It was perfect, and you could see how touched and surprised Rocco Prestia was by the whole thing. The ovation was long and loud.     Meanwhile, I was working on my whole “fly on the wall” approach to hanging out backstage. Here again Bobby was the gracious host and introduced me to everyone he knew, from all the members of Tower that were there, to the myriad of famous influential bassists attending the show.     Leland Sklar, who played with James Taylor, Lyle Lovitt and so many others that it would be easier to list who he hasn’t played with over the years, was just hanging out. I watched him a lot, because he’s got the whole ‘Elder Stateman/Coolest Guy’ vibe going. He complimented Bobby’s presentation, greeted Rocco warmly, shook hands, shared smiles and laughs, and reminded me of the shots of Willie Mays at the All Star Game, surrounded by younger players hoping just a little of his magic would rub off on them. The man played for Barbie Benson, for God’s sake!     I was sitting with Rocco Vega waiting for our food when Dave Girabaldi, drummer for Tower sat down behind me and started his warm up exercises on his practice pad, with big ol’ Marching Band sticks. That was pretty fascinating on its own, but when Tal Wilkenfeld, the young female bass playing phenom from Jeff Beck’s band sat down and the two started talking about drumming, I figured I was, right at that moment, in the middle of the strongest Bass Player Fantasy you could possibly put together.     Steve Bailey (six string fretless bass super clinician) was eating a chicken sandwich a couple tables away. Various members of Tower of Power were sprinkled around the room, and singer Larry Braggs had started laughing when he first saw Bobby, and now the two of them were holding court in a booth in the corner. Relocated Brit Fusion ace Rufus Philpot was trying to get something at the bar, and when Stu Hamm (Satriani, Steve Vai, first choice of Shred Guitarists everywhere) made a crack about Rufus being “Australian”, he kind of froze, reloaded, and in his so-very-British manner said “You’re joking, right?” Jazz chart topper (oxymoron?) Brian Bromberg stood at the bar talking to Leland Sklar, while Sekou Bunch played through the T.C. Electronics Staccato Rocco Prestia Stack against the wall. Bakithi swept through, smiling and laughing as always, and many bassists of great note passed through, some stopping, some just moving through.     The concert itself was amazing. Charlie Haden did a set of straight up jazz with a pianist. That was followed by Juan Aldretti of The Mars Volta, and his latest side band. Talk about “And now for something completely different”.     Then, following the presentation of Rocco’s award, we got a kind of Career Retrospective from the rhythm section – drums, guitar and keyboards – and a two man horn section from Tower of Power, with vocals. It was the best of the Rocco tunes, ending with “What Is Hip” with an extended Rocco solo. Those guys are amazing.     The rhythm section stayed up for the madhouse jam that followed, as Bobby, Tal Wilkenfeld, Rufus Philpot, James Earl, Stu Hamm, and Steve Bailey ( I know I’m forgetting someone…) took the stage for a thunderous take on the TOP song “Squib Cakes”. The stage looked like a bassists dream music store; everyone on stage had their own stack of amps, and they ran from one side to the other, like some strange Cityscape. Tal, who is about five feet tall, had the biggest stack. If she was a guy, the words “over compensation” might come into play.     Let me stop, and talk about Tal, because every bass player I know, upon finding out that I was going to this, wanted to talk about Tal. She has taken the bass world by storm the last couple of years, and is definitely is as close to a ‘bass superstar’ as there is, especially with the release of the “Jeff beck Live at Rionnie Scott’s” DVD. She’s a 23 year old Aussie immigrant who’s cute as a bunny and plays bass like she was born unto it. So everyone wants to know about Tal. So here’s my problem; up close and personal, she’s a very young girl who should sit up straight and spit out the gum, and probably wash her hair once in a while.     That’s right; she is something short of a Goddess, and I am terminally…a dad. I’m not sure which one is more upsetting. *Sigh*.     Have you ever heard about eight bass players all playing at once? Even if you assemble some of the best in the world, there’s a reason bands can have multiple guitarists, a couple of keyboards, and even the rare “double drummer” set up, but always only one bass. “Squib Cakes” started off sounding like an avalanche, but the bassists quickly backed off, found a little niche to play in or just laid out. Steve Bailey was acting as “player coach” (guess who’s amp was loudest?), and would introduce different players to solo. Stu Hamm played T.V. theme songs on his Washburn Signature acoustic, but generally looked like he had a date with Hotel Room pending. Tal started slow and then exploded. Bobby – who was having equipment issues with his signal chain (stupid cable), launched into a solo that had everyone grooving. His son Rocco noticed that “everybody started playing when you played!” It was cacophonous and beautiful.     After that, everyone was pretty ready for some rest. There was more to come; Brian Bromberg and Steve Bailey were going to play, and Verdine White from Earth Wind and Fire was looking for a four string bass to borrow (memo to self; people would be more inclined to lend you a bass if you aren’t wearing a ton of rhinestone and silver jewelry), but we caught a cab back to our hotel.     I got picked up on Sunset by buddies Audrey and Carol for a quick trip to Barney’s Beanery for drinks and talking about how everyone looked 12 years old. They had just seen Echo and the Bunnymen. We laughed a bunch.     The next day was back to SIR for more of Bass Player Live! I took many breaks outside the building. The sonic assault, even with ear plugs, just gets to you after a while. It gets hard to recognize things that sound good, when there is so much ‘sound’ involved. At one point, a guy had brought an upright out to the parking lot, and was just playing a 12 bar blues, nice and easy, and everyone around kind of went “…ahhhh…”. It can be hard to see it, but too much of anything is too much.     Having said that, I would recommend Bass Player Live to every single bassist I know, regardless of your level or experience. The manufacturers are all there showing off their best and newest junk, and all the players are there, and accessible and for the most part, really friendly people. I know a lot of people want to go to NAMM, the music merchandiser’s trade show that’s in Anaheim every January for these same reasons, but BPL is waaayyy better, and I’ll tell you why; you don’t have to wade through a ton of stuff you don’t want to find the gems; at BPL it’s all gems. Even if you don’t have the kind of access I was bestowed by my hosts, even if you go for one day and take it in, you’ll love it.     I want to thank “The Two Scott’s” from EMG. Those guys know there stuff, and seemed to have a good time. Very funny. Thanks to Mike Vernon for the hang. And a big fat special ‘thank you’ to Bobby and Rocco Vega, for sharing the whole thing with me. They made me feel like family, and shared insights, hopes, and jokes freely.     Okay; party’s over. Back to work. Anybody got any gigs?
    I felt sorry for my host for the weekend, Bobby Vega; he was there demonstrating the new EMG X pickups, amidst all the noise, from 10AM to 6PM, and then had the concert that night. I felt bad leaving him there alone (”Save yourself!”), but his son Rocco and I left with his blessing to get some rest.

    The concert that night at the Key Club was the feature that really got Bobby to come down. Rocco Prestia, bassist for Tower of Power, would be presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award by Bass Player Magazine, with Bobby doing the presentation. Upright Jazz Giant Charlie Hayden was being similarly honored, and a large concert/jam session was slated to ensue!

    Francis Rocco Prestia has had a huge influence on the way people approach playing funky, groove-heavy bass for years. His single note approach is all about timing and movement, and while he’s often imitated, his technique is singular and far more awe-inspiring than even he knows. Tunes like “What Is Hip”, "You Got To Funkifize" and "You're Still A Young Man" redefined funk bass. Presenting the award was a huge deal for Bobby; when Rocco received a Liver Transplant a few years ago, it was Bobby who covered the gigs for what has to be the most famous “Bass Chair” in music today!
(For more on the story, read my BV interview http://kennanshaw.com/bobbyvega.cfm)

    When it was time for the ceremony, Bobby talked about how Rocco’s playing with TOP always inspired him to play bass, about how “Rocco put the ‘Power’ in ‘Tower’!” He talked about going to see Rocco, and telling him about naming his own son Rocco after the bassist, and how Rocco said “That’s nice Bobby, but if you really fuckin’ meant it, you’da named him Francis.” Bobby brought his now 13 year old son Rocco out to help with the presentation. It was perfect, and you could see how touched and surprised Rocco Prestia was by the whole thing. The ovation was long and loud.

    Meanwhile, I was working on my whole “fly on the wall” approach to hanging out backstage. Here again Bobby was the gracious host and introduced me to everyone he knew, from all the members of Tower that were there, to the myriad of famous influential bassists attending the show.

    Leland Sklar, who played with James Taylor, Lyle Lovitt and so many others that it would be easier to list who he hasn’t played with over the years, was just hanging out. I watched him a lot, because he’s got the whole ‘Elder Stateman/Coolest Guy’ vibe going. He complimented Bobby’s presentation, greeted Rocco warmly, shook hands, shared smiles and laughs, and reminded me of the shots of Willie Mays at the All Star Game, surrounded by younger players hoping just a little of his magic would rub off on them. The man played for Barbie Benson, for God’s sake!

    I was sitting with Rocco Vega waiting for our food when Dave Girabaldi, drummer for Tower sat down behind me and started his warm up exercises on his practice pad, with big ol’ Marching Band sticks. That was pretty fascinating on its own, but when Tal Wilkenfeld, the young female bass playing phenom from Jeff Beck’s band sat down and the two started talking about drumming, I figured I was, right at that moment, in the middle of the strongest Bass Player Fantasy you could possibly put together.

    Steve Bailey (six string fretless bass super clinician) was eating a chicken sandwich a couple tables away. Various members of Tower of Power were sprinkled around the room, and singer Larry Braggs had started laughing when he first saw Bobby, and now the two of them were holding court in a booth in the corner. Relocated Brit Fusion ace Rufus Philpot was trying to get something at the bar, and when Stu Hamm (Satriani, Steve Vai, first choice of Shred Guitarists everywhere) made a crack about Rufus being “Australian”, he kind of froze, reloaded, and in his so-very-British manner said “You’re joking, right?” Jazz chart topper (oxymoron?) Brian Bromberg stood at the bar talking to Leland Sklar, while Sekou Bunch played through the T.C. Electronics Staccato Rocco Prestia Stack against the wall. Bakithi swept through, smiling and laughing as always, and many bassists of great note passed through, some stopping, some just moving through.

    The concert itself was amazing. Charlie Haden did a set of straight up jazz with a pianist. That was followed by Juan Aldretti of The Mars Volta, and his latest side band. Talk about “And now for something completely different”.

    Then, following the presentation of Rocco’s award, we got a kind of Career Retrospective from the rhythm section – drums, guitar and keyboards – and a two man horn section from Tower of Power, with vocals. It was the best of the Rocco tunes, ending with “What Is Hip” with an extended Rocco solo. Those guys are amazing.

    The rhythm section stayed up for the madhouse jam that followed, as Bobby, Tal Wilkenfeld, Rufus Philpot, James Earl, Stu Hamm, and Steve Bailey ( I know I’m forgetting someone…) took the stage for a thunderous take on the TOP song “Squib Cakes”. The stage looked like a bassists dream music store; everyone on stage had their own stack of amps, and they ran from one side to the other, like some strange Cityscape. Tal, who is about five feet tall, had the biggest stack. If she was a guy, the words “over compensation” might come into play.

    Let me stop, and talk about Tal, because every bass player I know, upon finding out that I was going to this, wanted to talk about Tal. She has taken the bass world by storm the last couple of years, and is definitely is as close to a ‘bass superstar’ as there is, especially with the release of the “Jeff beck Live at Rionnie Scott’s” DVD. She’s a 23 year old Aussie immigrant who’s cute as a bunny and plays bass like she was born unto it. So everyone wants to know about Tal. So here’s my problem; up close and personal, she’s a very young girl who should sit up straight and spit out the gum, and probably wash her hair once in a while.

    That’s right; she is something short of a Goddess, and I am terminally…a dad. I’m not sure which one is more upsetting. *Sigh*.

    Have you ever heard about eight bass players all playing at once? Even if you assemble some of the best in the world, there’s a reason bands can have multiple guitarists, a couple of keyboards, and even the rare “double drummer” set up, but always only one bass. “Squib Cakes” started off sounding like an avalanche, but the bassists quickly backed off, found a little niche to play in or just laid out. Steve Bailey was acting as “player coach” (guess who’s amp was loudest?), and would introduce different players to solo. Stu Hamm played T.V. theme songs on his Washburn Signature acoustic, but generally looked like he had a date with Hotel Room pending. Tal started slow and then exploded. Bobby – who was having equipment issues with his signal chain (stupid cable), launched into a solo that had everyone grooving. His son Rocco noticed that “everybody started playing when you played!” It was cacophonous and beautiful.

    After that, everyone was pretty ready for some rest. There was more to come; Brian Bromberg and Steve Bailey were going to play, and Verdine White from Earth Wind and Fire was looking for a four string bass to borrow (memo to self; people would be more inclined to lend you a bass if you aren’t wearing a ton of rhinestone and silver jewelry), but we caught a cab back to our hotel.

    I got picked up on Sunset by buddies Audrey and Carol for a quick trip to Barney’s Beanery for drinks and talking about how everyone looked 12 years old. They had just seen Echo and the Bunnymen. We laughed a bunch.

    The next day was back to SIR for more of Bass Player Live! I took many breaks outside the building. The sonic assault, even with ear plugs, just gets to you after a while. It gets hard to recognize things that sound good, when there is so much ‘sound’ involved. At one point, a guy had brought an upright out to the parking lot, and was just playing a 12 bar blues, nice and easy, and everyone around kind of went “…ahhhh…”. It can be hard to see it, but too much of anything is too much.

    Having said that, I would recommend Bass Player Live to every single bassist I know, regardless of your level or experience. The manufacturers are all there showing off their best and newest junk, and all the players are there, and accessible and for the most part, really friendly people. I know a lot of people want to go to NAMM, the music merchandiser’s trade show that’s in Anaheim every January for these same reasons, but BPL is waaayyy better, and I’ll tell you why; you don’t have to wade through a ton of stuff you don’t want to find the gems; at BPL it’s all gems. Even if you don’t have the kind of access I was bestowed by my hosts, even if you go for one day and take it in, you’ll love it.

    I want to thank “The Two Scott’s” from EMG. Those guys know there stuff, and seemed to have a good time. Very funny. Thanks to Mike Vernon for the hang. And a big fat special ‘thank you’ to Bobby and Rocco Vega, for sharing the whole thing with me. They made me feel like family, and shared insights, hopes, and jokes freely.


    Okay; party’s over. Back to work. Anybody got any gigs?

]]> Wed, 04 Nov 2009 00:57:09 GMT 6686733D5D5B28E0CC64F4BB915C445C http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=111165     I’ve been staring at the computer screen trying to figure out how to start writing about Bass Player Live, last weekend in Los Angeles. In trying to come up with a good “hook” for an intro, I’m trying to put a label on what exactly the whole thing was. The problem is, it wasn’t any one thing; it was inspiring, humbling, exasperating, exciting, ridiculous, revealing, and grueling, all at once, within any five minute time span. Most of all, it was a lot of fun, so I guess the safe way to go is to try to impart that, while giving you a taste of all the other things, too.     First of all, how often do you get to spend that much time with someone who you admire and learn from? The whole trip was courtesy of Bobby Vega, and the chance to hang out, talk to him, and watch how he went about his business was invaluable. Right off the top, I can’t thank him enough for the experience.     The event took place at SIR Studios in Hollywood. SIR is a large rehearsal and equipment rental facility right on Sunset Strip. The rooms were full of manufacturers showing off their latest gear and their latest endorsers. Bobby was there on behalf of EMG Pickups, and was showcasing the “X” pickups he helped develop. He was also there at the behest of Bass Player Magazine to present Tower of Power bassist Rocco Prestia a Lifetime Achievement Award.     Rather than try to tell the story chronologically, which could take hours to read, I want to present it as little snapshots, to give you an idea of how the weekend went. Things were always changing, someone coming in, something going on over here, someone playing this, people pushing that – sensory overload in a low register. Life imitating quick-cut marketing. If you’re not a bass player, I’ll try to explain some things as I go, if you are, be patient with me!     In the ever-crowded Ernie Ball Music Man/Markbass room, a Round Table discussion features EBMM Prez Sterling Ball, bass heavyweights Dave Marotta, Juan Nelson, Stan Seargeant, and Tony Levin, long time Peter Gabriel/King Crimson/everyone bassist. Tony Levin has the best line of the show, in answer to “What are you currently up to?” Tony said “I’m busy. Busy is the new ‘rich’.” Sterling talked so passionately about running the company and how certain bass designs came about that I was about ready to enlist.     Canadian fusion giant Alain Caron played in the same room. As good as he is on that six string fretless F Bass, and he is very good, the groove didn’t kick in until the drummer came in. Sometimes ‘Funky’ is more than a one-man job.     Bakithi Kumalo, who played bass on Paul Simon’s “Graceland”, amongst other things, is not very tall, but is about 75% Smile. If anyone had a better time than me this weekend, it was him. Always smiling, laughing, and playing. He bounces around the room the way his bass lines bounce right through the speakers. On Sunday, when Phil Chen showed up at the show, the two of them were hilarious to watch, leaning their heads together and laughing riotously at whatever private moment they shared. Phil Chen, who played Jeff Beck’s “Freeway Jam” and Rod Stewart’s “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy”, not to mention that’s him playing the bass solo on “Hot Legs”, is actually from Jamaica, so listening to the African bass player talk to the Chinese bassist from Jamaica was music in and of itself.     After about a half day of listening to bassists strut and preen in front of each other, Stu Hamm poked his head in to say ‘hi’ to Bobby and said “They should have called this ‘Mid-Range Player Live’.”     Chris Chaney (Jane’s Addiction, Alanis Morisette) bounding up to say hello to Tony Franklin (Bad Company, The Firm).     Norwood Fisher’s (Fishbone) 10:30AM clinic; “I’ve never really done this kind of thing. I should be out surfing, y’all.” He was funny, personable, and even though he forgot parts of songs, he was revealing about where “this stuff” comes from, and how he came up with different techniques and ideas. Asked why he hangs his bass so low, he explained that there were two reasons; reason number one, all the coolest guys on Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert and Midnight Special hung their guitars low. The second reason was that when he was starting, he had a bass book that said to ‘adjust your strap so that you’re at your most comfortable, and he figured there wasn’t anything more comfortable than just letting your arms hang! He then spent all of Sunday hanging at the Warwick booth.     Speaking of booths, there was a lot of ‘Bass Porn’ on display (non bassists, bear with me!). Bobby and the EMG X’s were a big hit, and a lot of players came by to check out him demoing them. The JA-X’s were particularly popular.     Aguilar debuted the new 751 Bass head, the replacement for the popular 750. They’ve redone the design and mid-range structure, and the price is actually less than the 750’s. This could mean there will be a lot of 750’s on the used market, too (Dominic)!     Sekou Bunch was all over the place getting people to try the new Carvin SB400 bass. Good reviews all around for the jazz-like, Alnico equipped bass, and Sekou was the perfect Ambassador, with a quick smile and easy laugh. He was always playing something, somewhere.     The new “Classic Collection” Stingrays were on display at the Ernie Ball booth, featuring cool colors like Seafoam Green, Shell Pink, and Vintage White, and sporting 2-band EQ’a and thumbscrew bridge mutes, like the original Stingrays. Sterling said the original mutes were discontinued years ago under threat of lawsuit by someone who apparently cut themselves on the metal edges. He brought them back now because “I’ve got better insurance.”     I was a fly on the wall for a conversation between Michael Tobias and Bobby about tone, strings, and all things bass, and it was fascinating to hear a guy so up on his craft talk about his own stuff. He had a beautiful bass set up with LaBella Black Tape strings, and I’ve never heard those strings sound more musical.     Other manufacturers with cool stuff were Alleva-Coppolo Basses, T.C. Electronics, King Doublebass, Spector, D’Addario Strings, Fender, and many more.     To illustrate the whole “drummer/Bassist dynamic, I ‘Facebooked’ the fact that John Ferraro was drumming in the Ernie Ball room, and got three text messages from bass players to tell him “Hi”. Well, two ‘hi’ messages and one that said to “kiss his bald head for me”. I passed along the ‘hellos’!     Mikey Vernon was there helping out with the Spector booth and lending a hand setting up EMG’s stuff. Mikey is one of those invaluable guys who the general public never knows about, but he’s actually the one who makes things ‘go’. He’s a long-time Bass tech for touring bands, and is what I call a “GSD Guy”. He “Gets Shit Done”. Plus he was a great hang all weekend. In the bass world, if you need shit done, check him out; http://totalmetalgear.tech.officelive.com     In the next installment, I’ll tell you about the concert and awards ceremony! Backstage at the Key Club was really Bass Player Heaven! I’ll also get to some overall thoughts, and why if you’re a bass player, you need to attend one of these beasts, and if you do, how not to lose your mind (if that's possible).
    First of all, how often do you get to spend that much time with someone who you admire and learn from? The whole trip was courtesy of Bobby Vega, and the chance to hang out, talk to him, and watch how he went about his business was invaluable. Right off the top, I can’t thank him enough for the experience.

    The event took place at SIR Studios in Hollywood. SIR is a large rehearsal and equipment rental facility right on Sunset Strip. The rooms were full of manufacturers showing off their latest gear and their latest endorsers. Bobby was there on behalf of EMG Pickups, and was showcasing the “X” pickups he helped develop. He was also there at the behest of Bass Player Magazine to present Tower of Power bassist Rocco Prestia a Lifetime Achievement Award.

    Rather than try to tell the story chronologically, which could take hours to read, I want to present it as little snapshots, to give you an idea of how the weekend went. Things were always changing, someone coming in, something going on over here, someone playing this, people pushing that – sensory overload in a low register. Life imitating quick-cut marketing. If you’re not a bass player, I’ll try to explain some things as I go, if you are, be patient with me!

    In the ever-crowded Ernie Ball Music Man/Markbass room, a Round Table discussion features EBMM Prez Sterling Ball, bass heavyweights Dave Marotta, Juan Nelson, Stan Seargeant, and Tony Levin, long time Peter Gabriel/King Crimson/everyone bassist. Tony Levin has the best line of the show, in answer to “What are you currently up to?” Tony said “I’m busy. Busy is the new ‘rich’.” Sterling talked so passionately about running the company and how certain bass designs came about that I was about ready to enlist.

    Canadian fusion giant Alain Caron played in the same room. As good as he is on that six string fretless F Bass, and he is very good, the groove didn’t kick in until the drummer came in. Sometimes ‘Funky’ is more than a one-man job.

    Bakithi Kumalo, who played bass on Paul Simon’s “Graceland”, amongst other things, is not very tall, but is about 75% Smile. If anyone had a better time than me this weekend, it was him. Always smiling, laughing, and playing. He bounces around the room the way his bass lines bounce right through the speakers. On Sunday, when Phil Chen showed up at the show, the two of them were hilarious to watch, leaning their heads together and laughing riotously at whatever private moment they shared. Phil Chen, who played Jeff Beck’s “Freeway Jam” and Rod Stewart’s “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy”, not to mention that’s him playing the bass solo on “Hot Legs”, is actually from Jamaica, so listening to the African bass player talk to the Chinese bassist from Jamaica was music in and of itself.

    After about a half day of listening to bassists strut and preen in front of each other, Stu Hamm poked his head in to say ‘hi’ to Bobby and said “They should have called this ‘Mid-Range Player Live’.”

    Chris Chaney (Jane’s Addiction, Alanis Morisette) bounding up to say hello to Tony Franklin (Bad Company, The Firm).

    Norwood Fisher’s (Fishbone) 10:30AM clinic; “I’ve never really done this kind of thing. I should be out surfing, y’all.” He was funny, personable, and even though he forgot parts of songs, he was revealing about where “this stuff” comes from, and how he came up with different techniques and ideas. Asked why he hangs his bass so low, he explained that there were two reasons; reason number one, all the coolest guys on Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert and Midnight Special hung their guitars low. The second reason was that when he was starting, he had a bass book that said to ‘adjust your strap so that you’re at your most comfortable, and he figured there wasn’t anything more comfortable than just letting your arms hang! He then spent all of Sunday hanging at the Warwick booth.

    Speaking of booths, there was a lot of ‘Bass Porn’ on display (non bassists, bear with me!). Bobby and the EMG X’s were a big hit, and a lot of players came by to check out him demoing them. The JA-X’s were particularly popular.

    Aguilar debuted the new 751 Bass head, the replacement for the popular 750. They’ve redone the design and mid-range structure, and the price is actually less than the 750’s. This could mean there will be a lot of 750’s on the used market, too (Dominic)!

    Sekou Bunch was all over the place getting people to try the new Carvin SB400 bass. Good reviews all around for the jazz-like, Alnico equipped bass, and Sekou was the perfect Ambassador, with a quick smile and easy laugh. He was always playing something, somewhere.

    The new “Classic Collection” Stingrays were on display at the Ernie Ball booth, featuring cool colors like Seafoam Green, Shell Pink, and Vintage White, and sporting 2-band EQ’a and thumbscrew bridge mutes, like the original Stingrays. Sterling said the original mutes were discontinued years ago under threat of lawsuit by someone who apparently cut themselves on the metal edges. He brought them back now because “I’ve got better insurance.”

    I was a fly on the wall for a conversation between Michael Tobias and Bobby about tone, strings, and all things bass, and it was fascinating to hear a guy so up on his craft talk about his own stuff. He had a beautiful bass set up with LaBella Black Tape strings, and I’ve never heard those strings sound more musical.

    Other manufacturers with cool stuff were Alleva-Coppolo Basses, T.C. Electronics, King Doublebass, Spector, D’Addario Strings, Fender, and many more.

    To illustrate the whole “drummer/Bassist dynamic, I ‘Facebooked’ the fact that John Ferraro was drumming in the Ernie Ball room, and got three text messages from bass players to tell him “Hi”. Well, two ‘hi’ messages and one that said to “kiss his bald head for me”. I passed along the ‘hellos’!

    Mikey Vernon was there helping out with the Spector booth and lending a hand setting up EMG’s stuff. Mikey is one of those invaluable guys who the general public never knows about, but he’s actually the one who makes things ‘go’. He’s a long-time Bass tech for touring bands, and is what I call a “GSD Guy”. He “Gets Shit Done”. Plus he was a great hang all weekend. In the bass world, if you need shit done, check him out; http://totalmetalgear.tech.officelive.com

    In the next installment, I’ll tell you about the concert and awards ceremony! Backstage at the Key Club was really Bass Player Heaven! I’ll also get to some overall thoughts, and why if you’re a bass player, you need to attend one of these beasts, and if you do, how not to lose your mind (if that's possible).

]]> Thu, 29 Oct 2009 22:15:00 GMT 8FDD53FC3A579A206359CE40DDE4CE21 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=102109 &nbsp;&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll tell you a little secret; &nbsp;&nbsp; I think I&rsquo;m a pretty good bass player. In fact, I think I&rsquo;m damn good. There are times that I get just enough warm up time, and the tone and volume are just right, and I feel like anything I try is going to work. Crazy stuff, too. On top of that, my groove is good, too. And I understand how songs work, and how the bass works within a band. I&rsquo;m at the top of my game! &nbsp;&nbsp; So naturally, it&rsquo;s time for a beat down. &nbsp;&nbsp; In 2006 I attended the School of Bass in Arizona. I had come off about 8 months of touring the world, and thought I was the King of the Bass. Being around all the instructors and clinicians adjusted my attitude in about ten minutes. I saw things that had me questioning whether I was actually even playing the same instrument as the faculty that was assembled for that event. &nbsp;&nbsp; I&rsquo;m expecting the same experience this weekend at Bass Player Live in Los Angeles. I&rsquo;ll be there as a guest of Bobby Vega, who will be promoting the new EMG X pickups, presenting Tower of Power&rsquo;s Rocco Prestia with a Lifetime Achievement Award, and just generally being an amazing guy. Bobby called me and thanked me for my recent interview, and said he felt that things were really taking off for him and was grateful for my efforts. &nbsp;&nbsp; Yeah. My efforts to hang around my favorite bass player and soak up pointers and playing tips! That was hard! (Read my interview with Bobby here; <a href="./bobbyvega.cfm">http://kennanshaw.com/bobbyvega.cfm) &nbsp;&nbsp; So I&rsquo;ll be rubbing shoulders with a ton of great players, manufacturers, and general practitioners of the bass this weekend. Notes will be taken, information will be absorbed, hands will be shook, business cards will be exchanged, and in the end, many, many things will be written! &nbsp;&nbsp; By Monday, at the Good stuff Guitars Blues Jam at Armando&rsquo;s, I probably won&rsquo;t be feeling like the awesome bassist I am right now, but I&rsquo;ll have a little better idea of how to get there.
   I think I’m a pretty good bass player. In fact, I think I’m damn good. There are times that I get just enough warm up time, and the tone and volume are just right, and I feel like anything I try is going to work. Crazy stuff, too. On top of that, my groove is good, too. And I understand how songs work, and how the bass works within a band. I’m at the top of my game!

   So naturally, it’s time for a beat down.

   In 2006 I attended the School of Bass in Arizona. I had come off about 8 months of touring the world, and thought I was the King of the Bass. Being around all the instructors and clinicians adjusted my attitude in about ten minutes. I saw things that had me questioning whether I was actually even playing the same instrument as the faculty that was assembled for that event.

   I’m expecting the same experience this weekend at Bass Player Live in Los Angeles. I’ll be there as a guest of Bobby Vega, who will be promoting the new EMG X pickups, presenting Tower of Power’s Rocco Prestia with a Lifetime Achievement Award, and just generally being an amazing guy. Bobby called me and thanked me for my recent interview, and said he felt that things were really taking off for him and was grateful for my efforts.

   Yeah. My efforts to hang around my favorite bass player and soak up pointers and playing tips! That was hard! (Read my interview with Bobby here; http://kennanshaw.com/bobbyvega.cfm)

   So I’ll be rubbing shoulders with a ton of great players, manufacturers, and general practitioners of the bass this weekend. Notes will be taken, information will be absorbed, hands will be shook, business cards will be exchanged, and in the end, many, many things will be written!

   By Monday, at the Good stuff Guitars Blues Jam at Armando’s, I probably won’t be feeling like the awesome bassist I am right now, but I’ll have a little better idea of how to get there.

]]> Tue, 20 Oct 2009 21:06:04 GMT 642592806C26D7C6A946BD05D654DD55 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=92746 &nbsp;&nbsp; Shockingly, it seems I&rsquo;ve developed something of a reputation when it comes to&hellip;the &ldquo;R&rdquo; word. Okay, so I may have written some disparaging things about Rehearsals. I admit, I&rsquo;m not the biggest fan. There are times and circumstances where taking an &ldquo;Art is fleeting&rdquo; approach to music is more exciting. &nbsp;&nbsp; There are times, however, when a little rehearsal can be called for. Thursday is the debut premiere grand opening show for KT &amp; the Wicked Gents. This is a band made up of some hardened professionals. We could easily walk in, and play right out of the box. &ldquo;Do you know this song?&rdquo; &ldquo;What key?&rdquo; and BLAM! We&rsquo;d all like this to be a more than a &lsquo;pick up&rsquo; band, so when the first gig was booked, we scheduled in two rehearsals. We&rsquo;re not reinventing the wheel here, we just want to be able to try some different things; put a different beat on a familiar tune, maybe stretch some passages out for solos&hellip;fun musician-type junk! &nbsp;&nbsp; The first rehearsal, a couple of weeks ago, it was the first time we were all together. It was a warm night in Benicia, so we left some doors open, and after about an hour, the Police showed up. It was like I was sixteen again, in Jamie Riddick&rsquo;s garage! So our first rehearsal became a &ldquo;band meeting&rdquo;. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Cop actually said &ldquo;Are you a band?&rdquo; Nope. Podiatrists. Go figure. &nbsp;&nbsp; Last night we had our second rehearsal, this time with doors closed. Smokin&rsquo;! Working our way through arrangements, going over transitions from solo to bridge, and from rumba to swing, &lsquo;jazzing up&rsquo; old favorites&hellip;having a great time, when all of a sudden; POP; power goes out. Pitch black. &nbsp;&nbsp; First thought; blew a fuse. Second thought; somebody cut the power. Third thought; I am not getting out of here without tripping over everything. &nbsp;&nbsp; A peek out the window confirmed that the whole neighborhood was dark. Weird. No storm, not really windy, just a power outage. A little walk down the street, and it became apparent that the whole city of Benicia was dark! From the hill, you could see the lights of Vallejo, Port Costa and Crockett, but Benicia was blacked out. Once again, rehearsal became &ldquo;band meeting&rdquo; as we went over what would be our Set List. Some things had to be dropped. Without playing them, we don&rsquo;t want to try to play them. Not much though; like I said &ndash; professionals. &nbsp;&nbsp; As I made my way out of Benicia, the lights of the city came back on. Flat out conspiracy against us. Damn you, Benicia! Some people are sensitive to the concept of &lsquo;omens&rsquo;, and would say that KT &amp; the Wicked Gents should be mindful of whether there&rsquo;s an overabundance of Bad Mojo, but I have seen Bad Mojo (someday I&rsquo;ll tell you a story of death, heartbreak, and madness, all on a &lsquo;first gig&rsquo;), and I&rsquo;m pretty sure we&rsquo;re okay. &nbsp;&nbsp; Just in case, though, come out and help us with our Karma! Hey, just because I say &lsquo;I think we&rsquo;re okay&rsquo; doesn&rsquo;t mean I ignore this stuff! KT &amp; the Wicked Gents Armando&rsquo;s Thursday, October 8th, 8 to 10PM 707 Marina Vista, Martinez
   There are times, however, when a little rehearsal can be called for. Thursday is the debut premiere grand opening show for KT & the Wicked Gents. This is a band made up of some hardened professionals. We could easily walk in, and play right out of the box. “Do you know this song?” “What key?” and BLAM! We’d all like this to be a more than a ‘pick up’ band, so when the first gig was booked, we scheduled in two rehearsals. We’re not reinventing the wheel here, we just want to be able to try some different things; put a different beat on a familiar tune, maybe stretch some passages out for solos…fun musician-type junk!

   The first rehearsal, a couple of weeks ago, it was the first time we were all together. It was a warm night in Benicia, so we left some doors open, and after about an hour, the Police showed up. It was like I was sixteen again, in Jamie Riddick’s garage! So our first rehearsal became a “band meeting”.

   The Cop actually said “Are you a band?” Nope. Podiatrists. Go figure.

   Last night we had our second rehearsal, this time with doors closed. Smokin’! Working our way through arrangements, going over transitions from solo to bridge, and from rumba to swing, ‘jazzing up’ old favorites…having a great time, when all of a sudden; POP; power goes out. Pitch black.

   First thought; blew a fuse. Second thought; somebody cut the power. Third thought; I am not getting out of here without tripping over everything.

   A peek out the window confirmed that the whole neighborhood was dark. Weird. No storm, not really windy, just a power outage. A little walk down the street, and it became apparent that the whole city of Benicia was dark! From the hill, you could see the lights of Vallejo, Port Costa and Crockett, but Benicia was blacked out. Once again, rehearsal became “band meeting” as we went over what would be our Set List. Some things had to be dropped. Without playing them, we don’t want to try to play them. Not much though; like I said – professionals.

   As I made my way out of Benicia, the lights of the city came back on. Flat out conspiracy against us. Damn you, Benicia! Some people are sensitive to the concept of ‘omens’, and would say that KT & the Wicked Gents should be mindful of whether there’s an overabundance of Bad Mojo, but I have seen Bad Mojo (someday I’ll tell you a story of death, heartbreak, and madness, all on a ‘first gig’), and I’m pretty sure we’re okay.

   Just in case, though, come out and help us with our Karma! Hey, just because I say ‘I think we’re okay’ doesn’t mean I ignore this stuff!

KT & the Wicked Gents
Armando’s
Thursday, October 8th, 8 to 10PM
707 Marina Vista, Martinez

]]> Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:19:52 GMT 67F1B2AD9BFA3FCE597A5AB8FDB8EB3F http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=89556 &nbsp;&nbsp; How many bands have I played with this year? An unofficial count comes out to 23. Twenty-Three different bands just this calendar year! A lot were one-offs, sub gigs that I did one or two shows. Some were put together for a specific show. A couple were bands I was, or am, a &lsquo;member&rsquo; of, but actually joining a band is a rarer thing for me. &nbsp;&nbsp; Twenty three. It&rsquo;s a good number. Twenty Four, on the other hand, is a great number. Willie Mays wore 24. Twenty Four has a lot of symmetry to it. Two dozen. Six times four. Two feet equals twenty four inches. Endless possibilities with 24. &nbsp;&nbsp; All of which is why I&rsquo;m happy to announce a brand new band; KT &amp; the Wicked Gents. I haven&rsquo;t talked about this band at all, because I wanted to make sure it was happening. I didn&rsquo;t want to start talking it up, and then have nothing going on! &ldquo;Yeah, we&rsquo;re excellent! When we start gigging, it will take the world by storm, dude!&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp; KT &amp; the Wicked Gents is a lot more than a lip service band. KT stands for Kathy Trejcka (rhymes with &lsquo;Fresca&rsquo;), the excellent keyboardist and vocalist from Johnny Nitro&rsquo;s band. The guitar section features the incomparable Kelly Back, my partner in crime from the now defunct Wingnut Adams band and the occasional Miko Marks gig. Also featured on guitar is Nick Montes. Remember when the 49ers had Joe Montana and Steve Young? It&rsquo;s like that, but on guitar. Jan Jackson plays drums, and brings his own take on the &lsquo;Soul Stew&rsquo;. I playing bass, like you didn&rsquo;t know. &nbsp;&nbsp; This is a band of serious professionals dedicated to &ldquo;playing&rdquo; music. I&rsquo;ll tell you a secret; we&rsquo;ve only played together once, as I write this. A couple of hours, and we had A.) a huge initial songlist to work from, B.) some crazy, funky arrangements of some veritable R&amp;B standards, and C.) one visit from the Police. Here&rsquo;s the &lsquo;pull-quote&rsquo;; &ldquo;A volatile mix of old and new. The sonic equivalent of showing up at your High School reunion in a &rsquo;59 Caddie convertible with mags and a flame paint job!&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp; Okay, I just made that up, and I don&rsquo;t really know what it means but it sounds cool. And it&rsquo;s a better line than &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what it means, but it sounds cool!&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp; KT &amp; the Wicked Gents is a throwback in another way; we actually booked gigs before setting up a MySpace, Facebook, Twitter account, and all the other social network things. We don&rsquo;t have a CD to sell. As of right now, we&rsquo;re &ldquo;just&rdquo; a band! How quaint! How positively &ldquo;1975&rdquo; of us! &nbsp;&nbsp; So, as of now, there&rsquo;s only one way to get a dose of what we&rsquo;re giving out; come see our debut show! Be the first on your block! You&rsquo;ll be the guy (or gal) saying &ldquo;I saw their first show! Now they&rsquo;re bigger than&hellip;than&hellip;I dunno&hellip;the DMV!&rdquo; Here&rsquo;s the info; KT &amp; the Wicked Gents The Grand Premiere Debut! Thursday October 8th, 8 to 10PM Armando&rsquo;s 707 Marina Vista, Martinez &nbsp;&nbsp; Think about it; our first show. We don&rsquo;t even know what&rsquo;s going to happen! I do know this, though; with these guys, it will be awesome. And you&rsquo;ll be home by 10:30! Why would you think of missing it? http://www.myspace.com/kathytejcka http://www.armandosmartinez.com
   Twenty three. It’s a good number. Twenty Four, on the other hand, is a great number. Willie Mays wore 24. Twenty Four has a lot of symmetry to it. Two dozen. Six times four. Two feet equals twenty four inches. Endless possibilities with 24.

   All of which is why I’m happy to announce a brand new band; KT & the Wicked Gents. I haven’t talked about this band at all, because I wanted to make sure it was happening. I didn’t want to start talking it up, and then have nothing going on! “Yeah, we’re excellent! When we start gigging, it will take the world by storm, dude!”

   KT & the Wicked Gents is a lot more than a lip service band. KT stands for Kathy Trejcka (rhymes with ‘Fresca’), the excellent keyboardist and vocalist from Johnny Nitro’s band. The guitar section features the incomparable Kelly Back, my partner in crime from the now defunct Wingnut Adams band and the occasional Miko Marks gig. Also featured on guitar is Nick Montes. Remember when the 49ers had Joe Montana and Steve Young? It’s like that, but on guitar. Jan Jackson plays drums, and brings his own take on the ‘Soul Stew’. I playing bass, like you didn’t know.

   This is a band of serious professionals dedicated to “playing” music. I’ll tell you a secret; we’ve only played together once, as I write this. A couple of hours, and we had A.) a huge initial songlist to work from, B.) some crazy, funky arrangements of some veritable R&B standards, and C.) one visit from the Police. Here’s the ‘pull-quote’;

“A volatile mix of old and new. The sonic equivalent of showing up at your High School reunion in a ’59 Caddie convertible with mags and a flame paint job!”

   Okay, I just made that up, and I don’t really know what it means but it sounds cool. And it’s a better line than “I don’t know what it means, but it sounds cool!”

   KT & the Wicked Gents is a throwback in another way; we actually booked gigs before setting up a MySpace, Facebook, Twitter account, and all the other social network things. We don’t have a CD to sell. As of right now, we’re “just” a band! How quaint! How positively “1975” of us!

   So, as of now, there’s only one way to get a dose of what we’re giving out; come see our debut show! Be the first on your block! You’ll be the guy (or gal) saying “I saw their first show! Now they’re bigger than…than…I dunno…the DMV!” Here’s the info;

KT & the Wicked Gents
The Grand Premiere Debut!
Thursday October 8th, 8 to 10PM
Armando’s
707 Marina Vista, Martinez

   Think about it; our first show. We don’t even know what’s going to happen! I do know this, though; with these guys, it will be awesome. And you’ll be home by 10:30! Why would you think of missing it?

http://www.myspace.com/kathytejcka
http://www.armandosmartinez.com


]]> Thu, 01 Oct 2009 23:57:41 GMT F954E3AC16544B1091408EF124FBD7D0 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=85009 &nbsp;&nbsp; I go to New Orleans a lot. It&rsquo;s what my Mom calls &ldquo;My Happy Place&rdquo;. Subsequently, I write about New Orleans a lot. Go with what you know, right? So I figured, having just gotten back from another lovely trip, I&rsquo;d better do my travelogue, but I don&rsquo;t want to get all &lsquo;rhapsodizing&rsquo; this time. More &lsquo;Just the facts&rsquo;. &nbsp;&nbsp; Our place is uptown, a block from St. Charles Avenue, with its picturesque Oaks and the iconic Street Cars rumbling along, just across from the Garden District. The trees and power lines are still festooned with Mardi Gras Beads from March&hellip; &nbsp;&nbsp; Sorry. &lsquo;Festooned&rsquo; is definitely a rhapsodizing word. &nbsp;&nbsp; Anyway, Thursday morning we made our way down to Magazine Street, and found coffee and free wi-fi at Community Coffee. This became a ritual right away, and a good &lsquo;jumping off point&rsquo; for our daily adventures. &nbsp;&nbsp; Another thing that marked this trip was free eats. We enjoyed gifted meals at the Palace Caf&eacute;, thanks to the Sevilla&rsquo;s. The Palace has an Old school N&rsquo;awlin&rsquo;s feel, and to have lunch there is to be surrounded with the cities working business men and women. The service is elegant, the surroundings refined, and the food is wonderful. I described my Pecan Pie as having the ability to &ldquo;drive lesser men to suicide, because life would hold nothing but disappointment from now on.&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp; That was not rhapsodizing. I was just quoting an earlier rhapsodic description. &nbsp;&nbsp; We also had a fabulous meal at Emiril&rsquo;s Delmonico, courtesy of Tim and Patty Onorato . Swanky joint, but the staff had a refreshingly casual feel to the service. The food was good, and the evening felt leisurely and fun. I got the feeling that when you put Emiril&rsquo;s name on a joint, you attract a certain clientele, and raise expectations fairly high. One man across the room got mad and said &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve gotten better service at Olive Garden!&rdquo; I don&rsquo;t know what he was so mad about, but the slower, lingering over your meal service pace may have thrown off someone who&rsquo;s more accustomed to&hellip;well, Olive Garden. &nbsp;&nbsp; Also, beignets were eaten (and powdered sugar spilled), the Blackened Gator Bites at Ralph &amp; Kackoo&rsquo;s are still outstanding, as is the crawfish etouffee. Y&rsquo;know; the staples. &nbsp;&nbsp; Musically, it was a special trip. Thursday night, Eric Lindell was playing a free concert in Lafayette Square. I haven&rsquo;t seen Eric for a while. He just came through the Bay Area a couple of weeks ago, but I was in Vancouver, and the number I had for him wasn&rsquo;t any good. Eric&rsquo;s really, really good. Great singer, great songwriter, and everything&rsquo;s is so smooth and funky. He sounded great, and I got a chance to say &lsquo;howdy&rsquo; and reconnect a little. &nbsp;&nbsp; Friday night my &ldquo;Internet Bassist Forum&rdquo; buddy Peter Fuller had a blues gig at a little neighborhood bar out on the Jefferson Highway, and invited me to come sit in. The band threw solos at me on the first three songs. I&rsquo;m pretty sure I used up all the notes there were to play. &ldquo;Doctor Bob&rdquo;, notable Fender bass collector was there, with a fabulous 7 pound &rsquo;59 P-Bass. Drooled on that a little. &nbsp;&nbsp; Saturday night, I had a gig with Sweet Jones at Checkpoint Charlie&rsquo;s on Esplanade! Some of you may remember them from the story about Jon, my friend in Holland, emailing me that a guy from New Orleans on his Tele Forum needed a rhythm section in San Jose. Matt and Melissa are the sweetest people you could meet, and they gave me the gig right away when I said I was coming to town. So I had my rig thanks to Peter lending me all kinds of stuff, and I had a great time! Matt is a hell of a guitarist. &nbsp;&nbsp; So in the last couple of months I&rsquo;ve had the pleasure of going to Nashville to play country, and going to New Orleans to play blues. The fact that I represented myself very well in both settings is kind of an ego boost. &nbsp;&nbsp; Sunday was all about Mark Johnson, my guitar slinging buddy who quit California temperate climes to become the best guitarist in Hammond. The adjustment has had its rocky patches, but I tried to encourage Mark to see the big picture; you&rsquo;re playing guitar five nights a week, and you&rsquo;re considered something of a celebrity. Beats working construction! We had a great time running around the Quarter with Mark and his friend Katie, who was pretty funny too, so she fit right in. &nbsp;&nbsp; Bourbon Street; ever been? If you have you&rsquo;ll understand what I&rsquo;m about to say; Bourbon Street is where music goes to die. That may seem strange in a Mecca like New Orleans, but when the sun goes down, all the bad, soul-sucking &lsquo;classic rock&rsquo; bands take over and the street is awash in &ldquo;Sweet Home Alabama&rdquo; and &ldquo;Play That Funky Music Whiteboy&rdquo;. Sure, it&rsquo;s also got strippers. A lot of strippers, in fact. But if you want to hear music, head out of the Quarter, across Esplanade into the Marigny Triangle, and go down Frenchmen Street. Tons of clubs playing the music you came to New Orleans for. &nbsp;&nbsp; Coming home is always hard. Closing up the condo, and taking the shuttle to the airport, just to make your way through security just seems so depressing. So imagine my surprise when, as we stood in line to board our flight, the gate agent came over and asked if I could do him a favor by jumping to the front of the line, and boarding first &ldquo;so you can get your guitar situated&rdquo;. He moved Cindy and I to the front of the line BECAUSE I had a bass guitar! I don&rsquo;t know if it was a Southwest thing, that certain gate agent, or maybe just a New Orleans thing. Probably a combination of all three, because I don&rsquo;t see it happening anywhere else. Just New Orleans.
   Our place is uptown, a block from St. Charles Avenue, with its picturesque Oaks and the iconic Street Cars rumbling along, just across from the Garden District. The trees and power lines are still festooned with Mardi Gras Beads from March…

   Sorry. ‘Festooned’ is definitely a rhapsodizing word.

   Anyway, Thursday morning we made our way down to Magazine Street, and found coffee and free wi-fi at Community Coffee. This became a ritual right away, and a good ‘jumping off point’ for our daily adventures.

   Another thing that marked this trip was free eats. We enjoyed gifted meals at the Palace Café, thanks to the Sevilla’s. The Palace has an Old school N’awlin’s feel, and to have lunch there is to be surrounded with the cities working business men and women. The service is elegant, the surroundings refined, and the food is wonderful. I described my Pecan Pie as having the ability to “drive lesser men to suicide, because life would hold nothing but disappointment from now on.”

   That was not rhapsodizing. I was just quoting an earlier rhapsodic description.

   We also had a fabulous meal at Emiril’s Delmonico, courtesy of Tim and Patty Onorato . Swanky joint, but the staff had a refreshingly casual feel to the service. The food was good, and the evening felt leisurely and fun. I got the feeling that when you put Emiril’s name on a joint, you attract a certain clientele, and raise expectations fairly high. One man across the room got mad and said “I’ve gotten better service at Olive Garden!” I don’t know what he was so mad about, but the slower, lingering over your meal service pace may have thrown off someone who’s more accustomed to…well, Olive Garden.

   Also, beignets were eaten (and powdered sugar spilled), the Blackened Gator Bites at Ralph & Kackoo’s are still outstanding, as is the crawfish etouffee. Y’know; the staples.

   Musically, it was a special trip. Thursday night, Eric Lindell was playing a free concert in Lafayette Square. I haven’t seen Eric for a while. He just came through the Bay Area a couple of weeks ago, but I was in Vancouver, and the number I had for him wasn’t any good. Eric’s really, really good. Great singer, great songwriter, and everything’s is so smooth and funky. He sounded great, and I got a chance to say ‘howdy’ and reconnect a little.

   Friday night my “Internet Bassist Forum” buddy Peter Fuller had a blues gig at a little neighborhood bar out on the Jefferson Highway, and invited me to come sit in. The band threw solos at me on the first three songs. I’m pretty sure I used up all the notes there were to play. “Doctor Bob”, notable Fender bass collector was there, with a fabulous 7 pound ’59 P-Bass. Drooled on that a little.

   Saturday night, I had a gig with Sweet Jones at Checkpoint Charlie’s on Esplanade! Some of you may remember them from the story about Jon, my friend in Holland, emailing me that a guy from New Orleans on his Tele Forum needed a rhythm section in San Jose. Matt and Melissa are the sweetest people you could meet, and they gave me the gig right away when I said I was coming to town. So I had my rig thanks to Peter lending me all kinds of stuff, and I had a great time! Matt is a hell of a guitarist.

   So in the last couple of months I’ve had the pleasure of going to Nashville to play country, and going to New Orleans to play blues. The fact that I represented myself very well in both settings is kind of an ego boost.

   Sunday was all about Mark Johnson, my guitar slinging buddy who quit California temperate climes to become the best guitarist in Hammond. The adjustment has had its rocky patches, but I tried to encourage Mark to see the big picture; you’re playing guitar five nights a week, and you’re considered something of a celebrity. Beats working construction! We had a great time running around the Quarter with Mark and his friend Katie, who was pretty funny too, so she fit right in.

   Bourbon Street; ever been? If you have you’ll understand what I’m about to say; Bourbon Street is where music goes to die. That may seem strange in a Mecca like New Orleans, but when the sun goes down, all the bad, soul-sucking ‘classic rock’ bands take over and the street is awash in “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Play That Funky Music Whiteboy”. Sure, it’s also got strippers. A lot of strippers, in fact. But if you want to hear music, head out of the Quarter, across Esplanade into the Marigny Triangle, and go down Frenchmen Street. Tons of clubs playing the music you came to New Orleans for.

   Coming home is always hard. Closing up the condo, and taking the shuttle to the airport, just to make your way through security just seems so depressing. So imagine my surprise when, as we stood in line to board our flight, the gate agent came over and asked if I could do him a favor by jumping to the front of the line, and boarding first “so you can get your guitar situated”. He moved Cindy and I to the front of the line BECAUSE I had a bass guitar! I don’t know if it was a Southwest thing, that certain gate agent, or maybe just a New Orleans thing. Probably a combination of all three, because I don’t see it happening anywhere else. Just New Orleans.

]]> Fri, 25 Sep 2009 06:34:19 GMT B702B12FA0D8327CC30DC2D8ED43F442 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=78408 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sunday morning, bright and early, breakfast at the hotel, then on the road we go. All together, we number nine. There&rsquo;s me, Terri and Suze; the &ldquo;Sisters&rdquo;, Ronnie on drums, Robert on tenor, Mike Tooley on trombone, and Jay Thomas on &ndash; get this &ndash; alto sax and trumpet. Rounding out the caravan are Mike and Jay&rsquo;s wives. All together, four vehicles, three GPS units, four horns for three horn players, and a couple of fishing poles thrown in just for good measure. Quite the caravan. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Saying &ldquo;we made our way across the Trans Canada Highway&rdquo; sounds pretty straight forward. &ldquo;Trans Canada Highway&rdquo; would seem to imply a big, multi-lane ribbon of concrete hewn from the very rocks of the mountains themselves, but any quick glance at a map will show a long, winding road through beautiful mountains and forest. A little Northeast, a little Southeast, repeat for a couple hundred miles, jump on Highway 97, and head South for Lake Osoyoos and the U.S. &ndash; Canadian border. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; One last border crossing, this time from Canada back to the States. Pretty much just a &lsquo;drive through&rsquo;. The officer, who was wearing shorts (&lsquo;Casual Sunday&rsquo; for border guards?), did ask us if any of us had ever been arrested. Umm, yeah. Why? Are you going to deny us entrance to our home country because of some dusty offences? Why ask when you&rsquo;ve got our entire records there on the screen in front of you? &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Not that we asked. Border Guards are chosen, and famous for being unencumbered by a sense of humor. So it&rsquo;s best to smile, be polite, answer all the questions, and take nothing personally. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The Rendezvous R&amp;B Festival is held in a huge Apple Orchard right on the shore of Lake Osoyoos. It&rsquo;s not a giant festival, but it&rsquo;s been going on for a while. People camp in the orchard for the whole weekend, and come out to listen to music, dance, and party. We were right in the middle of Sunday&rsquo;s bill, third of five bands. We caught the end of Alice Stuart&rsquo;s solo set, and watched the Stacey Jones Band. Unfortunately, we also watched some huge, dark clouds rolling towards the lake, and just as the band was finishing their set, the skies opened up and it started Raining with a capital R. The stage was getting soaked, the canopy over the stage was filling with water, and then the lightening started. We had no choice but to abandon the stage and run for cover. It rained, thundered and lightening-ed solid for about a half an hour, while we huddled under a tarp between a couple of motor homes with some festival attendees. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; After the deluge, we convened on the stage to figure out a course of action. The stage had to be swept of water, one corner of the overhead canopy was lowered and the huge puddle was drained off, and there looked like there might be a chance to actually play. The problem was that weather reports showed a bigger storm rolling in behind the one we had. But this is, after all, the Pacific Northwest, and the locals are pretty used to a little rain. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; So, the show must go on! We&rsquo;d play until we got rained out. So after another hectic half hour set up, we finally hit the stage. It was fun to watch the people come wandering out of the orchard as we started making noise, and by the time we started really playing the field was getting filled up again. Or scheduled two hour set became a one hour set, but like I figured, third day of our three day tour, the band was really tight, and absolutely on. The crowd was digging it, and we were too. The weather must have liked us too, because that second storm never did come in. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I&rsquo;m really glad we got to play on Sunday, because otherwise it would have been a very anti-climactic end to the weekend. It would have felt like unfinished business. Plus, the show was so much fun, everyone smiling and having a good time on stage and out front. A Love-Fest, really. Even the ducks came out of the lake and ambled up to the Hamburger shack to see what all the hub-bub was about. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; After our set, we hung around and watched Cee Cee James channel her (and our) inner Janis, and saw Becky Sue and Her Big Rockin&rsquo; Daddies! Bring the curtain down on the 9th Annual Rendezvous Festival. The Seattle blues scene, at least what I saw of it from the inside, is large, supportive of each other, and very healthy. I&rsquo;m sure someone&rsquo;s writing bad stuff about the scene on Craig&rsquo;s list somewhere, but the people I met were too busy hanging out together to mind. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Because the local motel, as the promoter put, looked too much like a Meth Lab, we had to make our way down the road to&hellip;wait, I have to look this up to spell it right&hellip;Tonasket, and the Apple Barrel Inn. Now, there&rsquo;s probably 147 &ldquo;Apple Barrel&rdquo; motels of one kind or another in Washington, but ours took a great deal of abuse from our entourage. I would just like to point out that while we just slept and left, the room did have a small fridge and a microwave, working TV, and, umm, &lsquo;Vintage&rsquo; furnishings. It also had one of the best Motel showers I&rsquo;ve ever come across; lots of pressure and a shower head that wasn&rsquo;t pointed at my chest. As for the room&rsquo;s artwork &ndash; a &lsquo;Cowboy&rdquo; scene painted directly on the cinder-block wall, I found it a little more thoughtful than the standard &ldquo;Art Sale&rdquo; fare you become accustomed to. Not that I&rsquo;d have the same on my wall at home, mind you, but I thought it displayed a certain sense of Western individuality. That&rsquo;s my story, and I&rsquo;m stickin&rsquo; to it. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Monday started with a display of Tonasket hospitality. I wandered down the street to the supermarket for a cup of coffee, and the girl at the bakery counter couldn&rsquo;t have been nicer, showing me how to use a coffee machine (Duh!), and then when I went to the check out to pay, the lady there said &ldquo;Is all you have the coffee? Oh, well, it&rsquo;s free today. Some days, it&rsquo;s just free.&rdquo; Free coffee? I love this place! The breakfast joint was equally as friendly, and made for a great start to a lazy day of making our way back to Seattle. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The trip involved a stop at a Wal*Mart Supercenter, that I believe had its own subway system, it was so big. Suze and Terri got Fishing Licenses, and geared up for some angling, so the drive was broken up by &ldquo;Does this look like a good spot&rdquo;, and breaks for throwing things in the water, as 97 follows the river. We stopped for coffee in the hilarious town of Leavenworth, where their so into the whole &ldquo;Bavarian Village&rdquo; thing, that there&rsquo;s a city ordinance that all businesses must use the same type face. So you have Bank of America, Chase bank, and even Starbucks displayed in a goofy, fairy tale, &ldquo;Swiss Miss&rdquo; font. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Tuesday morning, and I was back at SeaTac for the flight home. Glad to be going home, but sad to be leaving. There&rsquo;s talk of some Red Hot Blues Sisters road work in the future, and I&rsquo;ve already let them now I&rsquo;m down for it! I&rsquo;ll be appearing with them on October 10th in Grants Pass, Oregon, and looking forward to it. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Today, it&rsquo;s time to pack. Cindy and I leave for New Orleans in the morning. A week of recalibrating our internal clocks to Southern rhythms. After we booked the trip, I checked on some of my friends schedules, and it just so happens that &ldquo;Sweet Jones&rdquo; could use a bassist for this Saturday, the 19th, show at Checkpoint Charlie&rsquo;s on Esplanade. See you there at 11PM! If you can&rsquo;t make it, I&rsquo;ll tell you all about it.
    Saying “we made our way across the Trans Canada Highway” sounds pretty straight forward. “Trans Canada Highway” would seem to imply a big, multi-lane ribbon of concrete hewn from the very rocks of the mountains themselves, but any quick glance at a map will show a long, winding road through beautiful mountains and forest. A little Northeast, a little Southeast, repeat for a couple hundred miles, jump on Highway 97, and head South for Lake Osoyoos and the U.S. – Canadian border.

    One last border crossing, this time from Canada back to the States. Pretty much just a ‘drive through’. The officer, who was wearing shorts (‘Casual Sunday’ for border guards?), did ask us if any of us had ever been arrested. Umm, yeah. Why? Are you going to deny us entrance to our home country because of some dusty offences? Why ask when you’ve got our entire records there on the screen in front of you?

    Not that we asked. Border Guards are chosen, and famous for being unencumbered by a sense of humor. So it’s best to smile, be polite, answer all the questions, and take nothing personally.

    The Rendezvous R&B Festival is held in a huge Apple Orchard right on the shore of Lake Osoyoos. It’s not a giant festival, but it’s been going on for a while. People camp in the orchard for the whole weekend, and come out to listen to music, dance, and party. We were right in the middle of Sunday’s bill, third of five bands. We caught the end of Alice Stuart’s solo set, and watched the Stacey Jones Band. Unfortunately, we also watched some huge, dark clouds rolling towards the lake, and just as the band was finishing their set, the skies opened up and it started Raining with a capital R. The stage was getting soaked, the canopy over the stage was filling with water, and then the lightening started. We had no choice but to abandon the stage and run for cover. It rained, thundered and lightening-ed solid for about a half an hour, while we huddled under a tarp between a couple of motor homes with some festival attendees.

    After the deluge, we convened on the stage to figure out a course of action. The stage had to be swept of water, one corner of the overhead canopy was lowered and the huge puddle was drained off, and there looked like there might be a chance to actually play. The problem was that weather reports showed a bigger storm rolling in behind the one we had. But this is, after all, the Pacific Northwest, and the locals are pretty used to a little rain.

    So, the show must go on! We’d play until we got rained out. So after another hectic half hour set up, we finally hit the stage. It was fun to watch the people come wandering out of the orchard as we started making noise, and by the time we started really playing the field was getting filled up again. Or scheduled two hour set became a one hour set, but like I figured, third day of our three day tour, the band was really tight, and absolutely on. The crowd was digging it, and we were too. The weather must have liked us too, because that second storm never did come in.

    I’m really glad we got to play on Sunday, because otherwise it would have been a very anti-climactic end to the weekend. It would have felt like unfinished business. Plus, the show was so much fun, everyone smiling and having a good time on stage and out front. A Love-Fest, really. Even the ducks came out of the lake and ambled up to the Hamburger shack to see what all the hub-bub was about.

    After our set, we hung around and watched Cee Cee James channel her (and our) inner Janis, and saw Becky Sue and Her Big Rockin’ Daddies! Bring the curtain down on the 9th Annual Rendezvous Festival. The Seattle blues scene, at least what I saw of it from the inside, is large, supportive of each other, and very healthy. I’m sure someone’s writing bad stuff about the scene on Craig’s list somewhere, but the people I met were too busy hanging out together to mind.

    Because the local motel, as the promoter put, looked too much like a Meth Lab, we had to make our way down the road to…wait, I have to look this up to spell it right…Tonasket, and the Apple Barrel Inn. Now, there’s probably 147 “Apple Barrel” motels of one kind or another in Washington, but ours took a great deal of abuse from our entourage. I would just like to point out that while we just slept and left, the room did have a small fridge and a microwave, working TV, and, umm, ‘Vintage’ furnishings. It also had one of the best Motel showers I’ve ever come across; lots of pressure and a shower head that wasn’t pointed at my chest. As for the room’s artwork – a ‘Cowboy” scene painted directly on the cinder-block wall, I found it a little more thoughtful than the standard “Art Sale” fare you become accustomed to. Not that I’d have the same on my wall at home, mind you, but I thought it displayed a certain sense of Western individuality. That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

    Monday started with a display of Tonasket hospitality. I wandered down the street to the supermarket for a cup of coffee, and the girl at the bakery counter couldn’t have been nicer, showing me how to use a coffee machine (Duh!), and then when I went to the check out to pay, the lady there said “Is all you have the coffee? Oh, well, it’s free today. Some days, it’s just free.” Free coffee? I love this place! The breakfast joint was equally as friendly, and made for a great start to a lazy day of making our way back to Seattle.

    The trip involved a stop at a Wal*Mart Supercenter, that I believe had its own subway system, it was so big. Suze and Terri got Fishing Licenses, and geared up for some angling, so the drive was broken up by “Does this look like a good spot”, and breaks for throwing things in the water, as 97 follows the river. We stopped for coffee in the hilarious town of Leavenworth, where their so into the whole “Bavarian Village” thing, that there’s a city ordinance that all businesses must use the same type face. So you have Bank of America, Chase bank, and even Starbucks displayed in a goofy, fairy tale, “Swiss Miss” font.

    Tuesday morning, and I was back at SeaTac for the flight home. Glad to be going home, but sad to be leaving. There’s talk of some Red Hot Blues Sisters road work in the future, and I’ve already let them now I’m down for it! I’ll be appearing with them on October 10th in Grants Pass, Oregon, and looking forward to it.

    Today, it’s time to pack. Cindy and I leave for New Orleans in the morning. A week of recalibrating our internal clocks to Southern rhythms. After we booked the trip, I checked on some of my friends schedules, and it just so happens that “Sweet Jones” could use a bassist for this Saturday, the 19th, show at Checkpoint Charlie’s on Esplanade. See you there at 11PM! If you can’t make it, I’ll tell you all about it.

]]> Tue, 15 Sep 2009 21:07:21 GMT 48152059CD93DF8A4864036E787D042E http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=77312 Saturday morning, and I had a full day to goof off and see Vancouver. Up and out at about ten o&rsquo;clock, down to the main drag, turn left and explore. Some places along Granville Avenue look like a movie set from some Bowery Bums flick; old school seedy. Quarter Peep Shows, clothing stores, and McDonald&rsquo;s &ndash; the Canadian McDonald&rsquo;s with the little red Maple Leaf in the middle of the Golden Arches &ndash; all vie for what will be prime real estate when the Winter Olympics start up early next year. Construction is everywhere. The huge Tom Lee Music Store wasn&rsquo;t quite open when I went by the first time. I walked until I ran into water. Well, not literally; I would have had to make my way across a cruise ship the size of Emeryville. The port, the new Convention Center complex, and the attractive Port Walk with the historic plaques full of stories of local color, good and bad, really add to this city&rsquo;s beauty. To stand and watch a seaplane arc out of the sky and skim down on the bay gave that kid-type thrill you don&rsquo;t get too often. Vancouver, like San Francisco and New Orleans, is surrounded by water, and so is geographically limited. As I walked back to the other end, it&rsquo;s clear that the high rise apartment building is King here. There&rsquo;s a huge marina, some beautiful parks, and a ton of balconied apartments overlooking it all. There&rsquo;s a whole walkway along the shore, and it felt like you could walk around the whole peninsula. I found a very cool AIDS memorial, made up of large metal plates, with the names of the fallen cut out. People had left flowers and ribbons in the cut out names of their loved ones. It reminded me a lot of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in D.C., the most amazing public memorial I&rsquo;ve ever seen. After a little more strolling around, I went back to my room, and Robert had left, but had made Hotel Room Coffee. This brought the rest of my Cup o&rsquo; Soup memory back into focus; I was definitely in the right hotel, and it wasn&rsquo;t a microwave. I had heated water in the coffee pot for my soup! Road Resourcefulness. As it happens, the Yale hosts a blues jam every Saturday afternoon, and I decided to go check out the local talent. Ronnie, our drummer was there, and we hung out and he convinced me to sign up. He was a little put off by the guy running the jam. It seems that he was also the drummer from the late band the night before, and when Ronnie tried to give the guy a little respect, he got blown off. We watched the jammers, obviously, most if not all were regulars. I watched one bass player get up and play three times. As we got closer to the end of jam, Jam Boss comes over and tries to figure out if we&rsquo;re worthy of a slot. He looks me in the eye and says &ldquo;Well, I dunno&hellip;are you any good?&rdquo; Yeah. I&rsquo;m pretty good. Ronnie and I got up feeling like we had something to prove, and we just burned! I don&rsquo;t even remember what we played, or much about who we played with, but we brought it. The drummer who ran the thing was gone before we got off the stage. Two hours later we were back on the same stage with the band, and we played much, much better. Ronnie and I had a little more time working together, we had had a chance to go over rough spots from the night before, and playing the songs a second time in two days gave everything a more solid feel. Another big crowd, a perpetually full dance floor, and a fine time was had by all. In fact, a bunch of videos can be found on YouTube, if you search &ldquo;Red Hot Blues Sisters&rdquo;. Great night! A friend from BABP, a bass player forum I frequent, who lives outside of Vancouver came and brought his wife and some friends. Meeting &ldquo;Internet Friends&rdquo; in real life is always a treat. Sometimes after the gig, when you think it might be fun to hang around and bask in the afterglow, the whole mood in the club can shift. Saturday night was one of those nights, and pretty soon a girl who had too much to drink was yelling and fighting with a guy who &ndash; surprise surprise &ndash; was trying to leave her. I know, right? Weird. We had an early lobby call anyway, to make our way across the Trans Canada Highway to the next day&rsquo;s festival in Oroville, Washington. Wherever that was. A couple of uncategorized Vancouver facts; evidently, the city is home to the most extensive Saxophone shop in the western hemisphere. Robert and Jay spent a lot of time there. The restaurant at the Quality Inn is not the best place to eat. We had breakfast, and the buffet was $15. Menu items included Salsa, for $2.65, and Slice of Cheese, $3.25. The place to eat is The White Spot. A little pricey, but really, really good food. So much for the travelogue! Part Three coming soon.
I walked until I ran into water. Well, not literally; I would have had to make my way across a cruise ship the size of Emeryville. The port, the new Convention Center complex, and the attractive Port Walk with the historic plaques full of stories of local color, good and bad, really add to this city’s beauty. To stand and watch a seaplane arc out of the sky and skim down on the bay gave that kid-type thrill you don’t get too often.

Vancouver, like San Francisco and New Orleans, is surrounded by water, and so is geographically limited. As I walked back to the other end, it’s clear that the high rise apartment building is King here. There’s a huge marina, some beautiful parks, and a ton of balconied apartments overlooking it all. There’s a whole walkway along the shore, and it felt like you could walk around the whole peninsula. I found a very cool AIDS memorial, made up of large metal plates, with the names of the fallen cut out. People had left flowers and ribbons in the cut out names of their loved ones. It reminded me a lot of the Vietnam Memorial Wall in D.C., the most amazing public memorial I’ve ever seen.

After a little more strolling around, I went back to my room, and Robert had left, but had made Hotel Room Coffee. This brought the rest of my Cup o’ Soup memory back into focus; I was definitely in the right hotel, and it wasn’t a microwave. I had heated water in the coffee pot for my soup! Road Resourcefulness.

As it happens, the Yale hosts a blues jam every Saturday afternoon, and I decided to go check out the local talent. Ronnie, our drummer was there, and we hung out and he convinced me to sign up. He was a little put off by the guy running the jam. It seems that he was also the drummer from the late band the night before, and when Ronnie tried to give the guy a little respect, he got blown off. We watched the jammers, obviously, most if not all were regulars. I watched one bass player get up and play three times. As we got closer to the end of jam, Jam Boss comes over and tries to figure out if we’re worthy of a slot. He looks me in the eye and says “Well, I dunno…are you any good?” Yeah. I’m pretty good. Ronnie and I got up feeling like we had something to prove, and we just burned! I don’t even remember what we played, or much about who we played with, but we brought it. The drummer who ran the thing was gone before we got off the stage.

Two hours later we were back on the same stage with the band, and we played much, much better. Ronnie and I had a little more time working together, we had had a chance to go over rough spots from the night before, and playing the songs a second time in two days gave everything a more solid feel. Another big crowd, a perpetually full dance floor, and a fine time was had by all. In fact, a bunch of videos can be found on YouTube, if you search “Red Hot Blues Sisters”. Great night! A friend from BABP, a bass player forum I frequent, who lives outside of Vancouver came and brought his wife and some friends. Meeting “Internet Friends” in real life is always a treat. Sometimes after the gig, when you think it might be fun to hang around and bask in the afterglow, the whole mood in the club can shift. Saturday night was one of those nights, and pretty soon a girl who had too much to drink was yelling and fighting with a guy who – surprise surprise – was trying to leave her. I know, right? Weird. We had an early lobby call anyway, to make our way across the Trans Canada Highway to the next day’s festival in Oroville, Washington. Wherever that was.

A couple of uncategorized Vancouver facts; evidently, the city is home to the most extensive Saxophone shop in the western hemisphere. Robert and Jay spent a lot of time there. The restaurant at the Quality Inn is not the best place to eat. We had breakfast, and the buffet was $15. Menu items included Salsa, for $2.65, and Slice of Cheese, $3.25. The place to eat is The White Spot. A little pricey, but really, really good food. So much for the travelogue!

Part Three coming soon.

]]> Sun, 13 Sep 2009 22:20:01 GMT 043D588F7CFEE3AB4292AC6015B68C00 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=76709 &nbsp;&nbsp; I once wrote that being on tour was like Jean-Paul Sartre&rsquo;s &ldquo;No Exit&rdquo;. Of course, that was a couple of years ago, and despite being proud of tossing around literary allusions like Gatsby&rsquo;s shirts, (ahem), I was referring to a rather specific set of circumstances. &nbsp;&nbsp; Those circumstances don&rsquo;t need to be recounted here, though, because this story is about spending time playing music with a great band, and more importantly, great people. I first met The Red Hot Blues Sisters on a trip to Seattle, and we hung out, jammed, and they took me to some crazy, middle of the night diner. All &lsquo;golden&rsquo; to musicians! We&rsquo;ve kept in touch, and I&rsquo;ve been waiting for the day when I&rsquo;d actually get an opportunity to work with them. &nbsp;&nbsp; That opportunity happened this last weekend, when they flew me up to Seattle, allowed me to stay in their home, and took me along for a long weekend of gigs. I can&rsquo;t tell you how much I was looking forward to this trip. Going places to play music for people that want to hear it is the best single thing to do, musically. Doing that with people you like and admire is huge. &nbsp;&nbsp; The weekend started bright and early&hellip;okay, more like sleepy and early, Thursday morning at Oakland Airport. The tall guy with the sax was obviously my travelling companion, Robert Zuckerman. Robert plays with Cold Blood, so we have some mutual friends, and was part of the whole weekend. Suze picked us up at the airport, and we got a quick tour of the radio station&hellip;actually the five radio stations under one roof, she works for. Then Robert and I we&rsquo;re left to fend for ourselves in downtown Seattle for the afternoon. &nbsp;&nbsp; Seattle is a great city, very similar in feel to San Francisco, with a lot of hills, surrounded by water. One other thing; the clich&eacute;s are true, there literally IS a Starbucks on every block, and the lines in all of them were five or six people deep. The Raiders were in town for a pre-season game, but Raider Nation was vastly outnumbered by the LSU fans - decked out in Purple and Gold, handing out beads &ndash; in town for a game against UW. &nbsp;&nbsp; Thursday night we had a quick rehearsal, and Saturday we headed for the border. Now, I&rsquo;ve had a couple of occasions to cross the US &ndash; Canada border with a band a couple few times, and whether it&rsquo;s because of the new guy who lives on Pennsylvania Avenue, or maybe just a&hellip;better class of people crossing this time, I&rsquo;ve never had an easier time with Canadian officials. Not quite warm n&rsquo; fuzzy, but efficient, and almost&hellip;friendly. In any case, the whole thing was quick and easy, and we were headed for Vancouver. &nbsp;&nbsp; And we would have made it quickly and easily, if Canada hadn&rsquo;t decided to close one lane, and have all the in-flowing Friday-of-a-three-day-weekend traffic go from four lanes to one. Huge traffic jam. Eh. But no matter, after a bit we were in Vancouver, and checking into our hotel. The nice thing about this club, The Yale Hotel (which I&rsquo;ve played before), is that the hotel is a block away. I had this vivid memory of the last time I was here; after the gig, I went to the 7/11 across the street, and got a Cup o&rsquo; Soup, which, as I recalled, I heated in the room&rsquo;s microwave, and it was the perfect after gig snack. But my room didn&rsquo;t have a microwave, so how could that be? Was this even the right hotel? Weird. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Yale is an institution. It&rsquo;s been a blues club for decades, and anybody who&rsquo;s anybody has played there. Even me! The club has its own bass amp, and&hellip; &nbsp; Sidebar; how brilliant is this idea? I&rsquo;ve always felt that a club should have at least a basic backline in place. It makes for a quicker set up, it means your soundman gets used to how things will sound night to night, and at the end of the night, no gear to move. Unplug and walk. &nbsp;&nbsp; So, the bass amp is a big old behemoth 2x15 cab with a GK 800RB head. Old, ugly, and perfect. &nbsp;&nbsp; I won&rsquo;t lie about Friday nights gig; we didn&rsquo;t exactly play great. Oh, we were good, but without trying to make excuses, I&rsquo;d never played with the drummer, outside of our one rehearsal I&rsquo;d never played with the band. Tempos were sketchy, feels were questionable, and cues were missed. The first set, heavy on originals, was tentative. The second set, full of R&amp;B standards, went better. The crowd was great all the way around. The club was full, and the party was on. &nbsp;&nbsp; After the set. I hung out for a bit and watched the late-night band (we finished at midnight, and then a local band plays from 12:30 to 3:00AM), but it was too &ldquo;Blues Rock&rdquo; Cabaret for me. When the drummer started &ldquo;rapping&rdquo; during Bill Withers &ldquo;Use Me&rdquo; &ndash; which they introduced as a Al Green tune, insert eye-roll here &ndash; I headed for the Quality Inn. &nbsp;&nbsp; A bunch of us gathered in Terri and Suze&rsquo;s room for some late night goofing off, and the hanging out and laughing took away any lingering bad feelings from our perceived shortcomings on the bandstand. Saturday would be better. Part Two Coming Very Soon!
   Those circumstances don’t need to be recounted here, though, because this story is about spending time playing music with a great band, and more importantly, great people. I first met The Red Hot Blues Sisters on a trip to Seattle, and we hung out, jammed, and they took me to some crazy, middle of the night diner. All ‘golden’ to musicians! We’ve kept in touch, and I’ve been waiting for the day when I’d actually get an opportunity to work with them.

   That opportunity happened this last weekend, when they flew me up to Seattle, allowed me to stay in their home, and took me along for a long weekend of gigs. I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to this trip. Going places to play music for people that want to hear it is the best single thing to do, musically. Doing that with people you like and admire is huge.

   The weekend started bright and early…okay, more like sleepy and early, Thursday morning at Oakland Airport. The tall guy with the sax was obviously my travelling companion, Robert Zuckerman. Robert plays with Cold Blood, so we have some mutual friends, and was part of the whole weekend. Suze picked us up at the airport, and we got a quick tour of the radio station…actually the five radio stations under one roof, she works for. Then Robert and I we’re left to fend for ourselves in downtown Seattle for the afternoon.

   Seattle is a great city, very similar in feel to San Francisco, with a lot of hills, surrounded by water. One other thing; the clichés are true, there literally IS a Starbucks on every block, and the lines in all of them were five or six people deep. The Raiders were in town for a pre-season game, but Raider Nation was vastly outnumbered by the LSU fans - decked out in Purple and Gold, handing out beads – in town for a game against UW.

   Thursday night we had a quick rehearsal, and Saturday we headed for the border. Now, I’ve had a couple of occasions to cross the US – Canada border with a band a couple few times, and whether it’s because of the new guy who lives on Pennsylvania Avenue, or maybe just a…better class of people crossing this time, I’ve never had an easier time with Canadian officials. Not quite warm n’ fuzzy, but efficient, and almost…friendly. In any case, the whole thing was quick and easy, and we were headed for Vancouver.

   And we would have made it quickly and easily, if Canada hadn’t decided to close one lane, and have all the in-flowing Friday-of-a-three-day-weekend traffic go from four lanes to one. Huge traffic jam. Eh. But no matter, after a bit we were in Vancouver, and checking into our hotel. The nice thing about this club, The Yale Hotel (which I’ve played before), is that the hotel is a block away. I had this vivid memory of the last time I was here; after the gig, I went to the 7/11 across the street, and got a Cup o’ Soup, which, as I recalled, I heated in the room’s microwave, and it was the perfect after gig snack. But my room didn’t have a microwave, so how could that be? Was this even the right hotel? Weird.

   The Yale is an institution. It’s been a blues club for decades, and anybody who’s anybody has played there. Even me! The club has its own bass amp, and…

  Sidebar; how brilliant is this idea? I’ve always felt that a club should have at least a basic backline in place. It makes for a quicker set up, it means your soundman gets used to how things will sound night to night, and at the end of the night, no gear to move. Unplug and walk.

   So, the bass amp is a big old behemoth 2x15 cab with a GK 800RB head. Old, ugly, and perfect.

   I won’t lie about Friday nights gig; we didn’t exactly play great. Oh, we were good, but without trying to make excuses, I’d never played with the drummer, outside of our one rehearsal I’d never played with the band. Tempos were sketchy, feels were questionable, and cues were missed. The first set, heavy on originals, was tentative. The second set, full of R&B standards, went better. The crowd was great all the way around. The club was full, and the party was on.

   After the set. I hung out for a bit and watched the late-night band (we finished at midnight, and then a local band plays from 12:30 to 3:00AM), but it was too “Blues Rock” Cabaret for me. When the drummer started “rapping” during Bill Withers “Use Me” – which they introduced as a Al Green tune, insert eye-roll here – I headed for the Quality Inn.

   A bunch of us gathered in Terri and Suze’s room for some late night goofing off, and the hanging out and laughing took away any lingering bad feelings from our perceived shortcomings on the bandstand. Saturday would be better.

Part Two Coming Very Soon!


]]> Sat, 12 Sep 2009 12:31:42 GMT A6E10DA1408A74C83A7754B5BF46A672 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=69729 My latest entry for the Good stuff Guitars Newsletter: A couple of years ago, I got free Bass Strings all the time. It wasn&rsquo;t me, really. I didn&rsquo;t have an endorsement deal, but the guy I worked for did. He didn&rsquo;t play bass or guitar, but a big name company gave him strings all the same. See, he had a very famous name, and when he was on his way into the Grammys one year, a representative from Big Name Stings signed him on the spot to a string endorsement deal. So, while I played for him, I got free bass strings. The best part of free bass strings was&hellip;well&hellip;free bass strings. The downside was that I only got Big Name String companies strings. Fortunately, I found some they made that worked really well for the gig, so it worked out. Bass strings are the kind of thing a veteran bass player takes for granted. We find which string goes with which bass &ndash; because they might all be different &ndash; and use what gives us the sound we want in our head. Younger players might not have ever thought about the differences in types of string, or how they could affect their tone and feel. Here&rsquo;s the ten-cent primer; in general there are two basic types; roundwound and flatwound. A string is made from a couple pieces of wire; a main wire, or core. This is usually round or hexagonal, then another wire is wrapped around the core. This wire can be either round, or flat. If your outer wrap is stainless steel round, your tone will be zingy, and high end. At the other end of the spectrum, a nickel flat wound will be all about thump and boom. There are other variations, like half, or ground wound, with straddles the line between round and flat, nylon wrap, gold wrap, bronze acoustic bass guitar strings, and nylon core, all different specialty strings. I generally prefer a flat wound string, but I use different strings on different basses. The bass will tell you what it wants. Bass strings can run fairly expensive, especially compared to cheap, scrawny guitar strings, but changing strings is the cheapest way to modify the sound of your bass. The other great thing about getting free strings was this; I like to leave strings on my bass for&hellip;ever. I like the tone once it mellows and settles. When I&rsquo;d get a box of strings from Big Name Strings, I&rsquo;d get six sets, which generally meant I&rsquo;d use a couple of sets, and give the others away to bassists I&rsquo;d meet! It worked out great, because handing out bass strings makes friends really quickly. Recently, I sent Big Name Strings a letter, and told them who I was, what I did, what I liked about their strings, and asked if they might send me a half dozen sets a year, for me to use and give away, like I used to do. I got a letter back saying that their endorsement roles were full &ndash; of guys who don&rsquo;t play, like my old boss, I guess &ndash; so no strings for me. Thus, &lsquo;the names have been changed to protect the&hellip;&rdquo;, cheap, Big Name String guys, I guess.

A couple of years ago, I got free Bass Strings all the time.

It wasn’t me, really. I didn’t have an endorsement deal, but the guy I worked for did. He didn’t play bass or guitar, but a big name company gave him strings all the same. See, he had a very famous name, and when he was on his way into the Grammys one year, a representative from Big Name Stings signed him on the spot to a string endorsement deal.

So, while I played for him, I got free bass strings.

The best part of free bass strings was…well…free bass strings. The downside was that I only got Big Name String companies strings. Fortunately, I found some they made that worked really well for the gig, so it worked out.

Bass strings are the kind of thing a veteran bass player takes for granted. We find which string goes with which bass – because they might all be different – and use what gives us the sound we want in our head. Younger players might not have ever thought about the differences in types of string, or how they could affect their tone and feel.

Here’s the ten-cent primer; in general there are two basic types; roundwound and flatwound. A string is made from a couple pieces of wire; a main wire, or core. This is usually round or hexagonal, then another wire is wrapped around the core. This wire can be either round, or flat. If your outer wrap is stainless steel round, your tone will be zingy, and high end. At the other end of the spectrum, a nickel flat wound will be all about thump and boom.

There are other variations, like half, or ground wound, with straddles the line between round and flat, nylon wrap, gold wrap, bronze acoustic bass guitar strings, and nylon core, all different specialty strings.

I generally prefer a flat wound string, but I use different strings on different basses. The bass will tell you what it wants. Bass strings can run fairly expensive, especially compared to cheap, scrawny guitar strings, but changing strings is the cheapest way to modify the sound of your bass.

The other great thing about getting free strings was this; I like to leave strings on my bass for…ever. I like the tone once it mellows and settles. When I’d get a box of strings from Big Name Strings, I’d get six sets, which generally meant I’d use a couple of sets, and give the others away to bassists I’d meet! It worked out great, because handing out bass strings makes friends really quickly.

Recently, I sent Big Name Strings a letter, and told them who I was, what I did, what I liked about their strings, and asked if they might send me a half dozen sets a year, for me to use and give away, like I used to do. I got a letter back saying that their endorsement roles were full – of guys who don’t play, like my old boss, I guess – so no strings for me. Thus, ‘the names have been changed to protect the…”, cheap, Big Name String guys, I guess.


]]> Sun, 30 Aug 2009 22:20:15 GMT 7899D5C7A1B07C10AACBB6B728252B57 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=63465 As you probably know, I am something of a &ldquo;Freelance&rdquo; musician. This means I do a lot of subbing for other bass players, and various other fill-in gigs for bands that need a bassist short term. While there is nothing like being in a band that you&rsquo;re proud of, that works a lot, and satisfies your artistic wishes, playing with a bunch of different people, playing a bunch of different kinds of music keeps everything fresh and exciting. One reason I get so many of these gigs is that I have a reputation as someone who does the homework to prepare. One of the things that can drive a person crazy about these gig, is&hellip;doing the homework to prepare. It seems like every time I take a gig, it involves learning thirty new songs! I&rsquo;ve got three packages on my desk right now, full of set lists, CD&rsquo;s and charts. Jumping in and doing the work is the hard part, so as a way of putting off working on tunes, I thought I&rsquo;d write this column about&hellip;doing&hellip;the, umm&hellip;work. &ldquo;Putting the &lsquo;Pro&rsquo; in &lsquo;Procrastination&rsquo; since 1968!&rdquo; So let&rsquo;s take a look at the current crop of tunes I have to learn! Package No. 1; The Michael Robinson Band. I&rsquo;ve got two gigs coming up with Michael, this Thursday and Saturday, and while a lot of his list is standards I already know, there are a lot of originals to learn also. Most of these I can get by with notes in the margin of the set list, or quick charts, and I spent a good deal of Monday morning on these. Tuesday morning I&rsquo;m getting together with Jeff Magidson, to work on charts for our Winery gig this Friday in Ukiah. Package No.2 is The Red Hot Blues Sisters. I&rsquo;m totally excited about these gigs, because I really like these people and I really like this band! I&rsquo;m flying up to play in Vancouver with them the first weekend in September, and then do a festival with them on the border. They&rsquo;ve sent me three CD&rsquo;s, and a whole book of charts! So far I&rsquo;ve sorted through the charts, and started listening to the tunes. Tuesday I&rsquo;ll spend some time reading through the charts with the tracks. In the meantime, I have a handful of songs I have to chart out for an upcoming Becca gig at the end of August. I&rsquo;ve got to carve out some time for this early next week. Package No.3 is from Sweet Jones, a band I&rsquo;m playing with in New Orleans on September 19th. These guys are friends, and when Cindy and I booked our trip down, I checked to see if they needed a bass player for a scheduled gig. Score! I&rsquo;ll be able to concentrate on this stuff after all the other things, so I haven&rsquo;t really cracked it yet. Making the time to sit down with all the homework amidst all the other things that go with everyday life is the &lsquo;job&rsquo; part of my career. This preparation is why I get paid to play. I have a very good reputation, and like it or not, it&rsquo;s because I do the homework. I just have to remind myself of this from time to time.
While there is nothing like being in a band that you’re proud of, that works a lot, and satisfies your artistic wishes, playing with a bunch of different people, playing a bunch of different kinds of music keeps everything fresh and exciting.

One reason I get so many of these gigs is that I have a reputation as someone who does the homework to prepare. One of the things that can drive a person crazy about these gig, is…doing the homework to prepare. It seems like every time I take a gig, it involves learning thirty new songs!

I’ve got three packages on my desk right now, full of set lists, CD’s and charts. Jumping in and doing the work is the hard part, so as a way of putting off working on tunes, I thought I’d write this column about…doing…the, umm…work. “Putting the ‘Pro’ in ‘Procrastination’ since 1968!”

So let’s take a look at the current crop of tunes I have to learn!

Package No. 1; The Michael Robinson Band. I’ve got two gigs coming up with Michael, this Thursday and Saturday, and while a lot of his list is standards I already know, there are a lot of originals to learn also. Most of these I can get by with notes in the margin of the set list, or quick charts, and I spent a good deal of Monday morning on these.

Tuesday morning I’m getting together with Jeff Magidson, to work on charts for our Winery gig this Friday in Ukiah.

Package No.2 is The Red Hot Blues Sisters. I’m totally excited about these gigs, because I really like these people and I really like this band! I’m flying up to play in Vancouver with them the first weekend in September, and then do a festival with them on the border. They’ve sent me three CD’s, and a whole book of charts! So far I’ve sorted through the charts, and started listening to the tunes. Tuesday I’ll spend some time reading through the charts with the tracks.

In the meantime, I have a handful of songs I have to chart out for an upcoming Becca gig at the end of August. I’ve got to carve out some time for this early next week.

Package No.3 is from Sweet Jones, a band I’m playing with in New Orleans on September 19th. These guys are friends, and when Cindy and I booked our trip down, I checked to see if they needed a bass player for a scheduled gig. Score! I’ll be able to concentrate on this stuff after all the other things, so I haven’t really cracked it yet.

Making the time to sit down with all the homework amidst all the other things that go with everyday life is the ‘job’ part of my career. This preparation is why I get paid to play. I have a very good reputation, and like it or not, it’s because I do the homework.

I just have to remind myself of this from time to time.

]]> Tue, 18 Aug 2009 11:51:18 GMT ACBFCF1DB07A9732B31211825E5CD131 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=60671 Howdy friends, Fresh off our fun appearance on KRSH with Linda Seabright, The Brothers Goldman return to Armando's for another Thursday night of funk, jazz, R&amp;B, and whatever else comes flying by. The Brothers Goldman don't play a lot, but for me it's an opportunity to really stretch out and play some bass! Armando's is a gem of a club, a place where musicians can play and feel like musicians, NOT feel like Beer Salesmen. If you haven't been, you should go. Armando's is located at; 707 Marina Vista Martinez, CA The show is a &quot;grown up friendly&quot; 8 to 10PM affair, so unless you go overboard on the Beer and Wine sales (21 and over, please), we'll have you home in time for The Daily Show. Thanks for all your support, and I hope to see you tomorrow night! Kennan Shaw
Fresh off our fun appearance on KRSH with Linda Seabright, The Brothers Goldman return to Armando's for another Thursday night of funk, jazz, R&B, and whatever else comes flying by. The Brothers Goldman don't play a lot, but for me it's an opportunity to really stretch out and play some bass!

Armando's is a gem of a club, a place where musicians can play and feel like musicians, NOT feel like Beer Salesmen. If you haven't been, you should go.

Armando's is located at;
707 Marina Vista
Martinez, CA

The show is a "grown up friendly" 8 to 10PM affair, so unless you go overboard on the Beer and Wine sales (21 and over, please), we'll have you home in time for The Daily Show.

Thanks for all your support, and I hope to see you tomorrow night!
Kennan Shaw
]]> Thu, 13 Aug 2009 04:38:41 GMT 7D664D91B12F96EA0758C5286C15BF96 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=55567 We&rsquo;ve discussed this before; I am not a Luddite, but I do exist somewhere between &ldquo;New Media Savvy&rdquo; and &ldquo;Old Guy with Flashing VCR Clock.&rdquo; The fact that I even use the &lsquo;flashing VCR clock&rsquo; to describe myself in any way is a tip-off as to which end of the spectrum I favor. What this all means is, as a &lsquo;Working Musician&rsquo;, I&rsquo;ve got to try to keep up with the technology enough to use it to my benefit. First I got my own website; <a href="./home.cfm">http://kennanshaw.com/. Thanks to the fine folks at Bandzoogle, it&rsquo;s easy to set up and easy to maintain. I could post my schedule, write anything I wanted, and start my &lsquo;Web Presence&rsquo;. Next came MySpace. I&rsquo;ll make a confession here; when I signed up for MySpace, I didn&rsquo;t know there were separate set-ups for regular people, and musicians. I got a Regular Person site, and while it&rsquo;s been cool, I felt kind of foolish. However, it&rsquo;s been another outlet for my Blog, my calendar, and it&rsquo;s been a great way to connect with others. It&rsquo;s here; <a href="http://myspace.com/kennans">myspace.com/kennans Then, through Red House, I became involved in the East Bay Blues Network. The EBBN is a Social Network site where people can sign up, promote their stuff, write and read Blogs and Forums, post pictures, videos and songs&hellip;one stop shopping. Yet another place for my writing, and more shameless self promotion. Check it out here; <a href="http://www.eastbayblues.net/">http://www.eastbayblues.net/ But this is 2009! According to the World&rsquo;s Preeminent Solo Bassist and New Media Guru Steve Lawson, MySpace is &ldquo;like stepping into an internet museum, cruising on back to 2004...&rdquo;. So in an effort to keep my cyber-head above water, I started a Facebook account, rather timidly, and watched the &ldquo;Friends&rdquo; roll in. Facebook has been wonderful for re-connecting with people I haven&rsquo;t heard from in a while, and now seems to be full of really old pictures of&hellip;me. Weird. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#/kennan.shaw?ref=name">http://www.facebook.com/kennan.shaw Last week, sitting in Jury Duty, I was reading through my latest issue of Bass Player Magazine, and lo and behold there is a Steve Lawson interview, conducted over Twitter! 140 characters at a time. Steve says Twitter is a great way to connect with fans, friends, and even the vaguely curious. Steve is the prototypical new media musician, and has been at the front edge of all things internet, and his Empire (<a href="http://www.stevelawson.net/wordpress/">http://www.stevelawson.net/wordpress/ )is an amazing, multi-headed beast that encompasses all possible facets of Internet type action. While this makes me a little nervous about the coverage of the impending birth of &ldquo;Baby Flap Jack&rdquo;, it certainly means that his advice is sound. So&hellip;I&rsquo;m on Twitter, struggling to find enough to be interesting about. I&rsquo;ve got some followers, and there&rsquo;s a couple of people I follow, but I&rsquo;m really feeling this one out, one day at a time. So far I&rsquo;ve been vicariously enjoying Steve&rsquo;s holiday in Belize, and trying to get some traction of my own. If you&rsquo;re so inclined, cheer me on at <a href="https://twitter.com/kennanshaw">http://twitter.com/kennanshaw, and you may have noticed I&rsquo;ve added my &ldquo;Tweets&rdquo; to the my Blog page on kennanshaw.com. Huh? Huh? Savvy, right? I&rsquo;m totally &lsquo;the lost generation&rsquo; when it comes to this stuff. We&rsquo;re young enough that we should know how to use it, but old enough&hellip;well, look, my first record was more than likely a Flexi-Disc from the back of a cereal box, okay? I&rsquo;m just waiting for those to come back. In the meantime, I'll be on something called &quot;the Radio&quot; this Saturday with The Bros. Goldman. Check out <a href="http://www.krsh.com/listen.html">KRSH, at 8PM, Pacific.
First I got my own website; http://kennanshaw.com/. Thanks to the fine folks at Bandzoogle, it’s easy to set up and easy to maintain. I could post my schedule, write anything I wanted, and start my ‘Web Presence’.

Next came MySpace. I’ll make a confession here; when I signed up for MySpace, I didn’t know there were separate set-ups for regular people, and musicians. I got a Regular Person site, and while it’s been cool, I felt kind of foolish. However, it’s been another outlet for my Blog, my calendar, and it’s been a great way to connect with others. It’s here; myspace.com/kennans

Then, through Red House, I became involved in the East Bay Blues Network. The EBBN is a Social Network site where people can sign up, promote their stuff, write and read Blogs and Forums, post pictures, videos and songs…one stop shopping. Yet another place for my writing, and more shameless self promotion. Check it out here; http://www.eastbayblues.net/

But this is 2009! According to the World’s Preeminent Solo Bassist and New Media Guru Steve Lawson, MySpace is “like stepping into an internet museum, cruising on back to 2004...”. So in an effort to keep my cyber-head above water, I started a Facebook account, rather timidly, and watched the “Friends” roll in. Facebook has been wonderful for re-connecting with people I haven’t heard from in a while, and now seems to be full of really old pictures of…me. Weird. http://www.facebook.com/kennan.shaw

Last week, sitting in Jury Duty, I was reading through my latest issue of Bass Player Magazine, and lo and behold there is a Steve Lawson interview, conducted over Twitter! 140 characters at a time. Steve says Twitter is a great way to connect with fans, friends, and even the vaguely curious. Steve is the prototypical new media musician, and has been at the front edge of all things internet, and his Empire (http://www.stevelawson.net/wordpress/ )is an amazing, multi-headed beast that encompasses all possible facets of Internet type action. While this makes me a little nervous about the coverage of the impending birth of “Baby Flap Jack”, it certainly means that his advice is sound.

So…I’m on Twitter, struggling to find enough to be interesting about. I’ve got some followers, and there’s a couple of people I follow, but I’m really feeling this one out, one day at a time. So far I’ve been vicariously enjoying Steve’s holiday in Belize, and trying to get some traction of my own. If you’re so inclined, cheer me on at http://twitter.com/kennanshaw, and you may have noticed I’ve added my “Tweets” to the my Blog page on kennanshaw.com. Huh? Huh? Savvy, right?

I’m totally ‘the lost generation’ when it comes to this stuff. We’re young enough that we should know how to use it, but old enough…well, look, my first record was more than likely a Flexi-Disc from the back of a cereal box, okay? I’m just waiting for those to come back. In the meantime, I'll be on something called "the Radio" this Saturday with The Bros. Goldman. Check out KRSH, at 8PM, Pacific.




]]> Thu, 06 Aug 2009 01:05:00 GMT DCE08B0E48DFB47A0AD29B664EF1B54C http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=48379 As I&rsquo;ve probably mentioned a time or two, I&rsquo;ve had the good fortune of knowing and playing with a lot of really good musicians. As a bassist, it&rsquo;s usually drummers who stand out, because a great drummer is like Magic Johnson; he makes everyone around him better. However, when I think about the musicians I most enjoyed working with, and who could amaze me the most, it&rsquo;s a handful of singers that leap to mind. A really, really good singer has the ability to hold a crowd, and has the gift of infusing the song with emotion in an effortless manor. The best among them are our modern day Sirens; Alison Krauss and Emmylou Harris spring to my mind &ndash; and can sweep you away with their voices. Recently I&rsquo;ve been gigging with Miko Marks, and her energy and the joy that comes from her time singing is infectious. I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s easy to become a really good singer. I think the chips are stacked against you for a couple of reasons. First of all, at some point in their lives, everyone has been a singer. Every single person has done it, so there&rsquo;s a built-in &ldquo;what, like it&rsquo;s hard?&rdquo; factor. Secondly, most of what passes as &lsquo;great' singing in pop these days is&hellip;how can I put this delicately&hellip;crap. &ldquo;Vocal gymnastics&rdquo; have all but erased melody from entire songs. Even ballads end up sounding like a 13 year old emulating Van Halen guitar solos. A few years ago, two household name, super-diva singers did a duet for an animated movie. They both worked so hard to &lsquo;out do&rsquo; the other that the results sounded like a bag of cats. (For the super curious, look under &ldquo;Prince of Egypt&rdquo;.) Now let&rsquo;s talk about Pitch Correction Software. I think then general public would be shocked if they knew how many &ldquo;singers&rdquo; can&rsquo;t really sing. Pitch Correction takes the digital signal of a vocal line, and aligns it to the key of the music. Turn the effect all the way up, and you&rsquo;re Cher or T-Pain. Keep the level lower, and you&rsquo;re in tune with very little sonic coloration. This used to be just the purview of expensive recording studios, but as with all things software, now it&rsquo;s portable and easy to use. In fact, it&rsquo;s so prevalent now, that we only really think about it when they forget to use it, like the recent Michael Jackson memorial (everybody was&hellip;ummm&hellip;shall we say &rsquo;pitchy&rsquo;, and it wasn&rsquo;t because of emotions). So singers have become &lsquo;entertainers&rsquo;; a package of looks, fashion, production, make up, lighting, and oh yeah, the singing bit. They&rsquo;re more corporation than musician. All of which leads to my greatest pet peeve; lip syncing. At the recent All-Star game, a superstar &lsquo;performed&rsquo; the National Anthem, and the fact that she was mimicking to a pre-recorded track was barely concealed. This has been going on for years and years; performers without the guts to actually sing at big televised sporting events or even Music Awards shows. Granted, the &ldquo;Star Spangled Banner&rdquo; is a difficult and unwieldy song, but if you can&rsquo;t do it, maybe you just&hellip;shouldn&rsquo;t. It all seems very cowardly and unpatriotic. To add insult to sonic injury, at the All-Star game, when they got to the Seventh Inning Stretch, the viewing audience had to sit through a plodding, recorded version of &ldquo;God Bless America&rdquo;. Intention aside, that is one awful, awful song, and if you slow it down and try to over-emote it while lip syncing, it&rsquo;s almost enough to turn you into an enemy combatant. So, celebrate real singers. The one&rsquo;s who work on their voice the same way we work on playing our instruments. They still may look great, and know how to be that Front Person like any big-time video diva, but they&rsquo;ve built their reputation from the voice up. Seeing them live isn&rsquo;t like sitting around listening to recordings while they dance. I&rsquo;m working with a singer this Saturday who I&rsquo;ve known since she was a girl, and who impresses me more every time I work with her. Becca has a lot of talent, and I think she has a chance to do really well for herself in music. Maybe someday she&rsquo;ll be given the chance to lip sync our National Anthem before a Tostito&rsquo;s Bowl, or a Bud Lite NASCAR race, but I&rsquo;d like to think she&rsquo;d actually sing it. Y&rsquo;know; being a singer and all. Becca Gazebo at &ldquo;The Grove&rdquo; Public Park, Downtown Clayton Saturday, July 25th, 6 to 8PM.
However, when I think about the musicians I most enjoyed working with, and who could amaze me the most, it’s a handful of singers that leap to mind. A really, really good singer has the ability to hold a crowd, and has the gift of infusing the song with emotion in an effortless manor. The best among them are our modern day Sirens; Alison Krauss and Emmylou Harris spring to my mind – and can sweep you away with their voices. Recently I’ve been gigging with Miko Marks, and her energy and the joy that comes from her time singing is infectious.

I don’t think it’s easy to become a really good singer. I think the chips are stacked against you for a couple of reasons. First of all, at some point in their lives, everyone has been a singer. Every single person has done it, so there’s a built-in “what, like it’s hard?” factor. Secondly, most of what passes as ‘great' singing in pop these days is…how can I put this delicately…crap. “Vocal gymnastics” have all but erased melody from entire songs. Even ballads end up sounding like a 13 year old emulating Van Halen guitar solos.

A few years ago, two household name, super-diva singers did a duet for an animated movie. They both worked so hard to ‘out do’ the other that the results sounded like a bag of cats. (For the super curious, look under “Prince of Egypt”.)

Now let’s talk about Pitch Correction Software. I think then general public would be shocked if they knew how many “singers” can’t really sing. Pitch Correction takes the digital signal of a vocal line, and aligns it to the key of the music. Turn the effect all the way up, and you’re Cher or T-Pain. Keep the level lower, and you’re in tune with very little sonic coloration.

This used to be just the purview of expensive recording studios, but as with all things software, now it’s portable and easy to use. In fact, it’s so prevalent now, that we only really think about it when they forget to use it, like the recent Michael Jackson memorial (everybody was…ummm…shall we say ’pitchy’, and it wasn’t because of emotions). So singers have become ‘entertainers’; a package of looks, fashion, production, make up, lighting, and oh yeah, the singing bit. They’re more corporation than musician.

All of which leads to my greatest pet peeve; lip syncing. At the recent All-Star game, a superstar ‘performed’ the National Anthem, and the fact that she was mimicking to a pre-recorded track was barely concealed. This has been going on for years and years; performers without the guts to actually sing at big televised sporting events or even Music Awards shows. Granted, the “Star Spangled Banner” is a difficult and unwieldy song, but if you can’t do it, maybe you just…shouldn’t. It all seems very cowardly and unpatriotic.

To add insult to sonic injury, at the All-Star game, when they got to the Seventh Inning Stretch, the viewing audience had to sit through a plodding, recorded version of “God Bless America”. Intention aside, that is one awful, awful song, and if you slow it down and try to over-emote it while lip syncing, it’s almost enough to turn you into an enemy combatant.

So, celebrate real singers. The one’s who work on their voice the same way we work on playing our instruments. They still may look great, and know how to be that Front Person like any big-time video diva, but they’ve built their reputation from the voice up. Seeing them live isn’t like sitting around listening to recordings while they dance.

I’m working with a singer this Saturday who I’ve known since she was a girl, and who impresses me more every time I work with her. Becca has a lot of talent, and I think she has a chance to do really well for herself in music. Maybe someday she’ll be given the chance to lip sync our National Anthem before a Tostito’s Bowl, or a Bud Lite NASCAR race, but I’d like to think she’d actually sing it. Y’know; being a singer and all.

Becca
Gazebo at “The Grove” Public Park, Downtown Clayton
Saturday, July 25th, 6 to 8PM.

]]> Tue, 21 Jul 2009 22:20:16 GMT 7547EF66BE7FF14483FF4A547B680939 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=47482 I stand here before you an apologetic man. I have strayed, and in the eyes of some, I have sinned. I have betrayed my solemn commitments, and violated the trust of many who are dear to me. I can only stand here before you and beg your forgiveness, and perhaps try to illuminate my story to garner your understanding. I have always promised to love, honor, and obey The Blues, and now I feel I have let that promise fall by the wayside. It started innocently enough; a &ldquo;Trio&rdquo; gig at The Maple Leaf, a jazz show here and there; nothing really improper &ndash; no &lsquo;Ultimate Sin&rsquo;, just a warm friendship. Then, totally unexpectedly, a winter evening in a little club in Forestville blossomed into a full blown improv funk gig. I didn&rsquo;t mean for it to happen, it just did. Before I could even think it through I was sneaking off to sit in with R&amp;B bands! More and more New Orleans funkiness was seeping into my playing. I had very little compassion for anyone who would treat a Blues Rumba lightly. And before you knew it, I was telling people I was going to a blues date, and sneaking off to do Zydeco gigs. That&rsquo;s right; Zydeco. How much fault can The Blues take for my indiscretions? The Blues played a major role in making me the man, and Bass Player I am today, no doubt. Always coaching me on playing full quarter note walks, and keeping my lines simple and firm, providing a solid foundation for the flights of fancy any guitarist might take. The Blues showed me how to cut my hair, what shirts to wear, and where to get those funny little hats. The Blues made sure I knew all the tunes on the accepted list of standards, and wasn&rsquo;t afraid of changing keys. The Blues also told me that too much syncopation was wrong, and should be left to Latin players and other &lsquo;jazz&rsquo; musicians. Maybe all of this drove me away. Maybe it was the tipping point for my own mid-life crisis. Surely The Blues could see the signs; my new little red sports car, that gets great mileage and fits my big bass cab behind the rear seat, my &lsquo;new look&rsquo;; full beard and mustache and my new flowing locks &ndash; definitely not a Blues Uniform, for sure. Ultimately, I am the only one that can take the blame for driving me into the arms of funk and Zydeco. But make no mistake; this is not just some tawdry affair; this is a love story. A tragic, star-crossed love story. It&rsquo;s very difficult finding a steady outlet for these feelings here. I, however, know&hellip;that I have met&hellip;*sniff*&hellip;my Soulmate. I will always have that. I just hope The Blues and I can work through this, and remain close. Thank you. No questions at this time.
I have always promised to love, honor, and obey The Blues, and now I feel I have let that promise fall by the wayside. It started innocently enough; a “Trio” gig at The Maple Leaf, a jazz show here and there; nothing really improper – no ‘Ultimate Sin’, just a warm friendship. Then, totally unexpectedly, a winter evening in a little club in Forestville blossomed into a full blown improv funk gig. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.

Before I could even think it through I was sneaking off to sit in with R&B bands! More and more New Orleans funkiness was seeping into my playing. I had very little compassion for anyone who would treat a Blues Rumba lightly. And before you knew it, I was telling people I was going to a blues date, and sneaking off to do Zydeco gigs. That’s right; Zydeco.

How much fault can The Blues take for my indiscretions? The Blues played a major role in making me the man, and Bass Player I am today, no doubt. Always coaching me on playing full quarter note walks, and keeping my lines simple and firm, providing a solid foundation for the flights of fancy any guitarist might take. The Blues showed me how to cut my hair, what shirts to wear, and where to get those funny little hats. The Blues made sure I knew all the tunes on the accepted list of standards, and wasn’t afraid of changing keys. The Blues also told me that too much syncopation was wrong, and should be left to Latin players and other ‘jazz’ musicians.

Maybe all of this drove me away. Maybe it was the tipping point for my own mid-life crisis. Surely The Blues could see the signs; my new little red sports car, that gets great mileage and fits my big bass cab behind the rear seat, my ‘new look’; full beard and mustache and my new flowing locks – definitely not a Blues Uniform, for sure. Ultimately, I am the only one that can take the blame for driving me into the arms of funk and Zydeco.

But make no mistake; this is not just some tawdry affair; this is a love story. A tragic, star-crossed love story. It’s very difficult finding a steady outlet for these feelings here. I, however, know…that I have met…*sniff*…my Soulmate. I will always have that. I just hope The Blues and I can work through this, and remain close.

Thank you. No questions at this time.

]]> Fri, 10 Jul 2009 22:29:55 GMT C6AB531EB50C2E23F1CE431050A359BD http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=46861 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I believe that it&rsquo;s become a law now that if you write&hellip;anything&hellip;you must comment on Michael Jackson. Sorry, that&rsquo;s just the way it is. Coup in South America? Yawn. Civil unrest in the streets of Iran? Whatever. American Governor going AWOL in Argentine with his &ldquo;Soul Mate&rdquo; in the most public Mid-Life-Crisis Meltdown in history? Well, that one&rsquo;s pretty damn good, but&hellip;hello&hellip;&rsquo;King of Pop&rsquo; over here. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Unfortunately, my life is fairly bereft of MJ episodes. I remember someone brought a little Black and White T.V. to elementary school the day he was on &ldquo;The Dating Game&rdquo;. I remember when &ldquo;Thriller&rdquo; came out , I was working at a record store (look it up, kids), and we sold about 75 copies of that album every day. I remember my friend Gary Phillips was on a single that went to Number 2 in the whole U.S.A. but couldn&rsquo;t quite get past Michael for the top spot. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Good little tales, to be sure, but as big &lsquo;celebrity as culture&rsquo; deaths go, I still defer to Elvis Presley. It&rsquo;s not that I was a big Elvis fan; I was 17 when he died, and my frame of reference was that he was the old fat guy in the polyester jump suits who had made all those cheesy movies. Harsh, but like I said, I was 17 in 1977; I wasn&rsquo;t supposed to like Elvis. I was not his demographic. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Elvis died on August 16th. I know this date, because I remember it printed on the KISS ticket I had. They were playing at the Cow Palace or some barn that night, but I wasn&rsquo;t there. I had to give up my ticket because August 16th was the day our family vacation to Hawaii started. Okay&hellip;I know; &ldquo;Oh poor guy, has to go to Hawaii. Let me call you a Waaa-mbulance&rdquo;, but here again; 17. I learned of Elvis&rsquo; death because the first thing I did in my hotel room; shared with my two little sisters, of course, was try to tune in some good music on the radio, and that&rsquo;s when they announced his passing. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Normally, that would have been just another &ldquo;big deal&rdquo; teenage moment, but sometimes life deals you some amazing cards on the river, and suddenly what looked like a crummy hand turns to golden memories. See, Elvis really liked Hawaii. He made movies here, and he hung out here. He even had a favorite hotel, where he&rsquo;d always stay, and he knew the staff, and was always in a great mood whenever he was there. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Guess where my family had dinner reservations for that evening? For the big &ldquo;Fire Show&rdquo;? That&rsquo;s where they run around and light torches and play drums and hula dance for the mainlanders who are drinking out of cocoanuts and pineapples. All of this was made so much more enjoyable by the fact that the hostess and all the waitresses in the restaurant were bravely soldiering on with tears streaming down their cheeks as they seated you, and took your drink orders. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the special tonight?&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t have any real, memories of the &ldquo;show&rdquo; itself, beyond some running and fire juggling, but the pre-requisite &ldquo;Moment of Silence&rdquo; is still family lore to this day. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Wait; if I don&rsquo;t set this up right, it could seem like we&rsquo;re terrible people, and we&rsquo;re not. You have to put yourself in the scene; we ended up here by some bizarre twist of fate. My parents thought it would be a hokey but fun evening, and now we&rsquo;re surrounded by crying women, men in grass skirts, and a room full of people in white-belt-and-shoe ensembles and not many other kids. My sisters and I had a good &lsquo;giggle undercurrent&rsquo; going by then, with my Mom admonishing us to stop, but not because she was embarrassed, but because she didn&rsquo;t want to start laughing herself. So when the men in grass skirts bowed their heads, holding flaming torches aloft, and the solemn voice over came over the P.A., and said&hellip;said&hellip;well, look; I know speech impediments aren&rsquo;t really things to be made fun of. And I&rsquo;m pretty sure this was an impediment and not an accent. Not that accents should be laughed at either, it&rsquo;s just that&hellip;to this day, if the family is sitting around together, one sure-fire way to get a laugh is to say &ldquo;Bang the Big dwum&hellip;&rdquo;. It made us all laugh out loud then, and it makes us all laugh now. Except now it&rsquo;s not pissing off a room full of grieving people. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ultimately, as the years went by I decided that Elvis was okay, and that anyone who touched as many people&rsquo;s lives as he did for so long had to be given some points for cool. He was so famous for so long that eventually he became famous for being famous, once the creative output dwindled. Sure, his final years seemed weird and drug addled, his appearance frightening to his friends and fans alike, but ultimately he made his choices. I don&rsquo;t buy into the whole &ldquo;fame killed him&rdquo; junk. After his death there was a period where family and so-called &ldquo;insiders&rdquo; battled for their own little pieces of the legacy, whether to tarnish it or try to shine it to a too-bright finish. Eventually memories get replaced with The Icon, and then, &ldquo;Icon Inc&rdquo;. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The passing of Michael Jackson will be exactly the same. Well, except for the personal comedic value. hello…’King of Pop’ over here.

    Unfortunately, my life is fairly bereft of MJ episodes. I remember someone brought a little Black and White T.V. to elementary school the day he was on “The Dating Game”. I remember when “Thriller” came out , I was working at a record store (look it up, kids), and we sold about 75 copies of that album every day. I remember my friend Gary Phillips was on a single that went to Number 2 in the whole U.S.A. but couldn’t quite get past Michael for the top spot.

    Good little tales, to be sure, but as big ‘celebrity as culture’ deaths go, I still defer to Elvis Presley. It’s not that I was a big Elvis fan; I was 17 when he died, and my frame of reference was that he was the old fat guy in the polyester jump suits who had made all those cheesy movies. Harsh, but like I said, I was 17 in 1977; I wasn’t supposed to like Elvis. I was not his demographic.

    Elvis died on August 16th. I know this date, because I remember it printed on the KISS ticket I had. They were playing at the Cow Palace or some barn that night, but I wasn’t there. I had to give up my ticket because August 16th was the day our family vacation to Hawaii started. Okay…I know; “Oh poor guy, has to go to Hawaii. Let me call you a Waaa-mbulance”, but here again; 17. I learned of Elvis’ death because the first thing I did in my hotel room; shared with my two little sisters, of course, was try to tune in some good music on the radio, and that’s when they announced his passing.

    Normally, that would have been just another “big deal” teenage moment, but sometimes life deals you some amazing cards on the river, and suddenly what looked like a crummy hand turns to golden memories. See, Elvis really liked Hawaii. He made movies here, and he hung out here. He even had a favorite hotel, where he’d always stay, and he knew the staff, and was always in a great mood whenever he was there.

    Guess where my family had dinner reservations for that evening? For the big “Fire Show”? That’s where they run around and light torches and play drums and hula dance for the mainlanders who are drinking out of cocoanuts and pineapples. All of this was made so much more enjoyable by the fact that the hostess and all the waitresses in the restaurant were bravely soldiering on with tears streaming down their cheeks as they seated you, and took your drink orders. “What’s the special tonight?”

    I don’t have any real, memories of the “show” itself, beyond some running and fire juggling, but the pre-requisite “Moment of Silence” is still family lore to this day.

    Wait; if I don’t set this up right, it could seem like we’re terrible people, and we’re not. You have to put yourself in the scene; we ended up here by some bizarre twist of fate. My parents thought it would be a hokey but fun evening, and now we’re surrounded by crying women, men in grass skirts, and a room full of people in white-belt-and-shoe ensembles and not many other kids. My sisters and I had a good ‘giggle undercurrent’ going by then, with my Mom admonishing us to stop, but not because she was embarrassed, but because she didn’t want to start laughing herself. So when the men in grass skirts bowed their heads, holding flaming torches aloft, and the solemn voice over came over the P.A., and said…said…well, look; I know speech impediments aren’t really things to be made fun of. And I’m pretty sure this was an impediment and not an accent. Not that accents should be laughed at either, it’s just that…to this day, if the family is sitting around together, one sure-fire way to get a laugh is to say “Bang the Big dwum…”. It made us all laugh out loud then, and it makes us all laugh now. Except now it’s not pissing off a room full of grieving people.

    Ultimately, as the years went by I decided that Elvis was okay, and that anyone who touched as many people’s lives as he did for so long had to be given some points for cool. He was so famous for so long that eventually he became famous for being famous, once the creative output dwindled. Sure, his final years seemed weird and drug addled, his appearance frightening to his friends and fans alike, but ultimately he made his choices. I don’t buy into the whole “fame killed him” junk. After his death there was a period where family and so-called “insiders” battled for their own little pieces of the legacy, whether to tarnish it or try to shine it to a too-bright finish. Eventually memories get replaced with The Icon, and then, “Icon Inc”.

    The passing of Michael Jackson will be exactly the same. Well, except for the personal comedic value.

]]> Fri, 03 Jul 2009 22:44:20 GMT 96D995E94EDD4A7FA9F417C155A80D93 http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=45472 &nbsp;&nbsp; There&rsquo;s an old story about going to Nashville to &ldquo;make it&rdquo; in music. What you&rsquo;re supposed to do as you drive towards Nashville is pull off the road about fifty miles from town, and find the nearest gas station. Roll into the gas station, take out your guitar (or bass), and hand it to the attendant. If he plays better than you, turn around and go home. If not, continue on your journey, stopping about every ten miles to pit your skills against the &lsquo;locals&rsquo;. If you make it all the way to the city limits, you might have a shot. I said &lsquo;might&rsquo;. &nbsp;&nbsp; That particular legend came back to me about halfway into Miko Mark&rsquo;s first set Saturday night there at the corner of Commerce and Second, just up the street from Broadway, when I had a small epiphany &ndash; y&rsquo;know; the little kind that makes you laugh at weird times &ndash; when I realized that I was in the heart of Nashville playing a Patsy Cline song. &nbsp;&nbsp; The entire city was one gigantic party to celebrate the CMA Fan Fest, and a city that&lsquo;s all about music was full to the brim with players and fans hanging out together. Autograph sessions, outdoor stages, a ton of nightclubs, and the stadium were humming with activity all through the weekend. The beer was flowing, the girls were pretty, and the streets were packed. &nbsp;&nbsp; As fun as the whole festival part of the whirlwind, in and out trip was, the best part might have been the people I met. Our guitarist, Kelly Back (from &lsquo;Wingnut&rsquo; days) had lived in Nashville some years ago, and still had friends in town. Having the chance to talk to locals about the whole scene and how the game works was very illuminating. Guys like Chris Boggs and Scott Alexander have the insiders view, and shared it freely. Chad Lemons was somewhere between a one-man tourist bureau, and a natural disaster; if you can balance those two, a certain type of people will flock to your door. Whether you want them there in the morning is something else entirely. &nbsp;&nbsp; The city get called &ndash; derisively &ndash; &ldquo;Nash-Vegas&rdquo; a lot, but it reminded me of Hollywood, in that everyone is &ldquo;industry&rdquo; to some degree, or has an angle, or plays one form or another of the name-dropper game. Where that stuff is so damn superficial and annoying in the movie industry, it kind of made sense to me in Nashville. See, it&rsquo;s not enough to say &ldquo;it&rsquo;s all about music&rdquo;. What it really is all about in Nashville is getting people to listen to music. It&rsquo;s bigger than the players, bigger than the industry, and even bigger than the &lsquo;artists&rsquo;. &ldquo;Music City&rdquo; boasts the best studios, the best rehearsal facilities, the best all around support structure for getting people to listen to music, and the best musicians to play that music. One person associated with a studio &ndash; who shall go unnamed to protect the&hellip;umm&hellip;well, guilty &ndash; said that in other cities they could &ldquo;spend all day trying to explain the feel we needed on a track to the keyboardist or the guitarist, and still not get it. Here, we&rsquo;re done before lunch.&rdquo; &nbsp;&nbsp; So I don&rsquo;t know how far towards town I would get taking the &ldquo;pull over and check your skill level&rdquo; advice, but I know that we blew into the heart of Nashville with a country band from Oakland, and we represented. We played hard, and we played good. Miko kicked butt. Come see for yourself when she plays Union Square on Sunday, June 28th from 2 to 5PM. &nbsp;&nbsp; For me, Nashville instantly made my fairly short &ldquo;Places I would totally live&rdquo; list. And between you and me, I don&rsquo;t think any of those gas station attendants are going to keep me out. At least not quietly.
   That particular legend came back to me about halfway into Miko Mark’s first set Saturday night there at the corner of Commerce and Second, just up the street from Broadway, when I had a small epiphany – y’know; the little kind that makes you laugh at weird times – when I realized that I was in the heart of Nashville playing a Patsy Cline song.

   The entire city was one gigantic party to celebrate the CMA Fan Fest, and a city that‘s all about music was full to the brim with players and fans hanging out together. Autograph sessions, outdoor stages, a ton of nightclubs, and the stadium were humming with activity all through the weekend. The beer was flowing, the girls were pretty, and the streets were packed.

   As fun as the whole festival part of the whirlwind, in and out trip was, the best part might have been the people I met. Our guitarist, Kelly Back (from ‘Wingnut’ days) had lived in Nashville some years ago, and still had friends in town. Having the chance to talk to locals about the whole scene and how the game works was very illuminating. Guys like Chris Boggs and Scott Alexander have the insiders view, and shared it freely. Chad Lemons was somewhere between a one-man tourist bureau, and a natural disaster; if you can balance those two, a certain type of people will flock to your door. Whether you want them there in the morning is something else entirely.

   The city get called – derisively – “Nash-Vegas” a lot, but it reminded me of Hollywood, in that everyone is “industry” to some degree, or has an angle, or plays one form or another of the name-dropper game. Where that stuff is so damn superficial and annoying in the movie industry, it kind of made sense to me in Nashville. See, it’s not enough to say “it’s all about music”. What it really is all about in Nashville is getting people to listen to music. It’s bigger than the players, bigger than the industry, and even bigger than the ‘artists’. “Music City” boasts the best studios, the best rehearsal facilities, the best all around support structure for getting people to listen to music, and the best musicians to play that music. One person associated with a studio – who shall go unnamed to protect the…umm…well, guilty – said that in other cities they could “spend all day trying to explain the feel we needed on a track to the keyboardist or the guitarist, and still not get it. Here, we’re done before lunch.”

   So I don’t know how far towards town I would get taking the “pull over and check your skill level” advice, but I know that we blew into the heart of Nashville with a country band from Oakland, and we represented. We played hard, and we played good. Miko kicked butt. Come see for yourself when she plays Union Square on Sunday, June 28th from 2 to 5PM.

   For me, Nashville instantly made my fairly short “Places I would totally live” list. And between you and me, I don’t think any of those gas station attendants are going to keep me out. At least not quietly.

]]> Tue, 16 Jun 2009 10:35:00 GMT 397D09073537706BEB2714E0BC28A74E http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=45169 Music is hard wired into our brains. Every culture has had music. While not every culture has the same 12 note scale of Western music, &ldquo;octave equivalence&rdquo;; the fact that if the frequency of sound waves of a given tone is doubled, the note will be the same but an octave higher, is present in all music. The &ldquo;perfect consonances&rdquo; of Fifths and Fourths are easy concepts to anyone who&rsquo;s learned a blues, folk, rock, country&hellip;any kind of song. The &ldquo;oldest known popular song&rdquo; was written on a Sumarian clay tablet 3,400 years ago, and when it was deciphered and performed several years ago, it turned out to be a so-called &ldquo;I IV V&rdquo;, like C, F, &amp; G. Just like all the Chuck Berry classics. Just like the plaintive songs of Hank Williams. Just like almost every blues song ever played at a jam. So what really separates these songs from one another? Where does the concept of &lsquo;music genre&rsquo; come from? Bass and drums, my friends; bass and drums. A change in the rhythm section is all it takes for songs to achieve classification. I&rsquo;ll show you; take an easy, well known I IV V song; &ldquo;Three Little Birds&rdquo; by Bob Marley. You know this one; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry, about a thing, &lsquo;cause ev&rsquo;ry little thing, is gonna be alright&hellip;&rdquo;. Nice reggae groove; lot&rsquo;s of space in the bass, snare hits feel like they&rsquo;re on &lsquo;three&rsquo; with that reggae, half-time feel. Now, strip it down to vocals and rhythm guitar, and this time ad a straight drum beat and a &ldquo;1, 5, 1, 5&rdquo; bass line, and viola; y&rsquo;all&rsquo;er playin&rsquo; country and western! Pod&rsquo;ner! Wait; now put in a good, snare rollin&rsquo; &lsquo;train&rsquo; beat, with a blues-rumba bass line; a &ldquo;Crosscut Saw&rdquo; type of rhythm, and that is straight up New Orleans gumbo! Now use a Chicago style blues box pattern, like &ldquo;Tore Down&rdquo;, and it&rsquo;s Chess Records all over again! Us humans like melody. Because of the nature and consonance of a good I IV V, a lot of great melodies fit right in there. While &lsquo;Groove&rsquo; is (or should be) the inescapable goal of any song, which groove is always up for interpretation, and that&rsquo;s where the value of a true rhythm section (including the vastly underrated Rhythm Guitar) comes into play. I&rsquo;m off to Nashville, where I&rsquo;ll be tending to the groove with Miko Marks at this year&rsquo;s CMA Fan Fest! If you&rsquo;re in town for any of the scabillion shows, come see us at The Wild Beaver Saturday night!
So what really separates these songs from one another? Where does the concept of ‘music genre’ come from? Bass and drums, my friends; bass and drums. A change in the rhythm section is all it takes for songs to achieve classification.

I’ll show you; take an easy, well known I IV V song; “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. You know this one; “Don’t worry, about a thing, ‘cause ev’ry little thing, is gonna be alright…”. Nice reggae groove; lot’s of space in the bass, snare hits feel like they’re on ‘three’ with that reggae, half-time feel.

Now, strip it down to vocals and rhythm guitar, and this time ad a straight drum beat and a “1, 5, 1, 5” bass line, and viola; y’all’er playin’ country and western! Pod’ner!

Wait; now put in a good, snare rollin’ ‘train’ beat, with a blues-rumba bass line; a “Crosscut Saw” type of rhythm, and that is straight up New Orleans gumbo!

Now use a Chicago style blues box pattern, like “Tore Down”, and it’s Chess Records all over again!

Us humans like melody. Because of the nature and consonance of a good I IV V, a lot of great melodies fit right in there. While ‘Groove’ is (or should be) the inescapable goal of any song, which groove is always up for interpretation, and that’s where the value of a true rhythm section (including the vastly underrated Rhythm Guitar) comes into play.

I’m off to Nashville, where I’ll be tending to the groove with Miko Marks at this year’s CMA Fan Fest! If you’re in town for any of the scabillion shows, come see us at The Wild Beaver Saturday night!

]]> Fri, 12 Jun 2009 20:13:49 GMT 11642466F86915EBEA90E9B287E239FF http://kennanshaw.com/blog20078.cfm?feature=27307&postid=44723 People play music because they love to play music. &ldquo;Play&rdquo;. The artistic freedom. Good times with friends. The titillating satisfaction that comes with the situational adoration that accompanies performance&hellip;y&rsquo;know; chicks. I don&rsquo;t throw around absolutes too often, *ahem*, but I will say this; nobody ever got into music because they enjoyed the concept of trying to book gigs. There is no &ldquo;thrill of the hunt&rdquo; in continuously trying to talk bar owners out of their money. Let&rsquo;s face it; the &lsquo;business&rsquo; part of the music business, is often demoralizing and depressing, and probably contributes more to Musician Drop-out than anything else, except maybe &ldquo;Musicians Flaky-Jerk Syndrome&rdquo;. So let&rsquo;s walk our way through some typical Club Owners and/or Bookers to see if by identifying their genus and species, we can&rsquo;t learn to deal with them better. &ldquo;The Beer Seller&rdquo;; Easy to spot due to a certain general weariness that permeates their existence. Upon engaging them, it&rsquo;s easy to begin questioning whether they even like music at all. Incapable of understanding why you can&rsquo;t draw two hundred people at Eleven PM on a Tuesday night to their &lsquo;hot spot&rsquo; that no one goes to. Be careful; &lsquo;Moral Ambiguity&rsquo; is a trademark of the Beer seller, and you can never be sure where the uncrossable line exists. Sure, hiring strippers to &lsquo;dance&rsquo; during your set will fill the room, and sell a lot of beer, but chances are that for every person who may enjoy such a thing, there are others who will be mad. Really mad. The irony of the &ldquo;Careful what you wish for&rdquo; lesson is wasted on the Beer Seller. Care and Feeding; Engage the Beer Seller only if you are adept at selling beer. If you have that kind of draw, take advantage of it and woo only the best Beer Sellers with the brightest plumage. Otherwise, you should probably avoid them. &ldquo;The Moneyed Hipster&rdquo;; The entire reason for even owning a Nightclub for the Moneyed Hipster is because of the elevated status it brings to it&rsquo;s owner. You&rsquo;re ability to be booked there is directly proportionate to how cool it would be to have a picture taken with you. Make no mistake, he considers you part of his plumage. Deep psychological problems from childhood are always on display. Put one small chip in his well constructed mental playhouse, and he&rsquo;ll turn on you in an instant, and all of his self aggrandizing stories will become cries of &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never work in this town again.&rdquo; He could, for instance, be on stage trying to turn off your bass amp while the lead singer is running through the club chased by Bouncers, gleefully knocking over the house P.A., and you wind up in a Sacramento motel two hours later thinking &ldquo;What the hell was THAT?&rdquo; Care and Feeding; Cultivate the relationship. Moneyed Hipsters have a tendency to overpay to hang out with you, and throw cash around to attract friends. They might as well throw some your way! Just remember to keep an escape route for when it goes bad. &ldquo;The Woe-is-Me&rdquo;; You generally have to get close to hear their plaintive call; some variation on &ldquo;Life is hard, running a bar is harder, and thankless, and if I can scrape by for just one more month, I&rsquo;ll be doing the world a favor.&rdquo; There is some speculation that the Woe is a crossbreed between the Beer Seller and the Moneyed Hipster, but to date, there&rsquo;s no scientific proof of that. Generally very friendly, they are quick to talk about their problems, and offer visions of a glorious future just over the horizon. Beware; one minute, you&rsquo;re practically partners, and before you know it, your band is playing New Years Eve for two hundred bucks and a handful of shiny promises. When you try to cash in those promises, you find the Woe has already sold out and flown the coup. You get one more soul crushing &ldquo;no good deed goes unpunished&rdquo; lesson. Care and Feeding; Engage but keep a respectful distance. Commiserate instead of sympathize. Stay business-like. Remember that generally speaking, no favor done for a club owner, especially a Woe-is-Me, is ever repaid. These three examples are by no means the only species of Club Owner/Booker out there. There are others, like &ldquo;The Clueless&rdquo;, who obviously have an extremely short life span, &ldquo;The Jaded Cougar&rdquo; who spends all it&rsquo;s time desperately chasing the latest trends, and &ldquo;The Who Cares&rdquo;, that will take up with whoever calls first at the special designated random secret time, and that is all that matters. Of course, there are some exceptional Club Owners/ Bookers, and these are the ones that should be most sought after. They come by many names usually associated with &ldquo;nice&rdquo;, &ldquo;cool&rdquo;, and &ldquo;friend&rdquo;. They&rsquo;re honest with you up front, and you can tell that they see their club as part of a Music Community. You might be lucky enough to see one or two of these rare birds, and they are the ones most worthy of protecting. It&rsquo;s no surprise or mistake that the best people make the best Club Owners/Bookers. Speaking of which, if you want to catch a glimpse of just such a rare bird or two, come to Armando&rsquo;s, on Thursday, June 11th to see me and <a href="http://www.myspace.com/thebrothersgoldman">The Bros. Goldman, for an evening of &lsquo;Meters&rsquo; inspired, New Orleans funk. A fine time will be had by all. I promise. The Bros. Goldman Thursday, June 11th, 8 to 10PM Armando&rsquo;s 707 Marina Vista Martinez
I don’t throw around absolutes too often, *ahem*, but I will say this; nobody ever got into music because they enjoyed the concept of trying to book gigs. There is no “thrill of the hunt” in continuously trying to talk bar owners out of their money. Let’s face it; the ‘business’ part of the music business, is often demoralizing and depressing, and probably contributes more to Musician Drop-out than anything else, except maybe “Musicians Flaky-Jerk Syndrome”.

So let’s walk our way through some typical Club Owners and/or Bookers to see if by identifying their genus and species, we can’t learn to deal with them better.

“The Beer Seller”; Easy to spot due to a certain general weariness that permeates their existence. Upon engaging them, it’s easy to begin questioning whether they even like music at all. Incapable of understanding why you can’t draw two hundred people at Eleven PM on a Tuesday night to their ‘hot spot’ that no one goes to. Be careful; ‘Moral Ambiguity’ is a trademark of the Beer seller, and you can never be sure where the uncrossable line exists. Sure, hiring strippers to ‘dance’ during your set will fill the room, and sell a lot of beer, but chances are that for every person who may enjoy such a thing, there are others who will be mad. Really mad. The irony of the “Careful what you wish for” lesson is wasted on the Beer Seller.

Care and Feeding; Engage the Beer Seller only if you are adept at selling beer. If you have that kind of draw, take advantage of it and woo only the best Beer Sellers with the brightest plumage. Otherwise, you should probably avoid them.

“The Moneyed Hipster”; The entire reason for even owning a Nightclub for the Moneyed Hipster is because of the elevated status it brings to it’s owner. You’re ability to be booked there is directly proportionate to how cool it would be to have a picture taken with you. Make no mistake, he considers you part of his plumage. Deep psychological problems from childhood are always on display. Put one small chip in his well constructed mental playhouse, and he’ll turn on you in an instant, and all of his self aggrandizing stories will become cries of “You’ll never work in this town again.” He could, for instance, be on stage trying to turn off your bass amp while the lead singer is running through the club chased by Bouncers, gleefully knocking over the house P.A., and you wind up in a Sacramento motel two hours later thinking “What the hell was THAT?”

Care and Feeding; Cultivate the relationship. Moneyed Hipsters have a tendency to overpay to hang out with you, and throw cash around to attract friends. They might as well throw some your way! Just remember to keep an escape route for when it goes bad.

“The Woe-is-Me”; You generally have to get close to hear their plaintive call; some variation on “Life is hard, running a bar is harder, and thankless, and if I can scrape by for just one more month, I’ll be doing the world a favor.” There is some speculation that the Woe is a crossbreed between the Beer Seller and the Moneyed Hipster, but to date, there’s no scientific proof of that. Generally very friendly, they are quick to talk about their problems, and offer visions of a glorious future just over the horizon. Beware; one minute, you’re practically partners, and before you know it, your band is playing New Years Eve for two hundred bucks and a handful of shiny promises. When you try to cash in those promises, you find the Woe has already sold out and flown the coup. You get one more soul crushing “no good deed goes unpunished” lesson.

Care and Feeding; Engage but keep a respectful distance. Commiserate instead of sympathize. Stay business-like. Remember that generally speaking, no favor done for a club owner, especially a Woe-is-Me, is ever repaid.

These three examples are by no means the only species of Club Owner/Booker out there. There are others, like “The Clueless”, who obviously have an extremely short life span, “The Jaded Cougar” who spends all it’s time desperately chasing the latest trends, and “The Who Cares”, that will take up with whoever calls first at the special designated random secret time, and that is all that matters.

Of course, there are some exceptional Club Owners/ Bookers, and these are the ones that should be most sought after. They come by many names usually associated with “nice”, “cool”, and “friend”. They’re honest with you up front, and you can tell that they see their club as part of a Music Community. You might be lucky enough to see one or two of these rare birds, and they are the ones most worthy of protecting. It’s no surprise or mistake that the best people make the best Club Owners/Bookers.

Speaking of which, if you want to catch a glimpse of just such a rare bird or two, come to Armando’s, on Thursday, June 11th to see me and The Bros. Goldman, for an evening of ‘Meters’ inspired, New Orleans funk. A fine time will be had by all. I promise.

The Bros. Goldman
Thursday, June 11th, 8 to 10PM
Armando’s
707 Marina Vista
Martinez

]]> Sat, 06 Jun 2009 01:48:19 GMT 615872B2666308FF16F99EFF2FE96056