worked all morning trying to make our logo ROCK. Results should be on the website by tomorrow. Higher Ground is rockin' ... now for the rest of Wednesday nights set list!
Krippled Dogz at BFE: The rest of the set continued on without incident, that is if you don't call pure, raw, tribal, high energy rock-n-roll "incident," until we got to the guitar solo of "Coming Home." Now I like that song, I really do, but I absolutely LOVE the way Chief plays the guitar solo. As Point Man belts out that last high note Chief lays plectrum to pitiable E string and virtually ASSAULTS his abused axe, simultaneously shredding each of the six wires and his guitar lets out a pained howl as if a bald eagle had suddenly grabbed Dom DeLuise's bald head in its talons. In the meantime Point Man holds that high note until his face is the color of running blood beets and then he lets it slide down into chest territory where it rumbles like Mount Kilimanjaro preparing for a second eruption. Man was it awesome. Now I've heard that plenty on the recording and in the rehearsal studio - awesome, yeah, awesome, ok, but here in this live venue with about FIVE THOUSAND JIGA-WATTS blasting it out, the lights flashing like some sort of hallucinogenic nightmare gone wrong, and a throng of fans hugging the stage footlights threatening to storm the bandstand, well, this was an entirely different level. I just couldn't handle it and although I tried to resist the impulse, I found that I was impelled to rise to my feet along with the rest of the crowd and, in addition to dancing my head off, try to match Chief's energy by stomping on my poor Ludwig Speed King bass drum pedal. All that's fine and well except for one tiiiiiny little problem. When I stood up I knocked over my drum throne and in all the excitement I juuuust diiiiidn't notice. So when Chief's solo was over and I somewhat got control over myself, I went to sit back down and flash the crowd with a stunning drum fill the likes of which would have made Gene Krupa drop his dentures. I sat down alright. ON THE FLOOR! And it wasn't so much "sit" as it was "drop like a bomb." Do you think anyone noticed? I looked up to see about 50 people pointing and laughing at me. Well, I *know* they aren't laughing at my drumming, so, yeah, they noticed. Davey, sitting in the cheap seats, grabs my wife's arm and yells "He fell down! He fell down!" My wife, bless her little concerned heart, says "It's ok! He's back up!" Thanks for the concern babe . Miss a beat? Not. Vertebrae maybe.
Dude we were hot! I mean really hot! I mean, like, there was no A/C on stage and those lights were hot! We were setting up and, although a pro like me is, of course, used to the white hot spotlight, there was this one spotlight that was shining on me and man was it hot. So I asked the house guy if we couldn't kill those lights until we were ready to start. I was already drenched in sweat before we ever started the downbeat. I had told all the guys explicitly that after we set up I would need a few minutes backstage to freshen up a little and change before we started our show. I mean, I wanted to look good, right? I had a surprise costume change that I had kept secret from EVERYONE. Even my own little wife didn't know about it. And everyone was a critic on my clothing before the show. I wore a tie to the club. Before I even left home my wife was arguing over the color of my tie, she thought a black one would look better than a white one. I have a white tie that I love but she never wants me to wear it, she thinks I look like a waiter at Chili's. She's griping about my tie and she doesn't even know that I've got a costume. And I'm trying to put her off but she won't give in! (Billy Joel, 1976-"Oh, and she never gives in, she just changes her mind"). I finally make it to the club and as soon as I exit the car all the Dogz are making a big deal over the tie. Point Man comes over and tries to start retying it for me, and once again, he won't give in! That guy's nothing if not persistent. He doesn't even know that I'll be wearing a tunic and it doesn't matter if my tie is a little too short. Then we finish setting up and, as I already told everyone, I head backstage to mop my brow and change. Chief makes a big fuss that I'm delaying the show. I'll admit it was four minutes and listening to the audio recording of the gig that seems like eternity, but c'mon, FOUR MINUTES??? And I had to go on stage once to fix my metronome. When I hit the stage in my Beatle boots, hippie pants and Sgt. Pepper outfit the entire club erupted in pandemonium! It was bedlam! People were screaming and cheering (well my wife was anyway), I was blinded by several dozen (well, several anyway) popping flash bulbs, Point Man starts yelling: "Chief! CHIEF! Get a load of this!" Chief takes one look and just buries his face in his hands in disbelief. Later Chief told me he was skeptical at first but in the end he felt I was able to sell it and it turned out good. I strutted my stuff for a few seconds and made sure everyone got a good look and then I walked behind my drum set, took a deep breath, synced myself with my metronome that was blazing away at a frenetic 144 beats per minute and then hammered out the drum solo intro to "Trial By Fire." Total violence. Chief and The Colonel come in on cue and when Point Man put mouth to mic the crowd was so stunned that you could have heard a pin drop in that club. That is, if we hadn't been blasting out pure, raw, tribal, high energy rock-n-roll the likes of which had never been heard before. My drums sounded like the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd world wars put together, along with a good dose of Armageddon.
And Grunt, on drums, is cooking. Chief is catchy and hooking and Colonel is good at gig booking.
Now I know what you are thinking. Why does a drummer like me that wears a flashy Sgt. Pepper outfit have a lowly name of Grunt? That's because like a real grunt I do all the hard work of driving the beat of our music but get very little of the credit. Of course our Point Man gets the dogz share of the credit since he's right out front with a microphone in his hand, that is, in addition to having a very loud mouth. The Colonel is helping me drive the music, but as a low down bassist he's cool, calm, and collected. It helps that he's an actual retired Colonel. As for Chief, well, what can I say about that guy. He has no eagle feathers but with that hair he sure looks like it. He has no loin cloth but he has been known to don a kilt (no kidding). I tried to get a glimpse up it to solve once and for all if kilts do or do not go with underwear, but it was too dark up there. But put a guitar in Chief's hands and he shows you that he was born to be a leader (as in lead guitar...try to keep up with me here). When you put all that together what do you get? Grunting out the beat while Chief looks like a wild man doing a rain dance meanwhile the loudest mouth is the squeakiest wheel and the Colonel is the low man on the Chief's totem pole. That's what I call ROCK AND ROLL!!!! -------------------------------------------------------------Entry Two The Colonel thinks he's the leader but there are too many Chiefs in the mix. The singer thinks he's on Point, but Grunt, his vocals, has to fix.
If the beat is found to be unsteady, well, doesn't that make the music more heady? And sometimes the singer sings off key, but, frankly, it's all white noise to me.
Krippled Dogz is a great little band. They hope to bring joy to the land. Music can sooth savage beasts. Our lyrics are leaven and yeast.
I think that you will see that this ditty is more like a dog than a kitty, because while we might snarl and growl Point Man is known to just howl.