ZZ's 1999 release, XXX, seems to be a major target for dismissive, and rather aggressive, criticism. Loathed by critics at the time, and still panned to this day, the album appears to have been a missed opportunity by the band to capitalize on the 30 year anniversary of the greatest thing to emerge from Texas since freshly discovered crude, that being the Little Ol' Band from Texas.
Produced in large part by Billy it is a collection of great, and ultimately not-so-great, studio and live cuts. Receiving minimal promotion by RCA save for a quiet release of "Fearless Boogie" and "36-22-36" as singles, the effort was further evidence of Bill Ham's fading interest in his most successful enterprise. Without the push, enthusiasm and drive of Mr. Ham the band's releases seemed to attract less and less attention from the music buying public, both potential new fans and long standing old fans (some of whom left for good upon the techno / rock genius of Eliminator).
The tour to promote the album, beginning in the fall of 1999, did nothing to encourage word of mouth about the new release. Choosing to tour with Lynyrd Skynyrd (interesting dynamics here; Skynard was always the opening act throughout however served as the main attraction in the deep south; and ZZ as the main attraction in the West and Northeast) the Top only played one song from XXX, "Fearless Boogie". This was the first indication of a continuing tradition of a lack of interest by the band in playing new tracks, seemingly stemming from either poor confidence in the new material, hesitation to 'disappoint' fans, or just plain laziness. Instead Billy and the Boyzz choose to fill the shortened playlist with cornerstones such as "Sunglasses" and "Nationwide". Having ended the US portion in March of 2000 they did go on to add three more tracks from the album upon arriving in Australia in April. Sadly due to Dusty's impending health issues the European jaunt was cancelled, which no doubt would have lead to a successful live campaign and likely increased exposure and sales of XXX in Europe.
In my opinion the album is overall quite good, of course I am a little biased. "Poke Chop Sandwich", a product of Frank's suggestion and ideas, is awesome - a very unique track in ZZ's history that is unlike anything they did before or since. "Fearless Boogie" and "36-22-36" are also strong. Some are indeed on the low end of the group's output, namely "Made Into a Movie" and "Trippin". But the real appeal here, seemingly glossed over by casual fans aka critics, are the live tracks. "Belt Buckle" and "Hey Mr. Millionaire" are excellent examples of the creativity and engrossing experience that ZZ can convey when they actually apply themselves live (some would argue they haven't done this since 1983). Full of complex starts and stops and blazing leads anchored by the professional rhythm section of Dusty and Frank, the songs sound amazing pumped loud through your stereo of choice. But the real gem here, no question about it, is "Teddy Bear". Oozing the slow bravado and assertive confidence of Dusty's finest lead vocal work, the Elvis cover is the equivalent of "Poke Chop Sandwich" in its shining example of the still harnessed commanding and capable abilities of the Texas Trio. An absolutely glaring omission from the US tour, it was brought to the stage upon arriving in Australia in April 2000 where it no doubt was extremely well received. The band completely missed the boat on this opportunity to show the still obvious vitality and viability of these middle age rockers.
Overall, an incredible effort like "Rhythmeen" is going to be difficult to follow in any circumstance, and Billy and Mr. Ham did themselves no favors when it came to promoting XXX. But that doesn't mean you and I can't still enjoy it. It you have it, find it and crank it up. If you don't have it, go on ebay or Amazon and get it, now. Upon hearing Dusty's "Teddy Bear" or Billy's "Poke Chop" you'll wonder why you waited so long to buy the album, and will likely recognize once and for all that critics are just that, critics, and you can make up your own mind when it comes to the quality and appeal of ZZ's releases.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Memories of Tejas, Part II...
The conclusion of an awesome adventure with ZZ Top in 1976...
-----
Of course, Point Blank turned out to be nothing but a footnote in rock history. They were never able to repeat the sound or feel they had on their one chart hit, ‘Nicole.’ I remember after the initial rush of excitement being unimpressed by them. There was nothing that set them apart. Ham didn’t have his second ZZ Top and though a few years later he would hook up with Clint Black ZZ would turn out to be the one major defining act in his arsenal for practically the next thirty years. But what an act they were and, despite Ham’s recent departure, still are.
After Point Blank the next performer was Johnny Winter. This was my first of five times seeing him over the next twenty five years. The odd thing about it is before I sat down to write this I didn’t realize I’d never once attended a show because he was there. He was either an opening act every time or the one time he was the headliner he wasn’t the reason I’d gone to the show. I love Johnny, I really do. I have four or five of his recordings but it’s just always worked out that the other people playing before or after him were the reason I was there.
As is his reputation Johnny put on a blues laced show. With no more than half the band members that Point Blank had in their arsenal he produced twice the soul. Despite the huge black tarp above shielding the stage from the intense rays of the sun the albino slide guitar player rocked us deep into the late hours of the afternoon.
His brother Edgar followed performing almost note for note most of his recent album ‘Frankenstein.’ Rick Derringer kicked it out on ‘Rock and Roll Hoochie Coo’ with Johnny joining in too. Edgar was superb on the album’s title cut. It sounded exactly like it did in every teenager’s car that had an eight track player inside,
If you’ll allow me to digress for a moment I’d like to make a comment about the concept of the perfect ‘album sound’ at a live concert. It was never important to me. In fact, I’m disappointed if the sound intended for vinyl, (or whatever the format), comes across too exact at a live show. I don’t want a stage play to sound or feel like a movie, I don’t want a sporting event to appear as it does on television and, I learned this watching the Boyzz, I want the sound at a live music show to be different than the studio cuts. Rougher, slower (or faster for that matter), anything really to tweak it a bit. If all I wanted was the ‘recorded sound’ I wouldn’t bother to buy a ticket.
At least one of the Winter Brothers is still at it. I saw Edgar with Ringo Star’s All Star Band a couple of years ago. Frankenstein still sounded perfect. I’m not sure exactly to what extent but health problems have taken a heavy toll on Johnny for most of the last decade or so. Despite that, over the length of a long career he sure has provided a lot of good times.
Blue Oyster Cult was big that summer. Commercially, they were at their peak, not only in popularity but record sales too. To keep them off headliner status you had to be a top tier act, no pun intended, yourself. The Cult was in the middle of touring what would prove to be the biggest commercial album in their history, ‘Agents of Fortune.’ Besides their classic ‘Godzilla’ the albums single, ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ is easily the most recognizable song of their still active career.
But that summer no matter which group you came to see or if you just came for a day long party everyone stayed to the end to see ZZ.
I don’t remember the exact time it all started but the skies turned pitch black the second they doused the stadium lights. There, sitting on a mountain top high above the Texas shaped stage was the silhouette of a wolf. As lightening crackled across the painted desert backdrop the lone wolf lifted its head towards the full moon and howled. The Boyzz, dressed like the front cover of ‘Fandango’, appeared out of nowhere, center stage, under a blanket of white light, so bright it lit up virtually all of the outfield grass in front of them. We were about two hundred feet from the stage when the whole thing touched off.
I stayed with my friends throughout ‘Thunderbird’, ‘Chevrolet’, and most of the third number, ‘Precious and Grace’. I asked a couple of the guys in my group if they wanted to try and get closer to the front. They didn’t respond. I could tell they were happy where they were at. Their loss. I was the one who’d driven. Nobody could leave without me. I told them not to worry; I’d be back. If I didn’t make it before the encore finished I’d meet everyone at my dad’s car.
The exhilaration I felt the moment I took my first step forward told me I’d made the right choice. I never regretted leaving my friends behind. I grabbed my blanket and “World Wide Texas Tour” tank top and started weaving my way through the crowd. No, I don’t still have the shirt. I did though for the next decade or so before my loving wife at the time decided to donate it during a Goodwill clothing drive that fleeced at least half the husband’s closets in the neighborhood.
As I got closer the sound wasn’t as clear but the feel was better. The intensity of the performance is something I’ve never forgotten. With each step I took the thump of Dusty’s bass smacked me hard in the chest. The tone from Billy’s guitar was considerably more muffled than it’d been only a hundred feet or so behind me. But the big, chunky chords he seems to always hit with perfect timing had a feel that wasn’t nearly the same as it was back out by second base.
I’ve been reading articles online lately suggesting that maybe the stories about the live animals ZZ took on tour with them were nothing more than fabrications promoted by the band members and the gullible rock journalists and fans of the time. That’s not how I remember it.
On one side of the stage I could make out the silhouette of a long horn steer standing high above us on a raised platform. On the other side, inside the same type of contraption, was a large buffalo. Both of them moved. I saw them move. I’ve never questioned if they were real or not. I didn’t get close enough to see the rattlesnakes inside the Plexiglas box at the foot of the stage but I’ve read reports by other people who attended the tour that swear they were there.
Why isn’t there any photographic evidence that survives from the time to support their existence? First of all the band’s manager was a control freak. The band’s live shows were always a guarded secret when Mr. Ham was in charge. No doubt photo journalist passes were a tough thing to obtain not to mention full of restrictions in their usage. Heck just getting news about the band, particularly at that time, was always slow in coming.
Of course everyone didn’t have cell phones with digital cameras attached to them either. As a rule the general public didn’t carry professional quality cameras around with them. Instamatics with the rotating cube flash on the top was about as state of the art as it got for most of us.
By “Rattlesnake Shake” I was as close as I was going to get. I was on Billy’s side probably thirty feet away and hemmed in like the cuff on a pair of dress pants. I was just south of the ‘sardine section.’ When the Boyzz busted into ‘La Grange’ the stadium’s scoreboard flashed the song title in three story high letters.
The show ended with an encore of ‘Mexican Blackbird’ (“she’ll spread like an eagle for you!”), El Diablo, (a very underrated song when it’s done live), and, ‘Tush.’ Just like during La Grange the stadium scoreboard flashed the word ‘Tush’ in letters larger than life.
The show’s ending turned into a blur for me. The Boyzz, just as they do now, quickly left the stage. The lights inside the stadium came on illuminating all of the day’s sins. Beer cups, soda cups, clothing, hot dog wrappers and trash of all kinds, both known and unknown, was strewn everywhere across the Angel’s previously perfect baseball diamond. In the harsh artificial light everything that was left, including the rock and roll faithful themselves, looked tired and a bit worse for wear.
When I got to the top of the stairs leading out from the field I spotted my friends pushing their way across the packed concourse. How I was able to notice them inside that rolling tide of people I’ll never know. When I finally caught up with them I was so excited I could barely contain myself.
“Wasn’t Billy great?” I kept on asking everyone around me, not just my buddies. “Don’t they make a fucking unbelievable amount of sound for only three guys!!??”
Despite the exhaustion from the 12+ hour day there was a smile on everybody’s face and a shitload of electricity still filling the air. Yelling, screaming, fist pumping was everywhere. For a few magic moments on a very special day at the end of my teenage years, all was perfect in my world. My friends as well as everyone else who was there learned a simple fact that day if they didn’t already know it before. That fact being that wherever and whenever that “Little ‘ol Band from Texas” straps on the guitars and sets up the drums they’ll forever be a force to be reckoned with. Have Mercy!
-----
Of course, Point Blank turned out to be nothing but a footnote in rock history. They were never able to repeat the sound or feel they had on their one chart hit, ‘Nicole.’ I remember after the initial rush of excitement being unimpressed by them. There was nothing that set them apart. Ham didn’t have his second ZZ Top and though a few years later he would hook up with Clint Black ZZ would turn out to be the one major defining act in his arsenal for practically the next thirty years. But what an act they were and, despite Ham’s recent departure, still are.
After Point Blank the next performer was Johnny Winter. This was my first of five times seeing him over the next twenty five years. The odd thing about it is before I sat down to write this I didn’t realize I’d never once attended a show because he was there. He was either an opening act every time or the one time he was the headliner he wasn’t the reason I’d gone to the show. I love Johnny, I really do. I have four or five of his recordings but it’s just always worked out that the other people playing before or after him were the reason I was there.
As is his reputation Johnny put on a blues laced show. With no more than half the band members that Point Blank had in their arsenal he produced twice the soul. Despite the huge black tarp above shielding the stage from the intense rays of the sun the albino slide guitar player rocked us deep into the late hours of the afternoon.
His brother Edgar followed performing almost note for note most of his recent album ‘Frankenstein.’ Rick Derringer kicked it out on ‘Rock and Roll Hoochie Coo’ with Johnny joining in too. Edgar was superb on the album’s title cut. It sounded exactly like it did in every teenager’s car that had an eight track player inside,
If you’ll allow me to digress for a moment I’d like to make a comment about the concept of the perfect ‘album sound’ at a live concert. It was never important to me. In fact, I’m disappointed if the sound intended for vinyl, (or whatever the format), comes across too exact at a live show. I don’t want a stage play to sound or feel like a movie, I don’t want a sporting event to appear as it does on television and, I learned this watching the Boyzz, I want the sound at a live music show to be different than the studio cuts. Rougher, slower (or faster for that matter), anything really to tweak it a bit. If all I wanted was the ‘recorded sound’ I wouldn’t bother to buy a ticket.
At least one of the Winter Brothers is still at it. I saw Edgar with Ringo Star’s All Star Band a couple of years ago. Frankenstein still sounded perfect. I’m not sure exactly to what extent but health problems have taken a heavy toll on Johnny for most of the last decade or so. Despite that, over the length of a long career he sure has provided a lot of good times.
Blue Oyster Cult was big that summer. Commercially, they were at their peak, not only in popularity but record sales too. To keep them off headliner status you had to be a top tier act, no pun intended, yourself. The Cult was in the middle of touring what would prove to be the biggest commercial album in their history, ‘Agents of Fortune.’ Besides their classic ‘Godzilla’ the albums single, ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ is easily the most recognizable song of their still active career.
But that summer no matter which group you came to see or if you just came for a day long party everyone stayed to the end to see ZZ.
I don’t remember the exact time it all started but the skies turned pitch black the second they doused the stadium lights. There, sitting on a mountain top high above the Texas shaped stage was the silhouette of a wolf. As lightening crackled across the painted desert backdrop the lone wolf lifted its head towards the full moon and howled. The Boyzz, dressed like the front cover of ‘Fandango’, appeared out of nowhere, center stage, under a blanket of white light, so bright it lit up virtually all of the outfield grass in front of them. We were about two hundred feet from the stage when the whole thing touched off.
I stayed with my friends throughout ‘Thunderbird’, ‘Chevrolet’, and most of the third number, ‘Precious and Grace’. I asked a couple of the guys in my group if they wanted to try and get closer to the front. They didn’t respond. I could tell they were happy where they were at. Their loss. I was the one who’d driven. Nobody could leave without me. I told them not to worry; I’d be back. If I didn’t make it before the encore finished I’d meet everyone at my dad’s car.
The exhilaration I felt the moment I took my first step forward told me I’d made the right choice. I never regretted leaving my friends behind. I grabbed my blanket and “World Wide Texas Tour” tank top and started weaving my way through the crowd. No, I don’t still have the shirt. I did though for the next decade or so before my loving wife at the time decided to donate it during a Goodwill clothing drive that fleeced at least half the husband’s closets in the neighborhood.
As I got closer the sound wasn’t as clear but the feel was better. The intensity of the performance is something I’ve never forgotten. With each step I took the thump of Dusty’s bass smacked me hard in the chest. The tone from Billy’s guitar was considerably more muffled than it’d been only a hundred feet or so behind me. But the big, chunky chords he seems to always hit with perfect timing had a feel that wasn’t nearly the same as it was back out by second base.
I’ve been reading articles online lately suggesting that maybe the stories about the live animals ZZ took on tour with them were nothing more than fabrications promoted by the band members and the gullible rock journalists and fans of the time. That’s not how I remember it.
On one side of the stage I could make out the silhouette of a long horn steer standing high above us on a raised platform. On the other side, inside the same type of contraption, was a large buffalo. Both of them moved. I saw them move. I’ve never questioned if they were real or not. I didn’t get close enough to see the rattlesnakes inside the Plexiglas box at the foot of the stage but I’ve read reports by other people who attended the tour that swear they were there.
Why isn’t there any photographic evidence that survives from the time to support their existence? First of all the band’s manager was a control freak. The band’s live shows were always a guarded secret when Mr. Ham was in charge. No doubt photo journalist passes were a tough thing to obtain not to mention full of restrictions in their usage. Heck just getting news about the band, particularly at that time, was always slow in coming.
Of course everyone didn’t have cell phones with digital cameras attached to them either. As a rule the general public didn’t carry professional quality cameras around with them. Instamatics with the rotating cube flash on the top was about as state of the art as it got for most of us.
By “Rattlesnake Shake” I was as close as I was going to get. I was on Billy’s side probably thirty feet away and hemmed in like the cuff on a pair of dress pants. I was just south of the ‘sardine section.’ When the Boyzz busted into ‘La Grange’ the stadium’s scoreboard flashed the song title in three story high letters.
The show ended with an encore of ‘Mexican Blackbird’ (“she’ll spread like an eagle for you!”), El Diablo, (a very underrated song when it’s done live), and, ‘Tush.’ Just like during La Grange the stadium scoreboard flashed the word ‘Tush’ in letters larger than life.
The show’s ending turned into a blur for me. The Boyzz, just as they do now, quickly left the stage. The lights inside the stadium came on illuminating all of the day’s sins. Beer cups, soda cups, clothing, hot dog wrappers and trash of all kinds, both known and unknown, was strewn everywhere across the Angel’s previously perfect baseball diamond. In the harsh artificial light everything that was left, including the rock and roll faithful themselves, looked tired and a bit worse for wear.
When I got to the top of the stairs leading out from the field I spotted my friends pushing their way across the packed concourse. How I was able to notice them inside that rolling tide of people I’ll never know. When I finally caught up with them I was so excited I could barely contain myself.
“Wasn’t Billy great?” I kept on asking everyone around me, not just my buddies. “Don’t they make a fucking unbelievable amount of sound for only three guys!!??”
Despite the exhaustion from the 12+ hour day there was a smile on everybody’s face and a shitload of electricity still filling the air. Yelling, screaming, fist pumping was everywhere. For a few magic moments on a very special day at the end of my teenage years, all was perfect in my world. My friends as well as everyone else who was there learned a simple fact that day if they didn’t already know it before. That fact being that wherever and whenever that “Little ‘ol Band from Texas” straps on the guitars and sets up the drums they’ll forever be a force to be reckoned with. Have Mercy!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Memories of Tejas...
Today I am bringing you a very special first hand account of seeing the Top on their infamous "World Wide Texas Tour" in 1976. Composed by my good friend Chris, his amazing recollection serves as an excellent testimonial to the excitment, energy and enigma of 1970's ZZ.
-----
Part I
As soon as I got out of bed that Saturday morning and started moving around I could already feel the oncoming heat of the day through the curtains of my bedroom window. I knew there wouldn’t be any reprieve from it until later that afternoon. Summer in Southern California is like that. The air outside won’t move an inch for practically the entire day. Then, just when you think you can’t stand it anymore, the end of the afternoon rolls around and a breeze comes in off the ocean. To be truthful, at that moment I wasn’t concerned with any of that. Right then all I cared about was seeing my favorite rock and roll band sometime later that day. I didn’t know when exactly, but that didn’t matter. The happy realization that the day had finally come was good enough for me. After toast and cereal and a quick shower I put on some tennis shoes, a pair of cut off jeans and a clean t shirt. I was ready
-----
Part I
World Wide Texas Tour Summer 1976
As soon as I got out of bed that Saturday morning and started moving around I could already feel the oncoming heat of the day through the curtains of my bedroom window. I knew there wouldn’t be any reprieve from it until later that afternoon. Summer in Southern California is like that. The air outside won’t move an inch for practically the entire day. Then, just when you think you can’t stand it anymore, the end of the afternoon rolls around and a breeze comes in off the ocean. To be truthful, at that moment I wasn’t concerned with any of that. Right then all I cared about was seeing my favorite rock and roll band sometime later that day. I didn’t know when exactly, but that didn’t matter. The happy realization that the day had finally come was good enough for me. After toast and cereal and a quick shower I put on some tennis shoes, a pair of cut off jeans and a clean t shirt. I was ready
Including me there was six of us heading out on a midsummer pilgrimage to what was being billed across the airwaves and the local print media as a ”Rompin’ Stompin’ Texas sized Barbeque” at Anaheim Stadium featuring ‘That Little ‘ol Band from Texas,’ ZZ Top.
We’d all gone to high school together, each of us having graduated within the past two years. All of us had grown up and still lived in Crestline, a very small California town tucked away in the lower belly of the San Bernardino Mountains.
Our eagerly anticipated journey started out with everyone squeezed together shoulder to shoulder across both the front and rear bench seats of my father’s 1972 Pontiac Tempest. Boy, that car could really move with just the slightest encouragement from an adolescent right foot.
We drove west on Highway 18 zig zagging down the mountain all the way from upper Crestline, elevation 5,000 feet, or what the locals like to call, ‘the top of the hill’ to the base of the mountain and the north end of San Bernardino. Fifteen miles after you start the traffic signal at the foot of the mountain changes everything and Highway 18 turns into Waterman Avenue. I remember the 215 freeway that runs through the center of San Bernardino being mostly deserted that morning.
After connecting with the 91 near Riverside we ended up in Anaheim, practically as far west as you can go without making it to a beach city. At that time Anaheim was home to the California Angels and Disneyland. Kind of a sweet place actually. Still is. The entire trip, including a pit stop for gas and cigarettes, took us no more than an hour and forty five minutes.
We got off at the Katella exit. A gigantic white colored ‘A’ with a halo wrapped around its top greeted us from across the street. Looming in the distance through the early morning Southern California haze I could see Disneyland’s white capped Matterhorn Mountain. It reminded me how excited I always felt anytime I was anywhere near this area. Disneyland and baseball, I’d experienced both with my father way too many times to count. What more could a southern California kid ask for growing up? From the moment the day started I had a real good feeling ZZ would keep up the fine tradition of good times for me in this neck of the woods.
So far getting to where we wanted to go had been easy. That changed as soon as we drove through the parking lot gates. We were approached by a squadron of security guards directing us to the farthest outskirts of the circular lot. Some were regular security but most were off duty cops getting an extra buck. I gave them no grief. I was too happy to give a shit. After parking the Tempest almost a cab ride away we got out and started to make our way towards the entrance.
We could see when we got about a third of the way there that our group as well as everyone else coming in from the other sections of the parking lot were being funneled by security into what would turn out to be an almost endless ribbon of humanity. We were herded, about ten people wide, between lengths of rope that seemed to run forever through a series of rubber tire pylons. This procedure pushed the lengthening mass of teen age flesh into one long stream that quickly pushed itself almost all the way around the gigantic parking lot. From any vantage point above the stadium it all must’ve appeared incredibly strange.
We stayed like that for almost an hour. But after standing there for five or ten minutes not having any idea what was going on everyone, our group included, spread out as much as we could while still keeping ourselves between the ropes. Those of us who had them sat down on folded up blankets and towels. Those who didn’t either remained standing or sat down cross legged on the parking lot’s asphalt surface.
It was only a little past nine o’clock in the morning. The breeze from the nearby beaches was still holding its’ own in the battle against the oncoming midday heat. We broke into some of our provisions. A big bag of Doritos was passed around as well as a huge bottle of coca cola that wasn’t much above room temperature but still tasted great.
Then, without warning, everyone around us started to stand up. Maybe it came from some unknown signal somewhere or maybe it was just a feeling everyone got at the same time. Whatever it was I could feel the excitement growing in the pit of my stomach. My friends and I followed suit stretching our leg muscles as we brushed chips and salt off the front of our shirts and the tops of our blankets. By the time we had everything folded up and put away we were already caught up in the middle of a mass migration forward.
Security asked us to bunch into tighter groups. They were doing their best to maintain some kind of order as they began the slow process of moving thousands of people forward to one destination. There were no arguments or fights in my area. It seemed as if everyone around me felt the same way I did. Let’s get inside and get the party started!
It was slow and it wasn’t easy. We were pushed along like cattle. We moved in sections maybe thirty feet at a time before stopping. Each time we stopped we stayed like that for a minute or two before beginning the entire process all over again. Each time we moved forward there was always someone who felt obligated to let out a loud “mooo.”
When we made it to the gate and finally got inside there was no checking of bags or purses; no pat down or metal detectors. The coolness of the covered concrete concourse brought my breath back and any tiredness I was feeling from lack of sleep or time in the sun was washed away by the anticipation of the upcoming event. I couldn’t wait.
The problem was I had to. We all had to. It was 10:00 am and the first scheduled performer, Point Blank, wasn’t due to take the stage until 3:00 that afternoon.
A lot of people stopped right there. They never made it any further. They walked down the aisles behind home plate as if they were there to attend an Angels/Tigers game. They found a shady overhang from the reserved section above and plopped themselves down on top of a comfortable wooden seat content to be what seemed to me a million miles away from the huge stage area that was set up against the outfield wall.
That wasn’t what my group had in mind. As long as the powers that be let us we were going to keep going forward as far as we could until somebody stopped us. At the bottom of each aisle, leading onto the field, a metal gate was being held open by an usher in a blue suit and a straw hat who couldn’t have looked more out of place if they’d attend the proceedings naked.
In short centerfield out on the other side of second base and directly in front of the stage we spread out our blankets. It was as close as we could get if we wanted to sit some and not have to stand the entire time.
I remember thinking that there sure was a long way to go before we made it to three o’clock. Looking back now I know there must’ve been moments when I got impatient waiting for everything to start. I think I have a tough time remembering any of that now because it ended up being such a great day. Tired? Yes, I remember getting tired. But it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be cured by simply stretching out for a quick siesta on one of the blankets that made up our home base. Our proximity to the ocean helped keep the temperatures down.
What did we do with our time? Besides the occasional herbal break we did what people use to do before everyone had cell phones or net books and laptops. We talked and joked. We people watched. We made fun of each other and the people around us. We made new friends. We smoked a lot of cigarettes to help pass the time. I think that was the day I became a pack a day smoker. It would be another seven years before I was able to break that nasty habit.
Though since then I’ve acquired quite a fondness for most malted beverages at that time the only alcohol I consumed was cheap wine. Tyrolia, Spinatta, or T J Swan---both vintages, Easy Days and Mellow Nights. All of them were best consumed without a glass but none were quite as rot gut as the stuff immortalized during the first song on ZZ’s set list during much of that tour, ‘Thunderbird.’
In my group I was the only one with a taste for the grape. The rest of the guys were beer drinkers or ‘smokers.’ None of us were of drinking age yet so besides the few beers a couple of the guys were able to sneak inside we were pretty much stuck that day with soda or water as our beverage of choice.
I think it was right before Point Blank got everything started that a girl sitting next to us offered me a drink from her jug of water. I accepted and took a swig big enough that I was almost embarrassed by it. All she did was smile. She was by herself and probably at least seven or eight years older than me. Because of an extremely large stash of paraphernalia she’d haphazardly hidden under a corner of her blanket and the very short pair of jean shorts she had on she had a steady stream of one hit visitors around her area throughout much of the afternoon. I don’t remember exactly when but at some point I turned around and she was gone. She’d wandered off, taking her paraphernalia and jug of water with her of course, never to be seen around our side of second base again.
In Southern California during that time and for quite a few years after there was a used car salesman by the name of Cal Worthington who with his ten gallon hat and outlandish stunts ruled the television airwaves. He was tall and thin and wore a black string tie along with an assortment of linen and brushed denim suits. His outlandish financing offers and over the top stunts, such as riding elephants and long legged ostriches between rows and rows of used cars, made him the equivalent of a cartoon character come to life.
Somehow, someone had come up with the brilliant idea that good old Cal should MC the affair. Maybe it was his oversized hat. It might have been the hat mixed in with the cornpone shtick that he was all about. Whatever it was after five hours of sitting, standing, and sweating in the hot summer sun the crowd was in no mood to hear somebody who was in most cases older than our parents try and be cute and funny.
The festivities needed to start. We were tired of canned music. We were tired of talking and not doing anything besides smoking and eating and drinking. Our little stadium gathering needed a kick start in the butt. I doubt Cal even knew who ZZ top was. I’m sure he had no interest in any of it beyond the fact that we were a captive audience of thousands. To him we were nothing more than a huge pool of potential car buyers.
The boos rained down hard from all corners of the stadium as soon as Cal tried to set one cowboy boot down on the stage. He was attempting to introduce ZZ Top manager Bill Ham’s newest rock and roll act Point Blank. We were relentless. He tried to yell over us. That didn’t work. Red faced, Cal took his hat off and waved it angrily in our direction. That not only didn’t work it made everything worse. Water and various other beverages were tossed up on stage. There were peanuts and half eaten hot dogs as well. It wasn’t a pretty site. Cal’s microphone was turned off. I can still see him being led off the stage by security, heels dragging in front of him while his silenced mouth was filled with one censored expletive after another.
Someone came on the PA system and ignoring what had just happened asked us in an excited voice if we were ready to rock. This brought a cheer from the sun drenched masses. After a quick pickup of debris from the stage it was time to get down to business. We didn’t see or hear from Cal the rest of the day.
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Part II in a few days....
Monday, December 13, 2010
Go...Daddy...Go; Special Batch 44 Hard
Okay, so apparently the company Go Daddy throws one hell of a party.
Saturday night, December 11th, Scottsdale, Arizona. Folk / Pop singer and songwriter Jewel, George Thorogood and the Destroyers, and that Little Ol' Band from Texas put on a private concert for more than 5,000 employees, family and friends of internet domain facilitator Go Daddy. Home of the Arizona Diamondbacks, "Chase Field" was transformed into an amusement park, complete with a farris wheel, raffles, bumper cars and a merry-go-round, as well as the aforementioned musical entertainment.
I had no idea that ZZ would be performing at this party. Apparently few did. Many acts are known to perform private gigs - even Madonna can be arranged to present to a personal event, for a cool million. I could do without Jewel, but George Thorogood would have been sweet to see in "support" of ZZ.
Anyway, check out the videos on YouTube. Looks like the Boyzz played a full set, doesn't seem like any new songs though. I haven't found a set list for Odessa either, anybody know what they played?
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Anyone seen the new "Special Batch 44 Hard" t-shirt on the band's merchandise web site. Any ideas what this is referring too? Couldn't have something to do with a new record could it? Nah..
Saturday night, December 11th, Scottsdale, Arizona. Folk / Pop singer and songwriter Jewel, George Thorogood and the Destroyers, and that Little Ol' Band from Texas put on a private concert for more than 5,000 employees, family and friends of internet domain facilitator Go Daddy. Home of the Arizona Diamondbacks, "Chase Field" was transformed into an amusement park, complete with a farris wheel, raffles, bumper cars and a merry-go-round, as well as the aforementioned musical entertainment.
I had no idea that ZZ would be performing at this party. Apparently few did. Many acts are known to perform private gigs - even Madonna can be arranged to present to a personal event, for a cool million. I could do without Jewel, but George Thorogood would have been sweet to see in "support" of ZZ.
Anyway, check out the videos on YouTube. Looks like the Boyzz played a full set, doesn't seem like any new songs though. I haven't found a set list for Odessa either, anybody know what they played?
-----
Anyone seen the new "Special Batch 44 Hard" t-shirt on the band's merchandise web site. Any ideas what this is referring too? Couldn't have something to do with a new record could it? Nah..
Friday, December 3, 2010
There comes a time...but not yet
So I was reading an article in today's Wall Street Journal (hey, some of the articles can be interesting!) and a major feature was the debate on rock stars rapidly approaching retirement age. The article focused mainly on Mr. Bob Dylan, an amazing writer and musician who has shared his talents for almost 50 years now. Dylan, along with the likes of The Rolling Stones, Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis are all continuing to perform, but should they? Mr. Tamborine man himself is 69.
So what about ZZ Top? All of them are very close in age, each will be turning 62 years old in 2011. Should they call it a day and retire? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say no, not yet.
There are some indicators however that have to be monitored. I would deem these to be energy, enthusiasm, ability and creativity. The energy to still play, the enthusiasm to still want to play, the physical ability to still play well, and the creativity to make new music (not just rehash the old stuff over and over). Out of these four factors, ZZ currently meets three. The physical ability is still there, all three members remain masters of their respective instruments and appear quite spry. The energy is there, with the possible exception of Frank, but I would argue he has appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep onstage since 1999 and keeps on going. Same for enthusiasm, Frank keeps on hitting the skins with his long time friends so he must still have a drive for being in a rock 'n roll band. It's the creativity that's a tough call. Do they still have the ambition, desire and need to create new music? Or do they wish to remain a caricature of themselves, which, having not released a new record since 2003, they are rapidly becoming. This most crucial element is likely to be answered very soon, with 2011 being a do or die year in terms of remaining relevant in today's music scene. I truly hope the band comes out with something great in the upcoming year, but let's face it, even an underwhelming effort similar to something like "El Loco" would be great to hear. And the band must absolutely support any new album that is released by playing some new songs live. I've said it before, AC/DC did it, therefore so can ZZ Top.
Here's hoping and looking forward to a still relevant, active, creative and enthusiastic ZZ Top in 2011!
So what about ZZ Top? All of them are very close in age, each will be turning 62 years old in 2011. Should they call it a day and retire? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say no, not yet.
There are some indicators however that have to be monitored. I would deem these to be energy, enthusiasm, ability and creativity. The energy to still play, the enthusiasm to still want to play, the physical ability to still play well, and the creativity to make new music (not just rehash the old stuff over and over). Out of these four factors, ZZ currently meets three. The physical ability is still there, all three members remain masters of their respective instruments and appear quite spry. The energy is there, with the possible exception of Frank, but I would argue he has appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep onstage since 1999 and keeps on going. Same for enthusiasm, Frank keeps on hitting the skins with his long time friends so he must still have a drive for being in a rock 'n roll band. It's the creativity that's a tough call. Do they still have the ambition, desire and need to create new music? Or do they wish to remain a caricature of themselves, which, having not released a new record since 2003, they are rapidly becoming. This most crucial element is likely to be answered very soon, with 2011 being a do or die year in terms of remaining relevant in today's music scene. I truly hope the band comes out with something great in the upcoming year, but let's face it, even an underwhelming effort similar to something like "El Loco" would be great to hear. And the band must absolutely support any new album that is released by playing some new songs live. I've said it before, AC/DC did it, therefore so can ZZ Top.
Here's hoping and looking forward to a still relevant, active, creative and enthusiastic ZZ Top in 2011!
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