Near Misses and big hits
Two weeks ago, Ashley and I met our friends Larry and Claudia at Tulsa’s kind of upscale shopping area, Utica Square for their summer concert series. Utica Square has “Fifth Night” on which ach Thursday musicians play in a staged area in the streets crisscrossing the mall area. People load up their lawn chairs, ice cheats, dinners or sit at one of the nearby outdoor table restaurants and tune into whatever music is playing that week. People sit. People dance. Kids wander the area. We sat, having a beer and dinner that Claudia packed for us all.
That night, the musicians were a local band, Admiral Twin. They have been around for almost 20 years in one of two different incarnations. I first started listening to them in the early 90’s at a Tulsa club called “Eclipse.” At that time, the band was sort of managed by a guy, Don Holman, I had taught, shared music tastes with and also knew his mom from the school. The band also included two guys from Sapulpa High School.
Don had me listen to a cassette by the band, which I immediately bought. They were good, and multi-talented. They mixed in a variety of instruments not common to pop music and started to gather quite a local following. Ash and I made several trips to the Eclipse to see them and another band with some Sapulpa guys, Dragonfly. Dragonfly had their brief touch with possibility, one night opening at Cain’s Ballroom for Todd Rundgren and then fading into inactivity.
Around 1999, the Tulsa band Hanson hit it big with the pop song “Mmmm-bop.” They were pretty young but the tune was a bubblegum classic. I still have it on my IPOD because there is no denying, that whether you think pop is art or not, it is one of those songs that forces you to hum it, remember it and catch yourself singing along.
The song won national attention andHanson was offered a national tour. They selected the Melodramatic Wallflowers as their opening band. But, the band had been going through a few changes itself due to some conflict name-wise with the now nationally recognized “Wallflowers” fronted by Bob Dylan’s son, Jacob and a bit of turmoil that resulted in one of the band members, Steve Rankin, leaving the band. Steve’s parents live right down the street and I have run into him several times in the neighborhood.
The now named “Admiral Twin” went into the studio to record some new songs, along with some remixes of a few of their older tunes. The resulting CD was called “Mock Heroic.” That CD was a pretty great, slick pop work of art.
Touring with Hanson, a new CD for sale nationally, and a more streamlined, less esoteric sound made it appear that Admiral Twin was on the cusp on big things. There’s no doubt the band was better, both musically and artistically, than a lot of the bands raking in the cash. Unfortunately, the fates and airwaves are not always rewarding of good musicianship, but often of look, and plain luck. Just plain fickle.
After the tour, just when the band should be promoted and raised to a new level, the company they signed with folded. Hanson went on to score a few more songs, and still record today. As a matter of fact, they are planning a new national tour this fall. Admiral Twin, named after the local landmark, the Admiral Twin drive-in, struggled to gain a new contract and opportunity.
The band continued to play and record, appearing all over Tulsa, at any venue possible. I saw them at clubs, at Mayfest, etc. The chance kept evading them and finally, frustrated with the failure to get that chance again, the lead singer, guitarist left the band to take an accounting job in California.
That left the band as a 3 piece, still determined to carry on. Mark Carr, bass player and Sapulpa native, still continues on with the band. I usually talk to him each time I see them play. He has his day job, but the band continues to write new music and intersperse their show of covers with some of the original music.
At Fifth Night, I sat in my folding chair, enjoying the band. They played a set heavy with Beatles, Cars and some newer stuff and a few of the tunes off their newest CD effort. Next to the stage, a friend of the band manned a booth selling Admiral Twin T’s and CD’s.
Many times, I have heard local bands, guitarists, or singers that destroy some of the ones who end up on repetitive replay on the music channels and radio. In a cruel twist of fate, that put them in the right place at the right time, while these yeomen musicians battle the smoky bars and outdoor city festivals so people will hear their music. It is a heroic effort and I admire them for continuing to pursue the things they love, regardless of its profitability. I am eternally a fan in their Mock heroic effort to play in front of the big crowd again. Or maybe they are just “The Unlucky Ones.”
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Should have Been a Rock Star- Beatles and a hot Oklahoma summer night
Utica Square… Tulsa, June 24th
Ash and I just came home from the Fifth Night live concert series at Utica Square in Tulsa. Every Thursday night they have live music there. Two weeks ago I saw Admiral Twin, a band I have followed d for years and tonight we saw Bradio, once called The Brady Orchestra.
Bradio has set out on a monumentous task… to recreate the music of the Beatles! A couple years ago, they played Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper in their entirety. It was pretty spectacular. From” Here Comes The Sun” to “Her majesty”… Brady Orchestra rocked out. They created a faithful rendition of probably history’s greatest side of any single album.
The fi4st time they did this at Utica Square, Fletch and I had made the pilgrimage to hear the Beatle tunes. Later, they played at a bike race function n and we went to hear “Rubber Soul” in its entirety.
I was talking with an old high school buddy today, Larry Lutts. One of the things we reminisced about was a band we used to go listen to in a couple of Tulsa bars in the late 70’s. The band was called “US Kids” and they did something in their show at the club ‘Whiskers’ that I had never heard. They played “Magical Mystery Tour” faithfully to the album cut. When the first couple chords rang out, Larry and I looked at each other, long neck beer in our clenched hands.. and mumbled in unison… “Holy Shit!”
So what is it? What is it about a band that disbanded 40 years ago and released their last LP (“Let IT Be”_) 40 years ago this past May? What is it about their music that draws a full house to the musical tribute of local musicians? What is it about their music that brings a tear to my eye even today when I sing along with “Here Comes the Sun” or “Strawberry Fields Forever?”
Just yesterday, Ash and I were sitting in the McDonalds drive through waiting on her burger and fries when “Strawberry Fields” came on the IPOD. I said then….” I will love this song to the day I die.” And that tune is already 43 years old. It is older than the average age of American citizens. More than half of all the citizens in this country weren’t even thought of when that famous video and song played on “American Bandstand” in 1967.
At one time, it may have sounded pretentious to say that the Beatles were timeless. When the memory was fresh and new and their foibles of youth were fresh on the front pages on magazine and newspaper, people would have scoffed. In an era where Lennon’s quote “We’re more popular than Jesus” raised more than eyebrows and inspired a few LP bonfires, they did not seem so immortal. At a time when their personal soap operas were as much a part of their mystique as was the music, there would have been doubts.
Today, far removed from the crisis over LSD revelations, from Yoko and the Maharishi, their music must stand alone. It is not solely a reprehensive of an era of Peace signs and drug use, but something that proved to be more enduring than a simple pop song.
Yes, the Beatles were a phenomena that may never be repeated. They were at the right place at the right time. They are as close to a Wild Stallion from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” as any band may ever be. Not only did they reflect a time, but they helped mold it as well.
Yes… they were the first band to use feedback as a musical tool (“I Feel Fine”) and were the first to intentionally hide backwards sounds in songs (“rain”) in an attempt to stretch the studio beyond their limited capacities. The Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” on June 1st, 1967, and it served as a fitting soundtrack for the psychedelic Summer of Love. Pop music took a quantum leap with its release.
They also legitimized the hippie look, with their new longer hair, beard and mustaches first previewed to the world through the two promo films of “Strawberry Fields” and “Penny Lane.” The watching dancers on “American Bandstand” were slightly traumatized, but I imagine it was not too long before they too were trying to decipher the words and meanings in Sgt. Pepper and its dazzling cover art.
In ’68, the Fab Four traveled to India to broaden their minds and spirits. A change took place there, influenced by Harrison’s spiritual pursuits into eastern philosophy which impacted the one time mop tops and made a lasting impression in their music and word play. Sitars rang out in western pop songs. References to Hindu chants and philosophy littered songs not only by Harrison but also Lennon. Eastern ideas on meditation and life made their first accepted forays into modern culture since the days of Jack Kerouac and his Dharma Bums from the fringe beatnik culture of the 50’s.
In a scant seven years on the international scene, they left a mark on society in indelible ink. They influenced generations of writers, singers and musicians. They left behind in their wake others who might never see the impact of their own music reach such proportions, regardless of talent, because the time and the place had changed.
But it was not all time and place. Yes.. Those things have importance, no doubt, but whether it is the simple “She Loves You” or the transcendental “I Am the Walrus”, the music itself touched our collective hearts. It had characteristics of the classical (“Eleanor Rigby”) and of metal (“helter Skelter”). IT was an English ballad (“Martha My Dear”) and a psychedelic anthem (“Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”). It was about eastern mysticism (“Its All Too Much”) and it was a simple love song (“I Will”).
Joihn, Paul, George and Ringo can not be categorized. They can not be stuffed into a neat box of explanation. And, maybe it is because they stopped when they were on top of the world that they are still there, their 40 year old songs still echoing across the airwaves, Wii games and IPODs into a new century.
Tonight, on a hot and humid Oklahoma evening, as sweat trickled down my face, I sang along at the top of my lungs as Bradio played the chords to “Here Comes the Sun”, because of those four guys from the poor side of Liverpool, somehow I truly believe that “Here comes the sun and it’s alright.”
Ash and I just came home from the Fifth Night live concert series at Utica Square in Tulsa. Every Thursday night they have live music there. Two weeks ago I saw Admiral Twin, a band I have followed d for years and tonight we saw Bradio, once called The Brady Orchestra.
Bradio has set out on a monumentous task… to recreate the music of the Beatles! A couple years ago, they played Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper in their entirety. It was pretty spectacular. From” Here Comes The Sun” to “Her majesty”… Brady Orchestra rocked out. They created a faithful rendition of probably history’s greatest side of any single album.
The fi4st time they did this at Utica Square, Fletch and I had made the pilgrimage to hear the Beatle tunes. Later, they played at a bike race function n and we went to hear “Rubber Soul” in its entirety.
I was talking with an old high school buddy today, Larry Lutts. One of the things we reminisced about was a band we used to go listen to in a couple of Tulsa bars in the late 70’s. The band was called “US Kids” and they did something in their show at the club ‘Whiskers’ that I had never heard. They played “Magical Mystery Tour” faithfully to the album cut. When the first couple chords rang out, Larry and I looked at each other, long neck beer in our clenched hands.. and mumbled in unison… “Holy Shit!”
So what is it? What is it about a band that disbanded 40 years ago and released their last LP (“Let IT Be”_) 40 years ago this past May? What is it about their music that draws a full house to the musical tribute of local musicians? What is it about their music that brings a tear to my eye even today when I sing along with “Here Comes the Sun” or “Strawberry Fields Forever?”
Just yesterday, Ash and I were sitting in the McDonalds drive through waiting on her burger and fries when “Strawberry Fields” came on the IPOD. I said then….” I will love this song to the day I die.” And that tune is already 43 years old. It is older than the average age of American citizens. More than half of all the citizens in this country weren’t even thought of when that famous video and song played on “American Bandstand” in 1967.
At one time, it may have sounded pretentious to say that the Beatles were timeless. When the memory was fresh and new and their foibles of youth were fresh on the front pages on magazine and newspaper, people would have scoffed. In an era where Lennon’s quote “We’re more popular than Jesus” raised more than eyebrows and inspired a few LP bonfires, they did not seem so immortal. At a time when their personal soap operas were as much a part of their mystique as was the music, there would have been doubts.
Today, far removed from the crisis over LSD revelations, from Yoko and the Maharishi, their music must stand alone. It is not solely a reprehensive of an era of Peace signs and drug use, but something that proved to be more enduring than a simple pop song.
Yes, the Beatles were a phenomena that may never be repeated. They were at the right place at the right time. They are as close to a Wild Stallion from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” as any band may ever be. Not only did they reflect a time, but they helped mold it as well.
Yes… they were the first band to use feedback as a musical tool (“I Feel Fine”) and were the first to intentionally hide backwards sounds in songs (“rain”) in an attempt to stretch the studio beyond their limited capacities. The Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” on June 1st, 1967, and it served as a fitting soundtrack for the psychedelic Summer of Love. Pop music took a quantum leap with its release.
They also legitimized the hippie look, with their new longer hair, beard and mustaches first previewed to the world through the two promo films of “Strawberry Fields” and “Penny Lane.” The watching dancers on “American Bandstand” were slightly traumatized, but I imagine it was not too long before they too were trying to decipher the words and meanings in Sgt. Pepper and its dazzling cover art.
In ’68, the Fab Four traveled to India to broaden their minds and spirits. A change took place there, influenced by Harrison’s spiritual pursuits into eastern philosophy which impacted the one time mop tops and made a lasting impression in their music and word play. Sitars rang out in western pop songs. References to Hindu chants and philosophy littered songs not only by Harrison but also Lennon. Eastern ideas on meditation and life made their first accepted forays into modern culture since the days of Jack Kerouac and his Dharma Bums from the fringe beatnik culture of the 50’s.
In a scant seven years on the international scene, they left a mark on society in indelible ink. They influenced generations of writers, singers and musicians. They left behind in their wake others who might never see the impact of their own music reach such proportions, regardless of talent, because the time and the place had changed.
But it was not all time and place. Yes.. Those things have importance, no doubt, but whether it is the simple “She Loves You” or the transcendental “I Am the Walrus”, the music itself touched our collective hearts. It had characteristics of the classical (“Eleanor Rigby”) and of metal (“helter Skelter”). IT was an English ballad (“Martha My Dear”) and a psychedelic anthem (“Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”). It was about eastern mysticism (“Its All Too Much”) and it was a simple love song (“I Will”).
Joihn, Paul, George and Ringo can not be categorized. They can not be stuffed into a neat box of explanation. And, maybe it is because they stopped when they were on top of the world that they are still there, their 40 year old songs still echoing across the airwaves, Wii games and IPODs into a new century.
Tonight, on a hot and humid Oklahoma evening, as sweat trickled down my face, I sang along at the top of my lungs as Bradio played the chords to “Here Comes the Sun”, because of those four guys from the poor side of Liverpool, somehow I truly believe that “Here comes the sun and it’s alright.”
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Zen Music Moment- Opieland hotel
During November of 2008, Ashley traveled to Nashville for the national English teachers convention. I took the chance to go with her.... and stayed at the Eddie gaylord "Opieland".. a sprawling expanse of hotels, convention centers, shops, Bars and restaurants all under one protective dome. Gaylord had built a city of the future... like the domed cities of sci fi.
While Ash attended the convention, I wandered thew dome. It was intricate and each area was themed. I checked the maps often to make sure I wasn't lost when we were supposed to meet.
That evening, Ash and I decided to find a bar with live music and settle in for a couple beers. We checked out the Irish PUb for a while and then settled in a small club with a 3 piece guitar band on stage.
The guys were good. They played a great selection of tunes and the bar seemed to be getting into the music. I know we were.
Then.. THAT GUY showed up. The one who is drunk... who wants everyone to see and hear him. The obnoxious and irrepressible class clown who thinks he is funnier than he really is.... the village idiot.
He began by yelling song titles at the band. Then his southern rock brain cells, freed by copious amonts of alcohol, kicked into high gear.
"Freebird! Freebird!" he chanted over and over... at the end of each song, during the song.... and even offering money for the band to play tyhat clssic that radio has done so much to wear out.
At last, the singer stopped and addressed the moron.
"I knew you would be here tonight. I didn't know when or what you would look like, but... I knew you would be here."
Why is it there is always that idiot or his clone that shows up at a show? recently at a Cross Canadian ragweed show in OKC, some dumbass hits the lead singer with a Jack Daniels bottle? I was at a Todd Rundgren solo show in Tulsa where during a slow "Can We still be friends"... a beer bottle whizzes across the stage and over the piano. At another show at Cain's Ballroom, Rundgren stops the show because some dumbass... a clone to the pone in Nashville... is talking so loudly by the stage... that peoiple around him are having trouble hearing the concert. He was much more interested i trying to get into the pants of the woman there than the show he had apparently paid for.... and that we had paid for.
These guys.. always guys.. keep showing up. UGh... even as non-violent as I am, I fantasize choking them in guitar chords... dismembering g them with drum sticks...hanging hem from the stage lights ....
but it's only a fantasy.
While Ash attended the convention, I wandered thew dome. It was intricate and each area was themed. I checked the maps often to make sure I wasn't lost when we were supposed to meet.
That evening, Ash and I decided to find a bar with live music and settle in for a couple beers. We checked out the Irish PUb for a while and then settled in a small club with a 3 piece guitar band on stage.
The guys were good. They played a great selection of tunes and the bar seemed to be getting into the music. I know we were.
Then.. THAT GUY showed up. The one who is drunk... who wants everyone to see and hear him. The obnoxious and irrepressible class clown who thinks he is funnier than he really is.... the village idiot.
He began by yelling song titles at the band. Then his southern rock brain cells, freed by copious amonts of alcohol, kicked into high gear.
"Freebird! Freebird!" he chanted over and over... at the end of each song, during the song.... and even offering money for the band to play tyhat clssic that radio has done so much to wear out.
At last, the singer stopped and addressed the moron.
"I knew you would be here tonight. I didn't know when or what you would look like, but... I knew you would be here."
Why is it there is always that idiot or his clone that shows up at a show? recently at a Cross Canadian ragweed show in OKC, some dumbass hits the lead singer with a Jack Daniels bottle? I was at a Todd Rundgren solo show in Tulsa where during a slow "Can We still be friends"... a beer bottle whizzes across the stage and over the piano. At another show at Cain's Ballroom, Rundgren stops the show because some dumbass... a clone to the pone in Nashville... is talking so loudly by the stage... that peoiple around him are having trouble hearing the concert. He was much more interested i trying to get into the pants of the woman there than the show he had apparently paid for.... and that we had paid for.
These guys.. always guys.. keep showing up. UGh... even as non-violent as I am, I fantasize choking them in guitar chords... dismembering g them with drum sticks...hanging hem from the stage lights ....
but it's only a fantasy.
Zen Music Moment
A couple years ago, Ash and I made a trip to New Orleans. I am pretty sure it was late JUne.
We stayed in a hotel on the French Quarter so we could eb close to the action at Bourbon Street and the night life. We were looking forward to exploring the place, eating some benet for breakfast and listening to jazz or Cajun music in the evening bars.
We left late morning on foot, wandering through the area armed with our tourist map and sun screen. It was hot... damn hot! The humidity was incredible. We visited voodoo shops for the air conditioning! We chose a restaurant because it looked the coolest. Our walk along side the Mississippi left others wondering which was wetter... the river or the heavy sweating couple form Oklahoma.
Finally, exhausted and drenched, we stumbled upon the famous bar, J Patrick O'Malleys. We wobbled in... ordered the famous Hurricane drink... a tall, red concoction that we drank quickly to quench our parched bodies. The alcohol went straight to my head.
We ended up in one of the many rooms with music. In that particular room, two women played dueling pianos through a collection of pop songs.
Meanwhile, the sweat began to cool against our skin. The Hurricane drink settled blissfully in my brain. and we breathed a collective sigh of relief while we sat exhausted in the piano bar.
Suddenly the two women started the strangest version I have ever heard of a 70's rock classic. The first chords on the piano sounded strangely familiar. "I think they're playing 'FReebird'" I mumbled to Ashley across the table.
AS the two women traded vocals and piano on the Skynard classic, we could only look at each other, grin foolishly and stifle the giggles that seemed to want to spill forth.
For some reason, at that moment, sweaty and dehydrated, O'Malley's Hurricane coursing through my brain, that version of "Freebird" seemd to be the most surreal song I had evebr experienced.
Wail on Ladies... wail on.
We stayed in a hotel on the French Quarter so we could eb close to the action at Bourbon Street and the night life. We were looking forward to exploring the place, eating some benet for breakfast and listening to jazz or Cajun music in the evening bars.
We left late morning on foot, wandering through the area armed with our tourist map and sun screen. It was hot... damn hot! The humidity was incredible. We visited voodoo shops for the air conditioning! We chose a restaurant because it looked the coolest. Our walk along side the Mississippi left others wondering which was wetter... the river or the heavy sweating couple form Oklahoma.
Finally, exhausted and drenched, we stumbled upon the famous bar, J Patrick O'Malleys. We wobbled in... ordered the famous Hurricane drink... a tall, red concoction that we drank quickly to quench our parched bodies. The alcohol went straight to my head.
We ended up in one of the many rooms with music. In that particular room, two women played dueling pianos through a collection of pop songs.
Meanwhile, the sweat began to cool against our skin. The Hurricane drink settled blissfully in my brain. and we breathed a collective sigh of relief while we sat exhausted in the piano bar.
Suddenly the two women started the strangest version I have ever heard of a 70's rock classic. The first chords on the piano sounded strangely familiar. "I think they're playing 'FReebird'" I mumbled to Ashley across the table.
AS the two women traded vocals and piano on the Skynard classic, we could only look at each other, grin foolishly and stifle the giggles that seemed to want to spill forth.
For some reason, at that moment, sweaty and dehydrated, O'Malley's Hurricane coursing through my brain, that version of "Freebird" seemd to be the most surreal song I had evebr experienced.
Wail on Ladies... wail on.
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