Steve's PlaceKids, gather 'round. Grandpa has a tale with a warning attached to tell.
I have walked around this story before. Let's spill all of the juicy details this time.
Maybe. Or not.
When I was a teenager, I was in several bands. My fav rock band decided to audition for a gig at a local high school, where they wanted a local band to play support for The Doobie Brothers.
Back then, bands charged so little, it was possible to book bands like them, It's A Beautiful Day and Santana for proms. The former opened that night.
Heard a recording of wasted us performing there. Was pretty good, actually. The audience liked it. Should have gotten a copy before the guy who had it drowned, entangled in the line attached to the submarine he'd built. He couldn't swim. His was a too-short, but amazing life I may discuss at some point.
Anyway, our big opponent was this girl with a twang in her voice. She could really sing, and had all of these poems she'd written.
Noticing that she could really sing, one of our friends did the kindly thing, and knocked his Coke into our PA. Oops. Nobody was going to hear us yell random, wavering notes at that audition.
But we could kick-ass play our instruments.
Well, we got the gig, not Stevie Nicks.
Here comes the warning. Dudes, think! We couldn't sing for shit back then, and our lyrics were... things. She went on to become a superstar, and was looking for musicians to work with. We should have jumped at the opportunity.
Instead, we talked about how she sounded kind of country-western. One of the guys who hung with us later said they'd shared their poems. He dated her.. sister? I heard it didn't go well. He could be kind of a jerk. Sorry, R. Maybe I should feel sorrier for her. Sorry again, R.
Don't be idiotic and catty boys, talking to yourselves as though you know anything about the future. You're teenagers. All of that stuff is nonsense. Be bold!
Her poems were SO much better than his or mine. You can read them in the liner notes for classic Fleetwood Mac songs.
Much later, I discovered that Campbell, California, all of about 2 miles from where I lived, was a hotbed of Bay Area music, but most of those guys were just a bit older, and I wasn't connected to them in any way. She was there. The Jefferson Airplane practiced there. A bassist in a band I was in years later, a 2nd cousin of Bill Medley himself, was an occasional bassist for some Airplane rehearsals in Campbell when Jack wasn't able to make it.
It's a small world. Be bold! That might be a future R&R Hall of Fame member you're not jumping at the opportunity to work with.
Mick sure as hell did. She reformulated his band from silver into gold.
Their band walked past me one day, many years later, as they arrived for a dinner at a restaurant my wife and I were enjoying on FIsherman's Wharf. The band had piled out of their Fleetwood Cadillac with the Mac license plate.
I later hung with friends (the same friends who made sure the PA wasn't working), one of whose sister dated a member of Tower of Power. We met. Did I ask to jam? Oh, hell no.
Be bold!
Regrets? I've had a few, although I've never gotten into an angry shout-singing match with my significant oth... er... on... stage... wait. Wait wait wait. Memories... light the corners of our regrets.
Yeah, okay. Scratch that.
Anyway, kids, play straight, or on nothing stronger than pot. You'll remember the embarrassing moments a lot better later.
I may have left a bunch of details for the reader to wonder about.
I LOVE ROCK & ROLL! π€ π€ͺ πΈ β€οΈ
#FaircampFriday #BandcampFriday #music #MusicProduction #MusicBusiness #StevieNicks #DoobieBrothers #ItsABeautifulDay #gigs #gigging #auditions #Campbell #JeffersonAirplane #FleetwoodMac
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