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Showing posts with label Refreshments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Refreshments. Show all posts

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Art Edwards to let Buddy Out of the Cage for One Night In AZ in February!!!

One of the highlights of 2018 was watching the formation and ascendent star of Murphy's Outlaw.

This band consists of three of my best friends, two of which are former Refreshments and one a guy who was the lead singer of all of my AZ bands not the Refreshments. Despite the bass position of this band being more than ably manned by Mitch Cole, I couldn't help but watch on from Oregon and ... well, you know.

It seems my wish is being granted as I am officially scheduled to sit in for one night with Murphy's Outlaw on Friday, February 22nd at Scottsdale, Arizona's ROCK BAR.

I'm already starting to get a little geeky over this.

My understanding is you can get tickets at Rock Bar's Facebook Page and at their website.

Brian Blush asked me if I have any photos that might serve as appropriate. It took some digging, but I found an outtake from the Refreshments' first "photo shoot," the story of which you might find amusing.

In the summer of 1994, the Refreshments had our first LP Wheelie in the can. One problem: we didn't have a band photo.

You know, you're a band, and you want some cool, professional photo to put inside your CD. It's something bands do.

So, what do you do when you want a nice, professional photo of yourself? Why, go to Sears, of course!

As luck would have it, Sears had a sale, and the four of us put on our Sunday best and went to the Sears on (I believe) 44th and Camelback and threw down the credit card for the deluxe package.

It's probably one of my favorite memories of being in the band.

The young lady doing the shooting that day caught right on. "Which background would you like?"

"What are our choices?"

She started pulling down these tacky photo backgrounds, but I assure you, none was more tacky than the "space age" one that clearly dated from Star Wars time.

"That's the one."

So, we got all cozy--our little AZ rock and roll family getting its picture taken--and we came home that day (or back then probably had to go back and pick up a week later) with our photos.

The best one went into the inner sleeve of Wheelie. (I'm listening to Wheelie right now, incidentally. "Don't Wanna Know.") The second was a kind of outtake that found its way into some press stuff back in the day. Here's a partial.


That was 25 years ago. 

Wonder where I'll be in a year? How about 25?

Come see Murphy's Outlaw on February 22nd at Rock Bar and swing right along with Dustin Coleman Denham, Brian David Blush, James Allen Gerke, and of course, Arthur Eugene Edwards III.

Or Buddy.










Saturday, September 16, 2017

The Bottle and Fresh Horses - 20 Year Anniversary!!!

Yes, 20 years ago today the Refreshments second album The Bottle and Fresh Horses went on sale. I recently took an aural stroll through the album, and here are my notes.

“Tributary Otis”

The songs on this album I divide into three categories: songs we wrote and saved from before we recorded Fizzy (“Broken Record,” “Dolly,” “Wanted,” “Buy American,” “Una Soda”), songs we wrote while touring to support Fizzy (“Sin Nombre,” “Heaven of the Highway Out of Town”) and songs we wrote after touring for Fizzy (“Preachers,” “Fonder and Blonder,” “Birds Sing”). “Tributary Otis” strikes me as falling into the middle category, though I admit my memory fails me a bit on this point. It’s the first song on the album largely by default. I don’t think we recorded a strong opening track, and something had to go there.

I like the tune, with a couple of caveats. I’m especially fond of the bass line in the intro section, and the background vocals in the chorus and outro. Some of the vocal notes were barely in my range, so I'm happy they came out at all. I feel like this was the first song where Roger internalized that he had to write at least two verses for each of his songs. I listen to this second verse and picture him carefully testing the waters of this new approach. My absolute favorite part of the song is the intro C and D chords that start it. In hindsight, I wish we’d ended the song the same way.

“Preacher’s Daughter”

A good rocker, and a “new” song for us at the time. The backing vocals in the chorus, improvised by Roger in the studio, never quite worked for me, and I struggled to sing them live.

My favorite parts of the song are the breaks right before and after the solo. During pre-production for the recording, we were taking the second chorus straight into the solo, and I suggested we try this pause instead. We ran the idea once and Brian sneakily put that wah-wah lick where the pause was supposed to go, which won me over. Roger’s guitar sounds great on this track. The feel of the second half of the solo could've been lifted off half of the songs from New Miserable Experience. The spastic, double-time ending is very Green Day, a band we all liked.

“Wanted”

One of the oldest songs on Bottle, “Wanted” came to life in the era that also brought us “Buy American” and “Dolly.” It was a staple for the band’s live show from well before Fizzy, even as early as 1994 when we played it as our leadoff song for the Ticketmaster Battle of the Bands contest finals. Roger brought this one to the basement with a more elaborate bridge—actually, a second bridge after the one you hear in the song. The excised bridge involved a complete time/tempo change, akin to something a mariachi band might play. Roger had trouble conveying his idea, and the rest of us encouraged him to abandon it. I wish we’d taken the time to flesh it out now. “Wanted” struck me as a surefire hit at the time of its inception, and now I think it blends in a little too well with the rest of our material. A drop-dead, game-changing second bridge could’ve changed that. I love the backing vocals for the first half of the chorus, but I’ve never liked the segment in the second half where I follow Roger up as he goes falsetto. I wish I had that one back. Finally, the “party on” segment falls a little flat as well, except for the great Roger freakout at the end.

“Sin Nombre”

This is the best sounding song on the album. I love the drum intro, and the moan Paul Leary left in from Roger warming up for a vocal take. I like the harmonies in the chorus as well, with Roger going low at its beginning and me singing the high part. Blush’s solo is just blistering. I think this track comes off as well as any on the album. It’s a track essentially about being depressed—very apt considering where we were individually at the time of recording.

Written while touring to support Fizzy, this track was a favorite of mine to play the role of “Nada” or “Don’t Wanna Know” on Bottle. Sadly, it never quite measured up to the Fizzy “ballads.” It’s more existential than those songs; there’s little romance to its lament. Finally, my vocal-out was something I pushed to have included. I was trying my best to do a Mike Mills thing at the end, and like much on this album, it didn’t quite work. I wished I’d either sung the whole line or kept my mouth shut.

“Heaven or the Highway Out of Town”

This was clearly one of Blush’s best songs from the time he brought it into the practice room. I’m partial to rockers, and this became one of my favorites to play live. Also, I think it’s one of the strongest recordings on Bottle, right up there with “Sin Nombre.” Traditionally, backing vocals in a chorus are sung two steps higher than the main vocal. In the chorus of “Heaven,” Roger and I switch roles, so he’s singing the high part and I’m singing the low or “main” part. Then at the end of the chorus, I go back to singing a higher, more traditional backing vocal part. The harmonies in the chorus of the Gin Blossoms’ “Follow You Down” were no doubt an influence.

The slot machine sounds at the beginning were producer Paul Leary’s addition, which Blush of course loved. The bass in the solo section was a don’t-give-a-shit-what-anyone-else-is playing moment รก la the end of “Banditos” or “Mekong.” Roger and I had a “na-na-na” line we tried to incorporate at the end of the song, but we had trouble nailing it, and I don’t think Blush cared too much for us singing over his solo-out. Again, the song suffers a bit for basically repeating the same verse twice, a common band malady. I remember how tough it was sometimes to come up with at least two great verses, but I now wish we'd managed it. Still, this song still works for me.

“Buy American”

One day probably in 1994 Roger came to practice and said, “Dude, play this bass line.” He showed it to me, and it sounded great. From there, Roger sang words over the top, and everyone joined in for the chorus. The song, “Buy American,” would be part of our regular Tempe set from quite a while. Roger co-oped the line “Buy American” from a Dead Hot Workshop song called “Saddamizing Hussein.” He even sings the line like Babb sings it in the Dead Hot song.

We transformed the song quite a bit when P.H. came aboard. We were anxious to somehow feature more of P.H.’s skills on Bottle, and the intro of “Buy American” was one such place. We all liked this track, and we expected it to shine a little brighter than it eventually did on Bottle. Having only one verse is again an issue, so much so that I tried to incorporate a Mike Mills-like backing part over the second verse. In the end, that idea was largely vetoed, with my echo of Roger’s line “Come along, there's a little something in it for you” the only remnant left. The chorus made total sense when Roger brought the song into the basement, but playing it live over an extended period resulted in a mutation of it. After much debate, we decided to record the mutation instead of the way the lines were originally written. Keep your clothes still on, everyone.

“Dolly”

This is another pre-Fizzy song we kept as a holdover for Bottle so we wouldn’t be forced to build our sophomore album from scratch. I still like the plan, but in the end it helped lead to recordings that were a notch below what we’d hoped for them. “Dolly” falls into this category for me. It already felt like an old song by the time we recorded it for Bottle, and I think it shows. Also, the backing vocals (bet you didn’t know these records were all about the backing vocals, did you) sound over-produced, which I think is the result of me not quite nailing them in the studio. I had a tendency to slide up to notes when a more direct approach was needed (see the pre-chorus), which may have been the problem here.

Still, Roger kills the second verse with his vocal take, again covering up for the lack of a second verse, but that kind of performance trumps anything.

“Good Year”

I’m only going to write some positive things about “Good Year,” because I've heard enough negative stuff about it.

I was excited that this track incorporated a dual lead vocal of Roger and me. This was the only time we ever tried anything like that, and I was always up for singing more. Today, I would change a few things about my part, but overall I'm glad it's there.

“Good Year” isn’t some kind of natural disaster. It has some interesting verse lyrics and a clever turn of phrase in the chorus, but it does tread closely to eighties glam metal, especially in the intro. Not the vibe you wanted to invoke in 1997, but this song—mind-bogglingly—was what the label wanted as the first single, and what the label wants...

“Fonder and Blonder”

We rarely played “Fonder” live, either before or after the release of Bottle. The track has the feel of a ballad-y single, for which there was never much of a demand amongst the four of us, but I always felt like the Refreshments could nail a quieter, more sincere number that wins over people who would never embrace “Banditos.” I also like the harmonies in the pre-chorus. Once again, the backing vocal parts are barely in my range, but I think they came out sounding well enough. I also love the bass lick in the third pre-chorus, just enough puckishness to remind you we hadn’t lost our sense of humor.

“Birds Sing”

Roger nailed the lead vocal, as well as the “demons in your head” addition. The track feels a little quick to me, played like the band can’t wait to get it over with. I slowed it down quite a bit when I re-recorded it years later. As much as I love the song, it sounds a little simple now, which isn’t helped by its lack of a third verse. Years later, I changed the second half of the third verse to “And if those things I did and said/Are still ringing in your head.” Anything to avoid the repetition of the first verse.

I'm grateful the track made the album. I wouldn't have liked supporting an album with none of my songs on it, and before I cranked this one out late in pre-production, that was looking like the case.

“Horses”

“Horses” has what in modern parlance you might call a backing vocal bomb. Roger composed “Horses” as a sincere country ballad. Just before it was time to record the backing vocals, I went into the studio kitchen and grabbed the tequila bottle. I took one shot, then two, then went into the soundproof vocal room. “Ready,” I said to producer Paul Leary.

The next ten or so minutes were my craziest vocal moments ever in the studio. I just took out all of my frustrations on that song. The version of the backing vocals you hear on the album is my second take. My first was so spastic I asked Producer Leary to cut it, which he did reluctantly. With the ice broken, everyone joined in on the vocal fun, including Brian and P.H., and the result is one of the few pleasant surprises on the album. “Horses” is a cartoonish, cry-in-your-beer country song in the same way that “Mexico” is a cartoonish, white-guy mariachi song. Still, without the special backing vocal treatment, it might not have made the record.

“Broken Record”

“Broken Record” was always one of my favorite songs to play live, but when it came time to record it for Bottle, everyone seemed anxious to take it to another level. The decision to alter the later chorus rhythm tracks was one we all participated in and were excited about. We tried many variations, but once Brian added his wah-wah lick, we knew we had a winner. The last chorus is supposed to be Roger, Brian, and me playing our parts at the exact wrong moments, kind of like when a crowd is clapping along to song and one person is clapping on the wrong beat.

As much as I like the song, it shocks me in retrospect how much “Broken Record” resembles “Suckerpunch” in style and sentiment, and I can’t help but notice how easily some of Bottle’s songs could be seen as lessor versions of similar songs on Fizzy. Seen in that light, “Broken Record” is the one track on Bottle I feel is better than its “sister” song on Fizzy. It might be the only such example on the album. Too bad we couldn’t get it any higher than track 12 on the album. I would’ve been happy had it been the first single.

“Una Soda”

This is another holdover Roger song from his Mortals days, and it has its obvious charm. Its story line is strong, and there’s much here for a Refreshments fan to relate to. Still,“Una Soda” rarely made our live set, so once we recorded it, it was pretty much gone. I remember substituting it for “Nada” one night on the road in 1997—maybe Denver?—and that was perhaps the only time the track took precedence over that other more defining song from our history. That’s a lot to compete against, but we weren’t about to slow the set down that far twice in one night.

I’d love to edit the the track down to four minutes, delete some of the more basic strumming parts and get to that wonderful bridge a little quicker. You’ll be shocked to know I also love the harmonies in the bridge. (That backing vocalist is something, isn’t he?)

B-Side Bonus Track

“Uh Oh”

What I love most about “Uh Oh” is that it was a coming-together of the four of us during the writing process, as opposed to one member bringing in a song that the rest of us had to learn and refine. I think you can hear the fun we're having on the track. It sounds like four guys having a good time, as opposed to four guys hammering through a rote performance and going home. The main reason the track was a B-side is that no one wanted to deal with the legal hassle of getting all those the other acts to sign off on our right to use their copyrightable material in our song. It would’ve cost a lot in legal fees alone to go through that process, so I get why we did what we did, but in retrospect I think it was the wrong call. I think this song was our one real chance at a hit single from this album. Still, it's more of a novelty song than even “Banditos,” and it would’ve tilted us even closer to Barenaked Ladies land than I think we would’ve liked. We liked to think of ourselves as an original band with original songs. It’s all right there in the chorus.

Also, I love the bridge, and—surprise!—the backing vocals!

Read my comments on the 20th anniversary of Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big & Buzzy.

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big & Buzzy - 20 Year Anniversary

My band's debut album for Mercury Records, Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big and Buzzy, came out 20 years ago today, so I thought I'd give the whole thing a listen--plus the B-sides!--and jot down whatever pops into my head.

The Album

“Blue Collar Suicide” 

This is an old Roger song from his time in the Mortals. It came together while recording Fizzy when Roger played the track’s rhythm guitar part and P.H. gave it the Bo Diddley treatment. We all instantly knew we had a new track for the album and worked it out on the spot. The only change in arrangement from the Mortals’ version of the song is the addition of the bridge/solo section, which we also worked out on the spot. Our plan with Fizzy was to more or less re-record the tracks of Wheelie for Mercury with better production values, but I don’t think anyone in the band felt good about simply repeating Wheelie with our Mercury debut. “Blue Collar” made it so we wouldn’t just offer up Wheelie Again to our hardcore fans, but instead improved upon it. That this song was lively enough also to be the first track on the album was an added bonus. The Refreshments were the kind of band that rehearsed every song until it was note-for-note done, meaning there was little room for exciting things to happen in the studio. Still, wherever we went into the studio, I wanted something unplanned to happen. This song was the big surprise of the session.

By the way, the last bit of bass noise on the track is me slapping all of the open strings once and letting them ring for a second before muting them. Now you know.

“European Swallow” 

The title always sounds suggestive, which makes sense considering the song’s content, but really it’s a reference to Monty Python’s The Holy Grail. There’s no good reason for this reference, other than the fact that band often liked to quote old movies in the basement during the Dusty era, and somehow it stuck as the title. The Fizzy recording of this track has one big issue for me. That’s me singing backing vocals on the chorus. Dusty, who had been our backing vocalist, was thrown out a month or two before recording, and I really didn't want to repeat Dusty’s backing vocal lines verbatim. I felt there were a few backing vocal elements on this track that were distinctly Dusty’s, and I went out of my way not to repeat them. One is during this chorus, in particular after the second line. On this track on Wheelie, Dusty added a nice little melodic element after “want me to.” For this version, I took it off, to the song’s detriment. It’s a little thing, but it’s something I notice every time. I wish I’d just sung Dusty’s line.

I like that “Swallow” is a quintessential cut from our club days. The track’s a bit long, even by 1996 standards, but the storyline and chorus are distinct enough to have it front and center on the album. I think it helps make Fizzy not just a bunch of singles but one album-y piece of work. It’s also the grooviest song in our distinctly non-groovy band. If I had it to do over again today, I’d lobby to edit it.

"Down Together"

One of my favorite Refreshment tracks, this tune was one of the five Roger brought back from the ranch where he spent the summer of 1993. It was clearly one of the songs that acted as a guide to our aesthetic, and it boasts the best bridge section of any Refreshments song. Its charm is apparent, with its simple repeating melody and the narrator unraveling the wealth of possibilities for him and his love. So many classic lines. It really needed very little but Roger’s contribution, but I’ve always been proud of the backing vocals, especially in the bridge. The highest note is out of my range, but producer Clif Norrell stuck with me for several takes.

I’m shocked by how much Clif played with effects in the studio on this one. There’s a great deal of farfisa organ, monkeying with the guitar track, and the repeating piano lick in the second half of the chorus. I also remember Clif making me play with a pick on this one during the verses, an idea I was not crazy about. Finally, the chorus only comes around twice. Maybe that’s why this second single didn’t do as well as the first. Still, at 4:24, adding another chorus would’ve meant losing one of those fun verses. No regrets, coyote.

“Mekong” 

If there’s one song that represents the Refreshments at their most complete, it’s this one. The tune moves seamlessly from Outlandos D’Amour-style reggae to Still Feel Gone cowpunk. The verses incorporate great lyrical moments culled from Roger’s Southeast Asia trip in 1993, and its chorus is as genuinely anthemic as any thing on a Skynyrd album. Anyone who made it to track four on this album knew that we weren’t just some novelty act but one that could have genuinely soulful moments. Again, this is Roger at the top of his game, but I feel like the bass line is its own statement. It’s the one song we wrote when I did not give a shit what anyone else was playing. My attitude was, “This is the bass line, deal with it.” The song’s rhythm is probably as close as we came to Camper Van Beethoven, a band that acted as a very early model for us. Not to beat a dead horse, but I’m again very proud of the backing vocals, even if I elaborated on them live later. I wish I’d sung backing vocals on every other line of the second verse, which is something I regularly did live. (I did manage to get the last line in there.) Also live, I regularly altered the backing vocals on the last pass of the last chorus as well. You only get one shot at the record.

“Don’t Wanna Know”

This was a Mortals song I never heard the Mortals play. The sentiment in the verses is one any musician from any band can relate to, trying to keep your spirits up on a night when maybe you’re not the hottest ticket in town, and I loved it from the first time Roger played it in the basement. I don’t want to keep up with the backing vocals obsession, but it’s the one area where a song can truly exceed a band’s expectations in the studio. Dusty sang along with Roger in the second verse, which always sounded great, so I kept that up. I also started singing the second half of the first verse along with Roger, which I loved as well. Since I started as the band’s backing vocalist a mere month before this recording, I’m always pleased to hear them sound okay.

Brian has some particularly memorable parts in here as well, like the violin-like guitar sounds in the second chorus. When Blush excelled, I called his parts “Richrathian,” after REO Speedwagon’s late guitarist Gary Richrath, who also sported a Les Paul and a similarly tasty tone. I think the main hook of this one qualifies as Richrathian. The tune speaks for a lot of people who maybe wonder too much, or not enough, about where they’ll be in a year. Keep the faith.

“Girly”

If I have any ill feelings towards “Girly,” it’s because it was the third single off this album, and I think in retrospect it’s a bit one-dimensional compared to some of the other possibilities. We closed most of our shows with it back in the day, and I liked playing the bass behind my head during the solo parts, but the song sounds thin to me today. Of course, Blush’s main lick is deadly, and the violence in the main storyline is just perverse enough to work. Blush really loved it, and Roger, for all of his avoidance of some of our earlier material he seemed to find too risque, didn’t mind it either. 

I kept the bass line very simple for the studio version. I think I wanted to differentiate it from “Carefree,” the other swing tune on the album, which has a busier line. We’d played “Girly” a thousand times by the time we recorded it for Fizzy, and I just couldn’t quite hear it anymore. It lacks a bridge, or any variance in the verse, save Roger’s ad lib at the end of the third verse, which I remember being not quite as impactful as the one on the Wheelie version. Still, for all my bitching, it’s hardly the worst song we ever recorded.

“Banditos”

I loved this song from the first time Roger spoke the chorus to me one day while driving us home from band practice. It’s down-to-earth, rockin’, memorable, and never more true. No one I’ve met in the 20 years since recognizes the track by name, but many know the chorus.

The production of the song sounds thin to me. We went into Ocean Way in 1995 hoping we’d come out with something that sounded like a Brendan O’Brien album, and this definitely isn’t that. Still, it obviously did the trick. I’ve always been proud of the bass during the end solo section. Like “Mekong,” I discovered my part, stuck with it, and didn’t care what anyone else was doing. The end of the song sounds like the controlled chaos I loved from our early live sets. No one is listening to anyone else, but the wheels stay on the tracks just enough to keep the song moving forward. 

The subsequent video was a lot of fun to shoot, and was easily our finest moment in the video world. The video got regular play on MTV during the summer of 1996, and KROX even added the song for an L.A. minute that same season. Finally, the song was the number one song of 1996—that’s the number one song of the year—at KNRK in Portland, Oregon, a good association with the Refreshments and my adopted hometown.

“Mexico” 

The song was titled “B.O.B.A.” on Wheelie, which stood for “Buffett on Bad Acid,” and was wisely renamed to its more obvious signifier for Fizzy. We of course had to add mariachi style horns to it—it was the absolute right thing to do—but I feel like the track loses something of its original drunken silliness with the drowning out of Brian’s guitar in the beginning.   

The verse of “Mexico” was written in a rare songwriting collaboration between Roger and me. Yes, I’m the creative genius behind the “lures/bobbers” and “hooker/erection” lines. These are easily the most heard of any words I’ve ever written, no doubt finishing slightly ahead of “Carefree.” I love that some of the spontaneity of the song is preserved in this recording. The lyrics to me always and forever sound like they were created off-the-cuff over beers, and indeed they were.

Once the nonsensical verse was finished, Roger and I had a competition to see who could write the best chorus for the song. I showed up to his place the next day with my chorus in tow. He said, “Who goes first?” I said, “You.” He played his chorus, and my chorus was never heard from again. As much as I like that this song is out there, I’m very thankful I don’t have to play it 100 nights a year for the rest of my life. Ole!

“Interstate” 

Typically, when Roger brought in a song, it was pretty close to finished, and all the band members had to do was make a snip here, a snip there, add their parts. “Interstate” is a special song for me because it was a song brought in by Roger that was reworked significantly afterwards, creating something better than it would’ve been otherwise. It was a little one-dimensional when it came into the basement. Those intro chords were just one chord, G major, over and over. Even after reworking the chords and some of the feel, Roger only sang one verse until we took the song into Ocean Way to record it for Fizzy. I eventually got tired of nagging him to write at least a second verse and wrote my own which, surprising to me, met his approval. He doctored the words a little to make them feel more natural to him, but I will take credit for the Tempe music homage in the second verse of “Interstate.”

That’s Roger and not me singing background. I can’t remember why.

At five and a half minutes, and repeating the first verse for the third, I’m surprised this didn’t get drastically edited at the time, probably because there was a good chance it wouldn’t make the album. I bet folks skip this track when listening to the whole thing today. Our penchant for repeating one verse over and over again was something Roger and I defended at the time, citing Gordon Gano, but most of Gano’s songs don’t stand the test of time either.

“Suckerpunch” 

Around the time of recording Wheelie, we thought “Suckerpunch” would be the first single off our first major label record, but something happened in the year between Wheelie and Fizzy that made us lose a little faith in the song. For one, we edited it drastically from the Wheelie version, trying to get it more into a single form, and it lost something in translation. That chorus is great, but somehow we only manage to get to it twice. I feel like it needs a bridge or something.

Again, Roger sings the backing vocals. I seem to recall he had a specific idea for the end, and just did it.

This version feels light and quick, making it seem more like a jingle than a song. I felt that at the time of the recording as well, and if I had it to do over again I would’ve lobbied hard to make this track a B-side, replacing it on side two with “Psychosis.” I knew that would’ve been a tough fight. Roger didn’t like “Psychosis.” Besides, Mercury liked “Suckerpunch,” which meant there was still a chance it would be a single. I can’t imagine what they would’ve done if we’d delivered an album without “Suckerpunch,” but I wish we would’ve found out.

“Carefree” 

It’s my most famous song—my most famous anything—so you’re not going to hear me say anything bad about it. It’s obviously simple: two verses, one chorus, guitar solo. The guys disliked the edit to the first chorus—halving it from the Wheelie version—and I agree with them. They also didn’t like that the last chorus going an extra half, which I disagree with. In later bands, I played the full chorus the first two times around, then played the chorus and a half to end it.

I have fond memories of piano player Skip Edwards recording on this one. I kept trying to get Clif to get him to put his foot up on the piano like Jerry Lee Lewis while he played—especially at the end. I felt that would’ve given the tune the right feel, but Skip wasn’t really that kind of dude.

This is one of the best backing vocal tracks. Very present, and pushing Roger’s vocal to be even more brilliant. There’s an ever-present clickity-clack going on throughout the song. That’s P.H. with a pair of drum sticks playing, I believe, the back of a metal chair. Once, a guy approached me at the Yucca Tap Room and said, “That tune’s about a blow job, isn’t it?” I think of it as a song more about subtle manipulation, but sure, a blow job.

“Nada”

The spiritual center of the album, and of the Refreshments. It always reminds me of a night in the desert jamming and drinking with Roger and Dusty, staring up at the full moon, Dusty belting out “Lady” by Styx. Having said that, for the last three years of the band I found this track pretty boring to play live. It’s long, there’s not much to the bass line, no backing vocals. Still, I knew how important the song was to our fans, that Roger and Brian’s parts are great, so it was hard to vocalize any dissent. Still, I was happy on the rare night it was left off the set list, sometimes replaced by “Una Soda.”

That’s P.H. on the bongos in the background. That's Blush’s best lead on the record, and the guitar pyrotechnics at the end of that last verse are the perfect studio touch. We were all waiting for our coal black souls to come alive, and with this track, they did.

Fizzy B-Sides

“Psychosis”

I remember seeing Roger and Dusty’s band the Mortals at Chuy’s one night in 1992. It was one of Chuy’s Wednesday night shows, with the Mortals going on first before two other bands. I stood at the center-back of the club and watched Roger as he sang this song, thinking, “I’d love to play that tune.” When Dusty first brought up the idea of contacting Roger to jam, my first thought was, “At least I’ll get to play that graveyard song."

“Psychosis” was one of the original five songs we played at our first practice, and it was always a favorite of mine to play live. Like a few of our original songs, Roger grew to dislike it, so we phased it out. Still, when Roger expressed dismay about recording it for the Fizzy sessions, I said, “Sing this song one more time, and I swear to God I’ll never ask you to sing it again.”

Clif Norrell lobbied for this cut to make the album, claiming it gave Fizzy more depth. Like I said above, if I had it to do over again, I’d substitute “Psychosis” for “Suckerpunch.” The real fear was that Mercury would somehow hear “Psychosis” as a single. It was still very grunge out there in 1996, and I wouldn’t have put it past someone at the company to lobby hard for the song to compete on that level, which would’ve been disastrous from our end. The one way to make sure it wasn’t a single was not to include it on the album, so we didn’t include it.

“Feeling”

The lone bass-intro song in our catalog, “Feeling” was one of the five songs Roger wrote the summer of 1993 while he stayed out on his grandparent’s ranch (along with “Down Together,” “My Penis,” “Clown” and … sorry, can’t remember, but I know it was five). It was a staple of our live set in 1994, but quickly found its way to secondary status as we started writing the material that would eventually go on our second Mercury record. I’ve always liked the lyric, the sort of clumsy walk of the bass line, the bass run during the solo. I also remember, once we signed him on, P.H. struggled to get the feel of this one, which may have been another reason why it found itself on the permanent B-list. 

There was never any real talk of “Feeling” making Fizzy, and I still think that’s the right call. It just wasn’t as strong as our other material. But again, I’m happy we got the track down for posterity. I’d hate to think it was lost forever.

See my comments on the 20th anniversary of The Bottle & Fresh Horses.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Watch the Book Trailer for Badge.




Buy Badge.


Friday, May 15, 2015

The Ten Reasons Why I'm Turning my Refreshments Memoir into a Novel

I have decided to turn my memoir-in-progress Nineteen Ways to Destroy Your Rock Band: My Life in the Refreshments into a novel. There are exactly ten reasons for this change.

 Reason #1:

Despite a few hundred folks within my circle, there is not much demand for a Refreshments memoir. I know this because I have tried to sell it. Many in the industry love the idea for my memoir outside the Refreshments aspect, which they don't care for because we weren't the Beatles. Solution? Take the Refreshments out.

Reason #2:

The finished, polished memoir is all of 48k. This is too small. The process of fictionalizing it has freed me up to explore ideas I would avoid if it were a memoir, which means I can get this thing to 60k, which is where it needs to be. No more novellas ever.

Reason #3:

I'm very intrigued by the recent-ish trend in fiction to write more or less straight memoir a la Knausgaard, Tao Lin, David Shields, etc. as novel. I call this Barely Fiction. It used to be you'd write fiction to embellish an idea. Now, many write fiction when they want to tell the truth. This is complicated, but it excites me as a writer.

Reason #4

This means I can have a novel finished by next year!

Reason #5:

It also means I can give One Star--what would become my fifth novel--the time necessary to make it wham-o.

Reason #6:

I've always had a problem with being a little ahead of the curve when it comes to, ahem, market readiness. I released Stuck Outside of Phoenix, set in 1990, in 2003. My second, Ghost Notes, set in 1995, was released in 2008. My third, Badge, set in 2000, came out in 2014. That's really too soon on all three accounts for enough people to feel nostalgia for these eras. This change would put my Barely Fiction effort, set 1993-1998, out in 2017-18, and would have One Star, set in 2005, out in the 2020s. This all makes more sense to me.

Reason #7:

Everyone reads my novels like they're memoirs anyway!

Reason #8:

It allows me to skip the baggage of having to write about real people, giving me just enough cover to make the book more interesting.

Reason #9:

Did I already mention that no one wants to publish the memoir?

Reason #10:

I'll take truth over fact any day.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art


Watch the Book Trailer for Badge.




Buy Badge.


Tuesday, March 4, 2014

New Badge Podcast, New Piece on Rock Novels, and here comes AZ, LA and SF!!!

The fun just doesn't stop here at Badge Central.

First up, here's a podcast of me chatting for a half hour with Ben Tanzer, whose VIDA reading at AWP was so good I almost cried. Ben and I chat Badge, The Refreshments, writing and Novel Four.

Also, here's a piece I wrote about my problems with the term "rock novel" that The Nervous Breakdown published on Sunday. Help us find a replacement for this woefully stupid monicker!

Finally, this is my last week at home before I head to AZ and CA for Badge Tour 2014. Check out the tour's dates and make sure you hit one.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Watch the Book Trailer for Badge.



Buy Badge.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Your Last Week to Contribute to Badge's Kickstarter Campaign, Plus New Reward!!!

This is it, folks. If you've been on the fence about my Kickstarter campaign to fund my third novel Badge, it's time to help push it over the top! We've still got a few days, but boy would a few contributions today make a big difference. 

I've also included a new reward! It's called the Aspiring Writer, and it's for folks who want me to critique their novel or nonfiction manuscripts. You'll get my line-by-line edits of your book (up to 80,000 words) and an extensive, detailed assessment that will tell you what's working, what isn't, and how to fix it. The contribution level for this is $1,000, which is in line with what you'd likely be quoted on the open market. And here's the beautiful part: If you contribute at this level, you'll have up to two years to get your manuscript together! What more motivation do you need to finally get started on that book now? Contribute!

And did you read the first chapter of Badge?

And did you read the essay I published last week at this blog about golfing with the Refreshments? 

And did you read my essay published in The Rumpus last week about packaging in all its glory? 

Folks, this is my last blog before this thing is over. Whether I publish a victory blog next week or give my concession speech is largely in your hands. Please contribute.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Contribute to the Kickstarter campaign for my third novel Badge.


Tuesday, June 4, 2013

My Life in Golf

Golf, I will love you forever, I will never play you again.

My relationship with this bitch goddess of a pastime started when I was 16. I desperately wanted a job that didn't require my attendance on Friday and Saturday nights--when all the partying was happening--and I got a job at the Indian Bluff Public Golf Course in Milan, Illinois, where my grandpa golfed every day. I washed carts, filled soda machines and generally did what was asked of me, as much as any teenager does what's asked of him.

The people who worked at the course didn't take a shining to me. I'm not sure why. My wardrobe of Van Halen T-shirt and cut-off shorts--not to mention the earring I got shortly after being hired--probably didn't impress anyone. This hurt a little, but I was too concerned with what was going on on Friday and Saturday nights--girls, beer, playing music in my cover band--to care too much about it.

One of the fringe benefits of working at Indian Bluff was that I got to golf as much as I wanted for free (golf cart included). If my namesake meant anything, I would become quite a golfer. My grandpa, Art Edwards Sr., was good enough to once flirt with playing professionally. My dad, Art Jr., was a big hitter. I marveled at his long drives, even if they weren't always straight down the fairway. I'd golfed a little before I'd gotten the job at Indian Bluff, enough to know I needed practice. Now I had a free pass to golf every day. It was my chance to get good.

And I had one marked advantage in this game, according to my grandpa. I was left-handed, which meant if I golfed right-handed, my strong hand could sit at the top of the club, allowing for more torque during my swings. It was about time being left-handed--which my dad had tried to "cure" me of at one point--proved an advantage.

I enjoyed taking my whacks that summer, walking the course. I liked trying to figure out which club would yield the best result. I'd often duff or “worm-burn” shots off the tee, only to lambaste the next one from the fairway. My chipping was a nightmare, often resulting in two or three jerky strokes to get the ball onto the green. On my first hole of my first round at Indian Bluff, I sank an eight-foot putt, which led me to believe putting was the best aspect of my game. I estimate one out of every three of my shots went the way it was supposed to go. The others veered in some random or unbecoming direction. I averaged 110 per round.

Any golfer will tell you 110 per round is not something you want, and everyone tried to help. Once, during a particularly bad round with Art Sr. and Jr., it was discovered that my wrong, lower, right hand took over during my swings. When golfing right-handed, the right hand is supposed to “just sort of come along for the ride,” my dad said. My hands were doing each other's jobs. So much for my left-handedness helping me.

That fall, when Indian Bluff closed for the year, I told my boss I wouldn't back the next spring. No one begged me to stay.

I didn't give golf much of a thought for years. I graduated from high school, went to junior college, played rock music, moved to Arizona, got involved in the Tempe music scene, graduated from A.S.U., got married, and became a founding member of a band that signed a two-album deal with Mercury Records. 1996 found the single from our first album on the radio and the band touring the country. In 1997, waiting for our second record to come out, the band had a lot of time on its hands. Our drummer, P.H., was quite a golfer, and someone came up with the idea that we should all golf together. This was, after all, the Hootie decade.

We golfed a few times as a foursome that summer. I don't know how we got Brian, our guitar player, to go along with it, but he dutifully showed up in trucker's cap and soul-concealing sunglasses. Roger, our lead singer, seemed uncomfortable with the whole concept of golf, but he played anyway. P.H. put his golf shoes on in the parking lot. Hearing his spikes crunch the pavement, I realized too late my sandals probably weren't the best choice for the day.

We were all pretty bad, except for P.H., whose hits were all elegance, an old-money swing bred in Chicago's suburbs, his fairway shots yielding the correct amount of arc, his pitches landing with a thump on the green. Roger seemed befuddled by the game, taking swings that sometimes yielded nothing but his ball trickling to the left or right. Brian cracked his first Miller High Life by the second hole.

I was stoked to get another shot at the links. It'd been ten years since I'd quit Indian Bluff, and I felt like being married and somewhat settled might translate into a quieter, less neurotic game.

It was not to be so. I still had a weirdly excited swing that yielded worm-burns or worse from the tee. I remember once hooking a drive so drastically it threatened cars driving by on Dobson Road. My pitching was atrocious, despite following to the letter P.H.'s instructions about a more open stance. And I couldn't back up my earlier bravado on the putting green. One time in the fairway, I missed the ball entirely, causing an embarrassed silence amongst my foursome. That summer I once again averaged 110 per round. It was a relief when our second record came out and we had to hit the road. There would be no room for golf bags on the tour bus.

In the wake of this period, I took a more contrarian view of the game. Who cared if I wasn't any good? Golf was evil anyway. What activity better symbolized the gross extravagance of our society? The Phoenix area has 132 golf courses. All that water to keep those fairways green, an environmental travesty. If you're going to suck at something, it might as well be something that's just plain wrong in the first place. I quit the game, losing my clubs in the junk corner of our garage and all but forgetting about them.

My band broke up in 1998, and my wife Kel and I moved to San Francisco, where we both worked day jobs while taking art and writing classes at night. When I finished my degree, we moved 350 miles north to Ashland, Oregon, where I spent my days writing and Kel making and selling her art work. In 2007, business was going well enough that, when an artist friend asked me to go golfing, I said yes.

By this time, golf had intrigued me on a different level. In 1999, while combing the fiction shelves of a used bookstore in Sausalito, I came across the U section, which was dominated by John Updike. I'd been avoiding Updike's work for years, believing--without actually reading any of it--there was something staid and conventional about it. He seemed boring compared to the modernists, who got more lip service in college classes. Still, I knew Updike's fiction had been ubiquitous during the last half-century. That day in Sausalito, I gave in and bought a copy of Rabbit, Run.

It would not be an exaggeration to say the next decade of my reading life was dedicated to reading Updike from end to end. Among the thousands of things Updike wrote well about, he was a master at writing about golf, teasing out the game's beauty with his words. I was somewhere toward the end of my Updike phase when my artist friend asked me to play and, my head full of Updikean tropes, I couldn't wait.

So, did my game change? Was it any different at 36 years old than it had been at 26 or 16? The sad part of this story is that my golf game altered not one lick during any of these decades. I still hit worm-burners off the tee. I was hit-and-miss out of the fairway, and I couldn't find my asshole with a pitching wedge. My friend of course helped, and I did my best to do what he said. Nothing seemed to work. Once, I got so mad I launched my three-iron boomerang style into the distance. It went farther than most of my shots that day.

Still, my frustration didn't come without a consolation prize. During one round, I discovered my problem with golf: It's all in the divot.

When I swing a golf club, I have a natural, instinctual aversion to causing a divot in the grass. For some reason, I'm squeamish about digging out a chunk of earth. It's not some hyper-environmental concern or anything like that. I just don't like the way it feels to dig up the earth with a golf club. This causes me to pull up ever so slightly when I swing, and this adjustment drastically affects the way I hit the ball. All those worm-burners--I was topping the ball because of my aversion to hitting the ground. Repeated swings proved my theory valid. It's an ingrained flaw, and it pretty much means I'll never be a decent golfer. As time has passed, I've learned to accept this. The golf gods aren't my gods, and that's okay. It's going to have to be.

Still, I look on fondly when I drive past courses, watching a golfer ease back his club, head down, nice follow-through. It's like a poem written in a language I'll never understand, but the sound of the words no less beautiful for that reason.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Contribute to the Kickstarter campaign for my third novel Badge.


Monday, March 25, 2013

Mexico in June

I know a lot of people want details about why I'm not going to be in Mexico in June. Suffice it to say my focus is elsewhere these days, with my many projects and my life in Portland. Mostly, I don't want it to take away from the May 2nd premiere of Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie. I won't have anything else to say about it other than I hope everyone has a good time.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Check out the Trailer for Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie, which will premiere in Tempe in early 2013.



Or try Stuck Outside of Phoenix in print form for just $5.

Or try Stuck for your Kindle for just $2.99.

Monday, December 3, 2012

2012 Nonfiction Pieces Posted at My Website

I've posted a couple of essays at my website that have never before been available online. The first originally appeared in The Writer, and it explores the difference between fiction and non- by asking questions like, "What if Moby-Dick were a memoir?"

The second is a personal essay about my decision in 2009 not to mention a certain band's name in any of my marketing material. The essay is called "No Refreshments will be Served," and it originally appeared in Pear Noir!

So, have at 'em!

Try Stuck Outside of Phoenix in print form for just $5.

Or try Stuck for your Kindle for just $2.99.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Stuck the Movie Timeline

It's hard to believe I'll be watching a movie version of Stuck Outside of Phoenix in less than two months. Very surreal. I first brought this project up to Nico Holthaus in May of 2010. That's about two and a half years from conception to (God willing) fruition. For me, that's major quick. I quit the Refreshments in 1998. Stuck the Novel came out in 2003. Ghost Notes and Songs from Memory came out in 2008...You can see how long it takes me to finish a major project. That something this big and complicated is getting done in half that time is a testament to Nico, and to everyone in the cast and crew for doing what it takes.

Thank you all.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Try Stuck Outside of Phoenix in print form for just $5.

Or try Stuck for your Kindle for just $2.99.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Is Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big and Buzzy Gold Yet?

Most importantly, Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie is still on track to start shooting on April 7th. That's this week! It's a Nico miracle we made it this far. I'll keep you posted here on developments as the shooting progresses.

Secondly, I get asked occasionally if/when the Refreshments' debut album Fizzy, Fuzzy, Big and Buzzy will go gold. For those unfamiliar with gold record status, it's when an album has shipped 500,000 copies from the record company to retailers (or at least that's what it used to be). No one know for sure except the record company (in our case, Mercury) how many units an album has shipped. That zero records "ship" in digital form makes everything even more confusing.

So, I have no real idea if we're at or close to gold, but that hasn't kept me from speculating in the past at this very blog. My go-to person on these subjects is John Principale, who works at CBS radio and is a fan of the band. It's been five years since we last explored the issue, so here's the latest on Fizzy, according to Soundscan, which supposedly tracks about 90 percent of all album sales. Take it away, John.

Fizzy has sold a total of 386,453 [Soundscan] units to date. Back in 2007 it was showing as 374,790, so you’re looking at 11,663 sold in the past 5 years alone. For those 5 years, it breaks down to approximately 2,300 copies per year and about 44 copies per week. That number actually holds pretty true. Check out the last month:

Week ending 2/26/12: 44
Week ending 3/4/12: 45
Week ending 3/11/12: 34
Week ending 3/18/12: 40

Of the total 386,543, I’m seeing 42,558 cassettes (8 more than last time!), 332,777 CDs, and 11,074 digital. Year to date sales for 2012 are 453, with 432 of those coming digitally. Top 10 markets for sales since 2/27/96 are as follows:

Phoenix: 40,168 (30 copies in the past 4 weeks)
Denver: 12,300 (6)
New York: 11,671 (1)
Boston: 10,798 (5)
Los Angeles: 10,797 (1)
Portland: 9,613 (3)
Atlanta: 9,485 (0)
Chicago: 8,720 (3)
Detroit: 8,196 (1)
Philadelphia: 8,078 (2)

Looking at your old blog [post], it seems the order remains unchanged except for Portland and Atlanta swapping places. There’s also a field in the report that’s simply labeled “Tracks,” which I’m thinking could be digital downloads of individual songs. They obviously need to keep separate track of this number to pay Apple, the labels, and maybe the artists. This box shows 374 for this week, 3,877 for 2012 year to date, and 123,624 release to date.



Thanks again, John.

Fascinating, eh? If Soundscan is listing 386,453 sales, and Soundscan is still considered 90 percent of the market, then that would put the total shipped of Fizzy at something like 430,000 albums, which is still 70k short of where we need to be to be certified gold. So, not yet.

And only Mercury knows for sure.

The good news is the album continues to sell, and at this point probably will continue to do so. Still, no one should be holding their breath waiting for it to go gold.

And if you're one of those eight folks in the last five years who bought Fizzy on cassette, shoot me an email explaining your rationale.

Yours in laying down the law,

Art

Try Stuck Outside of Phoenix in print form for just $5.

Or try Stuck for your Kindle for just 99 cents.

Monday, January 30, 2012

The Tub

You don't have to be a genius to look at the Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie Kickstarter campaign and realize that things are getting a little itchy.

With about $2,200 gathered to date (big thanks for all your donations), we still need $12,500-ish in the next week or we get nothing.

It's clearly time to break out The Tub.

"What's The Tub?" you ask?

Well, The Tub is where, in 1998, when Kel and I were packing up our lives in Phoenix and moving to San Francisco, I stored all of my Refreshments collectibles. The Tub is about four feet long, blue, and it probably holds the best collection of Refreshments memorabilia the world knows.

It's Mecca for Refreshments collectors.

As you might imagine, I don't spend a lot of time digging through The Tub. It's sat in storage for most of its life, where no one bothers it. Still, there was one time in recent memory when I dug deep into The Tub. It was in 2003, and I was in the process of publishing my first novel, Stuck Outside of Phoenix. Kel and I had just moved to Ashland, Oregon, and I was having trouble scraping together enough money to publish and promote my novel. So, I got into The Tub, found twenty-eight items I felt I could part with, and sold them on Ebay. This gave me the necessary funds to bring Stuck the book to life. The Tub saved the day.

So, here we are in 2012, and once again I'm trying to help bring Stuck to life, albeit in a completely different way, and the funds are not yet there to make it happen. Sounds like a job for The Tub.

At this link, you will find eleven Ebay events, all for Refreshments-related items, up for auction or straight sale. This is some very unique stuff, including Wheelie promotional posters from 1994, the gig poster from the SXSW show when the Refreshments secured their record deal with Mercury Records, a handmade Refreshments belt buckle from a set of four given to each band member in 1996, and lots lots more. I bet even the largest Refreshments collectors will find something they didn't know existed.

And here's the great news. Every penny I make (minus fees and shipping) from the sale of these items will go to the Kickstarter campaign for Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie! Yes, you can buy at will and know that your money is going to help put this thing over the top.

So, if you're into Refreshments memorabilia--and I know some of you are--bid like the wind, and let's make it happen!

Thanks for all you do.

Art

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Call-Up

I'm old, which means I wonder about kids these days.

I actually don't wonder so much about kids as much as I do about musician kids.

I remember myself as a teenager in Moline, Illinois in the 1980s, sitting on a stool in our basement, playing the bass lick during the solo section of Rush's “Tom Sawyer.” You know the lick.

Dee-do-de-do-de-do, Dee-do-de-do-de-do.

I quit trying to play it with the record because there was no way I'd ever play it as fast as Rush's bass player, Geddy Lee, so I played it by myself over and over again, stumbling through the fingering, driving everyone in my house crazy.

I loved this song, and this music--Moving Pictures is one of my all-time favorite albums--but I liked other things about Rush too. I liked that they had this gangly bass player with a big schnoz who walked around the stage like he owned it, playing these impossibly complicated bass lines, some of which I could never imagine replicating. (“Tom Sawyer” was maybe in my league. “YYZ”? Forget it.) I liked that the band was from Canada. (Any foreign clime was exotic to me, even Canada.) I liked that the trio's image was carefully cultivated to make this Midwestern corn husk fantasize about one day being just like them: smart, amazing at my instrument, strutting around the stage like the Prince of Sudan. As a teenager, I was also a kind of gangly bass player with a big schnoz. Who was to say it couldn't happen?

After I moved to Arizona in 1990, these two worlds―the world of normal me and the world of big time rock--collided. I'd moved to the area because I had a friend who'd moved to Phoenix the year before who would let me share his room if I split the rent. I didn't know much about Phoenix, but I knew it had 2.5 million people, and a college with 40,000 students in nearby Tempe. There must be some kind of music scene there, where I could play original music in a band while finishing my degree.

My hunch was right. There were rock clubs in Tempe like Long Wong's on Mill, and the Sun Club, and Chuy's, where local bands played and acted like rock stars as much as the scene would let them. Most of these bands could draw enough to cover their beer tabs, and a few were genuinely popular, like the Gin Blossoms, who could fill any of these clubs on any night of the week. People actually danced when the Gins played--like, guys with girls dancing; not some random chaos where people hold their hands in the air and jump up and down. The tunes were great, the beer flowing, the sexual energy palpable. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Cue collision.

The Gods of the Major Labels descended upon our little town the same year I arrived, and the Gin Blossoms inked a record deal with A&M Records, the first band out of our scene to get signed. A&M Records was the real deal. The Police had been on A&M. Styx. Squeeze. Tempe was being smiled upon, and suddenly, almost overnight, there was a conceivable path from my everyday life as a twenty-year-old musician to the national music scene. I could seriously entertain visions of becoming some facsimile of Geddy Lee. I'd never really felt that way before the Gins got signed.

And these feelings were validated to an even greater extent in 1991 when bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam broke through to the mainstream from their own sleepy musical enclave of Seattle. There was something happening in the zeitgeist, something started by bands like REM and Hรผsker Dรผ a decade earlier and now carried forward into grunge, something that would allow folks like us to occupy the top of the musical charts. There was no reason why the band you saw on Friday night at your local club couldn't be the band you saw the next year on MTV.

I used to call this phenomena “The Golden Ticket”--you're just a normal schmo walking around town and then, suddenly, you're ordained--but now I find that metaphor inaccurate. A Golden Ticket, รก la Willy Wonka, implies too much dumb luck: you buy a chocolate bar, and you either get a ticket or you don't. There's always been plenty of luck involved in landing a major label record deal, but luck wasn't the word that came to mind when bands started getting signed out of Tempe. It was more a reward for talent and work, like the call-up of a hot hitter from AAA to the major leagues. It was your soul and work ethic giving you a shot at your dreams. In those early years of the Tempe scene, 1990-1993, the only two bands to get signed were the Gin Blossoms and Dead Hot Workshop. They were also my two favorite bands.


The Gins subsequent success nationally over the next few years greased the Tempe skids even more, and in 1995 my band the Refreshments signed with Mercury Records. Mercury was the label of Kiss, John Mellencamp, and not so long ago, a Canadian trio called Rush. My band would make two albums for the same label that had released Moving Pictures fifteen years earlier. 

Dee-do-de-do-de-do.

At the time in Tempe, there was a lot of talk of the Refreshments becoming the next Gin Blossoms, and our achievements along those lines are noteworthy. We had a hit single in 1996 called “Banditos.” We played “Banditos” live on the all-new Late Night with Conan O'Brien. We wrote and recorded the theme song for the Fox television series King of the Hill. There's plenty to brag about, but the success of my band isn't really what I think of when I think of the Tempe music scene. That all happened post-Blossoms, which was a different game. When I think of the scene, I think of those early years of hanging out--inside and outside--Long Wong's, watching the Gin Blossoms and Dead Hot, wondering how to get into a band as good as those two. I loved this time so much so that, when I set aside music in 1998 to write my first novel, I decided to focus on these early years. That novel, published in 2003, is Stuck Outside of Phoenix.

Flash forward to 2008. I'm at home watching Mill Avenue Inc., a documentary about the gentrification of the Mill Avenue area of Tempe, where much of the fun happened back in the day. Nico Holthaus, the director of Mill Ave. Inc., had contacted me about a year earlier to interview me for the film, and I was watching it for the first time. In 2003, Long Wong's--because of economic pressures placed on it by the systematic gentrification of the area--had been forced out of business, and as the last of the great Tempe clubs to go under, it represented the final nail in the coffin of what had been our music scene. This gentrification happened so quickly and seamlessly it was a little scary. All our shared history, gone. Many griped about this, but it was Nico who got film rolling, organized everything, focused the message. The result was a film that was entertaining, informative, empowering. A brief phone interview with me appears toward the end, and I'm proud to have had anything to do with it.

The message of that documentary--that gentrification doesn't have to happen; we let it happen--is an important one, but what I enjoyed most about Mill Ave. Inc. were the glimpses into the scene back in the day. Nico compiled film and photos of my cohorts and heroes, like the Gins lead singer Robin Wilson working at a record store in 1989 and gushing about his band's soon-to-be-released local album; and Sara Cina, manager of Long Wong's, shedding a tear as she talks about the last days of the club. It felt great to be connected with Tempe again. The clubs were gone, many of the bands broken up, but Mill Ave. Inc.--in a visual, visceral way--kept the scene alive. I learned from it that film had the power to put us right back there in a way nothing else can.

I emailed Nico in 2010 with the idea of him making a movie version of Stuck Outside of Phoenix. I didn't know him well--we'd met face-to-face exactly once--and I had no idea how he'd react. I knew we were both Uncle Tupelo fans from Illinois who'd moved to Arizona in the early nineties and fallen in love with the Tempe scene. I got a reply from Nico in a matter of minutes, nothing but “YEEHAW” written in bold caps.

I wrote the screenplay for the movie in 2011, focusing on bringing back that palpable sense of a music scene on the brink of discovery. Nico is producing the film, and he has a director and film editor and many of the other necessities lined up. He could start rolling as soon as next month.

So, back to kids these days, and me being old.

When a teenage musician of today sits in his room and plays along with his equivalent of “Tom Sawyer,” what is he thinking about? More to the point, what is he dreaming about? Is he dreaming that someday he might play in a band and maybe that band will get signed? Is he dreaming that someday he might get tapped on the shoulder by some person from a record label, who will be smiling ear to ear? I don't think so. I don't think kids see bands on major labels in 2012 and think, “Wouldn't that be cool.” And if they do, they probably shouldn't, because the landscape of the music business has changed so drastically since I played in the Refreshments, winning the game for them is an entirely different enterprise. They need to embrace DIY and make a name for themselves in their communities and on the Internet. As an artistically viable force, major labels don't have much to offer them anymore.

And hey, that's exactly as it should be. The Internet and digital technology have taken the game out of big corporations' hands and given it to each and every one of us. You can make and distribute a record, set up a rock tour, film a video--everything the Refreshments thought we needed a record deal for--in your bedroom. It's the fruition of everything Ian MacKaye and Mike Watt ever dreamed of. You control your destiny, not shareholders. In 2012, making sure shareholders have someone to mess with is Justin Bieber's job. You're making art. So do it yourself, jam econo, and show us old folks how we should've been doing it all along.

But even though things are better now, that doesn't mean we didn't give something up. Yes, we lost something when we screwed The Man. I think the main thing we lost was the dream of The Call-Up, the sense that our talents, if we work hard, could lead to someone important tapping us on the shoulder and saying, “Boy, have we got a deal for you.” It's how it happened for Elvis and the Beatles and Kiss and Led Zeppelin and Van Halen and U2 and Nirvana and Green Day. Look at that list. Rage against the machine all you want, but it's kind of hard to hate the system entirely that brought all of them to most of us.

More than anything Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie should emphasize the sense back then that you could be a normal schmo in a band, in a scene, and that scene could get hot, and bands could get signed, and you could wind up on MTV with your face next to Jimi Hendrix's and Bono's and Kurt Cobain's.

Unfortunately, movie-making is a little different from running a rock band out of your bedroom. Many of the same kinds of DIY tools apply, and many don't. For one, movie-making involves a lot more people, and those people need to get (very nominally) paid. In other words, if Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie is going to happen, funds need to be raised.

Luckily, the 21st Century has its own mechanism for these kind of things called Kickstarter. Click on this link to learn more about Stuck Outside of Phoenix the Movie, and please consider donating to its Kickstarter campaign. And don't forget to take a look at the very unique incentives for donating. As I learned when watching Mill Ave. Inc., film can bring back memories like nothing else. It's called movie magic. Thank goodness there's still some magic out there.

I'm going to be writing more about this project over the next week or three at this blog, and I have a few surprises in store, especially if you're a Refreshments fan. Please keep tabs on me here every Monday as I unveil more events in the name of this effort. For now, give to the Kickstarter campaign, and thanks for all you do.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Badge's Favorite Band

A taste for those of you waiting for my third novel, Badge.



Yours in laying down the law,

Art

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