Bond, Savings Bond

My collecting days are over. Way over. I never really collected anything anyway. I bought a lot of junk, real junk. I liked buying junk. It made me happy. Then it became this giant chain around my neck. All of a sudden I was being forced to justify being surrounded by this junk. I had always thought that wanting something was reason enough to have it. The wheels seem to have come off on that train of thought.

I have managed to rid myself of a lot of the junk, passed it on to other junk lovers, sold it at garage sales, on eBay and now Craig's list. There is still a lot of junk, don't get me wrong. Guitars that I will never really play, books that I probably won't ever read, records that I may never listen to again. All of this junk sits there and sends out an ever weakening signal, pleading with me to pick it up, dust it off and recapture a bit of the spark that went off when we first met.

Yet there is room in my life for one more piece of junk. It's my holy grail of junk, the one thing that ever since it left my life, so many years ago, I have been trying to replace it.

The James Bond Attache Case.

I was one of the lucky ones. I had this toy as a boy. I have never loved any material item more. I played with it constantly, putting together the rifle, setting up the booby traps and basically threating my sister with constant bodily harm. Things took a turn for the better when I found out I could load a pencil into the single shot that was built into the case and shoot it right through sheet rock. Those were the days! Besides the gun, the highlight of the toy was the secret decoder. Sadly, I didn't know one other junior agent with whom I could trade secret messages. Now that I am in my fifties and no longer have this toy it seems as if every other guy I meet is trying to get theirs back as well.

And try is about all we can do.

They are pretty much up on eBay all of the time and if you find one that has all of the pieces (especially the knife and the golf pencil with "007" embossed on the side) you can expect to pay close to a thousand bucks. There is even a cottage industry of repro items for the toy - the bullets, the knife, the handle, the silencer, the money, business cards, instructions and original box can all be purchased as repros to complete your set.

I've come close a few times and I keep waiting for my wife to understand and buy me the damn thing. Sadly, that will never happen. After my little health scare this year I was determined to do a bunch of the things that I have been putting off. So far, I have put off trying to do the things I have been putting off. But something tells me this will be the year of the James Bond Attache.

The Mets Lose! THE MEEEEEETTTTTSSSS LOSE!

My wife has issues with the fact that I enjoy seeing the Mets lose and that the fact that they lost the division on the last day of the season makes me giddy. "How can you take pleasure in other's pain," she asks. Oh, it's easy, believe me.

I have been trying to remember why I became a Mets hater. I grew up in a Mets house and wasn't much of a baseball fan until I was a teenager. It wasn't a very hard choice as to which of the local teams was the better choice. One seemed to win all of the time - or at least had a long winning tradition, while the other just lost. Constantly. The Yankees had legendary names attached to their roster, while the Mets ... didn't. And the colors! Orange and blue. Not for this boy.

Maybe its because I had a couple of guitars stolen from the Shea Stadium parking lot, including my treasured '69 Telecaster. Maybe its because so many Met fans are assholes (excluding my father, father-in-law, brother-in-law and you, of course). Maybe it's just because the Mets suck.

I think it's much tougher for anyone to explain why they are a Mets fan. Outside of some displaced family loyalty, why anyone would choose to follow this miserable excuse for a baseball team is beyond me.

I didn't get to watch the last out of their incredible slide. Too bad. I really wanted to see what kind of hand shake Jose Reyes had ready for that. Then again, he probably didn't realize that there were three outs.

Magic In The Air

I am standing on the boardwalk in Asbury Park, the once and future diamond of the New Jersey coastline and I can literally feel the sands shifting beneath my feet. I don't visit here often, but in the past decade I have traveled here with some regularity. Unfortunately, I never visited during the town's glory days - instead I have only seen the ghosts of it's well-sung past. It has always puzzled me that how a stretch of beautiful ocean front property could fall into such disrepair, especially when it seems as if it would be able generate considerable revenue if kept up.

This year however, change is in the air. The crumbling buildings that gave the area a sense of gloom have been knocked to the ground. New construction is taking place, as are renovations of some classic buildings. The Stone Pony and The Wonder Bar still stand, however the Wonder Bar will close this week, not to return. As far as the Pony, I am not sure of its fate.

Last year, when I was here to see Bruce Springsteen rehearse the Seeger Sessions Band, I ducked into the old Hojo's for a beer while my sister waited on the general admission line. I don't even know if the place had a name, but it was a pretty sad affair. Now it is a very upscale restaurant, with outdoor seating on the boardwalk. I'm pretty sure the beer cost me a bit more this year, but the upgrade was worth it. There are other new additions to the boardwalk - a few galleries and t-shirt shops. Madam Marie is still standing if you want to get a peak into the future, but for all intents and purposes, things are looking up for Asbury Park.

All things considered it still must take a leap of faith to be among the first to open while the city slowly rebuilds around you. I wish them well. I hope that someday soon I will get a chance to walk down the boardwalk, grab a beer and hear the sounds of rock and roll bands blasting out of the clubs along the strip and perhaps see, feel and hear a few ghosts of the past.

There was no leap of faith in what brought me to Asbury Park on Tuesday night. Once again, for the third tour in a row, I was lucky to get tickets to see Bruce Springsteen warm up his band for the upcoming tour.

What can I say? The band and the Boss sounded great. The new songs are fantastic. There were no major surprises in regards to older songs - he did do "Thundercrack" in the encore and the night before performed "Something In The Night." I thought the pacing was a little off, but that's what these shows are all about.

It has been 34 years since my first Bruce Springsteen concert. That is a lot of water under the bridge. At 58, the days of jumping off the piano and the classic knee slide across the stage are behind him. No matter. There have been a lot of changes along the way and in the past few years I have seem some incredible shows.

Of course I am a die hard, biased fan. Was a time when if you told me that you didn't care for Springsteen I would take it as a personal challenge to show you the error of your ways. Sometimes I made a conversion, sometimes not. Now I just smile and let it pass. Who needs another fool in front of me on line. Like Bruce, there are some things that I am just getting too old to deal with.

Once A King ....

It was a pleasure hanging out with my old friend Mark Gamsjager and his band The Lustre Kings at Matty T's this past Saturday night. It had been way too long since I had seen Mark and it was great to catch up, talk about the kids, and play some rock and roll music.

No matter what you think of Matty T's you have to admit that there is no place else like it - at least not for a few hundred miles. Maybe the vibe comes from the location which can best described as somewhere between desolate and creepy. Certainly the honky tonk hardwood floor and the split rail fence that surrounds it adds a bit of flavor, as does the washtubs behind the bar that hold that evening's beer specials. But it's the mix of people who show up that really make Matty's special. Well maybe not special, but definitely different. Ok, weird - but weird in a good way.

What a mix of people it is! There are the dancers, of course. This is their joint, their dance floor and rightfully so. Even within that group there are different flavors - you have your urban cowboys and cowgirls, doing it right from the heels of their boots to the tops of their Stetson's. Add to that a few biker types, a few soccer moms, a couple of guys who are barely out of their PJs and you have quite an eclectic bunch.

Then you have the folks who come down to see the bands, which in this case were people like my friends and you know what kind of people they are.

But the most confusing group are these younger guys and gals who look like this is the last place on earth they would want to be - yet there they are. Maybe they come for the $2 beers or perhaps they thought that Spike - the mechanical bull - was scheduled for that night. Who knows.

The Blaggards were first up and we did our thing, mostly without incident. I had forgotten to print out set lists and all we had was a printed email of the set. Since we are a bunch of vain bastards and don't wear our glasses on stage, none of us could read it, making for some comical moments. I also forgot to pull the capo off and started a song in the wrong key while the band scrambled - and quite adeptly made the change. The dancers came on and off the dance floor as they always do, depending on the BPM of the song. It's such a strange situation - you don't really want to cater to them, but you feel good when the dance floor is filled - that is until you realize that they are not really listening to the music, but counting the beats, most of them concentrating so hard on the steps and turns that they have this vacant look on their face making you feel as if you are playing to a bunch of carousel ponies spinning around, going up and down.

The Lustre Kings took the stage and rocked. Mark, as always, is a great entertainer and band leader - and a terrific guitar player no matter how he tries to downplay his talents. As always he surrounds himself with terrific musicians and pulls off the very rare feat of sounding both authentically rootsy and modern at the same time. The set included tunes from the band's latest CD including the great title track, "Way Out There."

The night ended with Mark bringing up guests including a surprise call to the bouncer who sang a couple of Elvis tunes - and did a great job. It was like old times - when Mark was living on Long Island, this was Saturday night - rockin' out at the PI or Costello's, passing around the Gretsch, taking turns at the mic, closing the joint down and heading to the nearest diner for cheeseburgers and french fries with gravy.

Another Summer Gone

Last weekend The Blaggards filled in for our good friends The Lone Sharks at Nick's in Montauk. It was big time fun. The weather was great, if a bit cold, but that didn't stop folks from coming by having a few cocktails and listening to the band. The staff at Nick's could not be any cooler and I think we will be a part of their line up come next summer.

Our summer was mostly spent on the East End this year. We had some great gigs on Shelter Island - the Fireman's annual event, always a treat, and a swinging night at the Dory a few weekend's ago after Joe Lauro's annual Beach Blast. A big highlight for us was being asked to take part in the legendary Barge Party - a floating event for the aquatically inclined. The weather was stunning, the beer plentiful and Mick's boat sea-worthy.

There were a few shows at the Talkhouse this summer and that's always a good time if only to play on that stage aside from the god-awful single-coil buzz. We had a spot after Sonny Landreth which turned out to be a great night due mainly to the incredible support of a few very nice looking fans. We are lucky to have a small, but good-looking fan base.

This weekend we are hooking up with The Lustre Kings for a swingin' Saturday night at Matty T's in Deer Park. It's been a while since I've seen Mark and the boys and I'm really looking forward to hanging out. It's going to be a lot of fun, so come on down if you're in the area.

Elvis, Still Dead

This year August 16th rolled around and if not for a quick late night trip to the store I would have not have heard an Elvis song that day or seen a news report about the 30th anniversary of his passing. The 50s channel on the XM was doing a nice job of playing tribute - the DJ was touching on the King's spiritual side. An alternate take of "Peace In The Valley" was playing when I pulled into the parking lot of the local Stop N Shop.

As I stepped inside the store I couldn't help but notice a large display of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I was never a fan and now they are completely off of my diet radar, but this was no ordinary candy.

It was a special edition Elvis Peanut Butter and Banana version, complete with his portrait on the wrapper.

A special edition candy bar to commemorate his passing.

Of all the Elvis myths/legends I am especially fond of the peanut butter and banana sandwich stories mainly because I actually like them but I thought that this was a little odd. I definitely began to question the Elvis estate and its new owner's intent.

I started to remember the background of the peanut butter and banana sandwich. There is the simple story as told by longtime Graceland cook/housekeeper Pauline Nicholson who claims to have prepared them for Elvis. But Elvis Presley's personal nurse, Marian Cocke, says she never saw him with one in hand and she is backed up by Lisa Marie. From there the tales get bigger - from Elvis wolfing down a dozen or so sandwiches at a time to him dispatching his private jet, the Lisa Marie, off to Denver to pickup a few from a favorite restaurant.

There are variations of the sandwich itself, sometimes with bacon, sometimes with honey. The Denver variant was a full loaf of french bread, deep fried. I prefer the basic two ingredients, on buttered bread pan grilled in a cast iron skillet.

Now I admit that I have had fun with this little slice of the Elvis pie. I have made variations of the sandwich to serve at parties, including peanut butter and banana in puff paistry and bacon wrapped peanut butter and pineapple incorporating some of the Hawaiian aspect as well.

But a candy bar to mark thirty years gone?

Why the hell not? The packaging was actually quite cool - the Reese's trademark orange worked well with the 70's art and image (with 50s and 60s variants) and they have a good contest to support the launch - click here to enter.

What exactly are we suppose to do on this day? If you're not one of the pilgrims holding candles by the gates what is the plan? Take the day off? Not likely. Spend the day listening to Elvis? That could be any day. An All-Elvis movie marathon? Please.

Heat up the skillet and let's get cooking.

There were a few other interesting Elvis events to mark the occaison, the most notable was a newly recorded duet between Lisa Marie and her dad revisiting "In The Ghetto." Early on Lisa made a point of saying this was the kind of thing she just not do, to which we responded "Are you out of your mind?" Your his daughter! This is your legacy. Sheesh. It's about time.

Me And The Boy

Heading towards what will be the first Christmas that Liam will have some idea of what's going on I find myself wondering just how much the little guy understands the world around him. Certainly he's got his parents number - we get conned on a daily basis. If he wasn't so darn cute I would have a real problem with him!

My 80's Past

First it was YouTube. Pat Bishow starting posting vintage Mosquito videos much to the delight of tens of people. My associates at the office, especially the *younger* ones, certainly got a kick out of them. It was fun to see them and I have to get off my ass and post some stuff that I have. Now there is a fierce bidding war on eBay for the Mosquitos EP, a sealed copy no less. Actually there are two bids, with the current bid at $36. Considering I just bought the new Who CD for $9.99 I am impressed.

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=230047946329&ssPageName=ADME:B:EF:US:1

Rebel, Rebel

Most of us who play guitar become someone different when we strap on our instrument. Ralph Santiago transformed into Ralph Rebel when he came to play. I knew Ralph from the rockabilly scene and to be honest I thought he came off as a bit of a snob but the man could play, was a talented producer and his love and respect for the genre was the real deal. Its upsetting that the unfortunate events that led up to him taking the cure will perhaps define the man and it is a sad example of how selfish and uncaring the media can be. That being said I will point you here where you can check out Ralph's musical legacy. Rock on brother.

The Little Willies

I heard the Little Willies on the radio and thought they sounded pretty good. Then I found out that Norah Jones was in the band. Now I hate them.

Life is funny that way.

The Elvis Show Must Go On!

Saturday, January 7th, 2006. By the time the curtain dropped on Elvis Show IX in 1998, we had done just about everything. We had singing dentists and insurance agents. We had a kid bring down the house. We had an actual replica of Elvis and Priscilla's wedding cake on stage. I had been brought on stage on a surfboard. There was an Elvis poet who recited poems specially written for the show. We had performed such chartbusters as "Do The Clam" and "Yoga Is As Yoga Does." The last three years were sold-out performances in a 600 seat theater. And then it all ended.

The reasons were many. First there was greed. The owner of the IMAC theater in Huntington had charged us $2500 to rent the room for the past three years. I was lucky enough to find a sponsor every year to cover this cost, so we could donate all of the proceeds to charity. I made my annual call and was told that the fee was going to be double - $5000 - due in part to "trouble he had with a Zen Tricksters show." What that had to do with my show I will never know. But that was just too much money to ask anybody to pony up and I had to find a room that would accomodate what had become a pretty huge undertaking with over 20 musicians and 40 plus singers taking part.

Then a death in the family took a lot of the wind out of our sails. That, combined with some fragile relationships between core band members led to my decision to call it off for that year. Which then turned into an eight year layoff. Thing is it was a lot like hitting your head against the wall - you don't realize how good it feels to stop! Not that it wasn't always a great event - with great people, but it was a lot of work. And when it slipped away, it was easier to let it go then to reel it back in.

Well, it's back.

After getting the call from Scotto I wasn't quite sure that I could put anything together in a week. My current band, The Blaggards, were on a hiatus so that wasn't going to work. Then Scott told me that Mike Bifulco said he was "ready to anything I needed." If that was the case, then what had to be done was obvious - I had to put together the old band - and with a few phone calls, The Purple Gang was set to ride again.

I knew that there would be no problem getting singers involved. Because this happened with such short notice - I only had a week before the gig - I couldn't have an open call like past Elvis shows. So I sent out a few emails to the guys who had been there from the beginning - Tom Ciorciari, Tom Pfeifer, Roy Wilson, Jon Geffner, Mike Drance and Tom Gould. Drance and Geffner called with regrets, but I was glad to get a call from Gary Jude Anderson and Pete Ludivicio, both long time Elvis Show performers. To round it out and continue the Elvis Show tradition, we had a couple of newbies - Bill Walsh and Keith Hille.

We decided that since this was a comeback of sorts, we would pay tribute to the '68 Comeback Special and open the show with an acoustic session. We had two rehersals, one with the band and the singers and one for the acoustic set. Then it was showtime!



The bar, a joint called Drew's in Centerport was small. Really, really small. I was told that it was small, but I had no idea. We set up best we could and hit the stage. The opening set was a blast. We went around trading songs with Memphis Mike slapping away on a Rendezvous ribs box. Then after a short break the band took the stage. It didn't feel like 8 years since I had last played with these guys - and, if I say so myself, it didn't sound like either. We ran through the 30-plus song set without stopping, bringing up each singer with great support from the crowd, which was flowing out through the door. It was fun to watch the expression on some of the regulars who came in wondering what the hell was going on! There were girls dancing on the bar, a rockin' band and great hair everywhere you looked. This was no ordinary Saturday night in Centerport!

Everybody rocked. Gary Jude, recovering from a stroke and walking with a cane, still had boundless energy. New comers Bill Walsh and Keith Hille fit right in and are welcome back anytime. All the regulars - Tom C, Tom P, Tom G, Roy Wilson, Pete - delivered as they always do. Even Scotto got in the act as a guitar was passed around during Little Sister for solos.

I have to really hand it off to the band - Mike Bifulco, who is as good as it gets on guitar; Sean O'Neil, just the go-to guy for something like this; and, of course, Memphis Mike who's love for the music makes everything real. The crowd was great, too. I don't know what it is about the Elvis Show audience, but they just get it. They support everybody who steps on that stage, giving big cheers to all. However I think that the biggest cheer of the night came when I announced that after the eight year layoff, we would be doing the show again on a yearly basis. I'm not saying that it is going to be on the level of the last few Elvis shows, but we'll see what happens.

You can see a clip from this year's show here.

It's Official - I Am The World's Worst Blogger

Try as I may, I never seem to have the time to write posts for my blog. Not that the world is waiting for each of my little stories - but if for no other reason just to add my views and opinions on to the scrap heap that we call the world wide web. But it is a new year - happy new year, btw - and hopefully things will improve. I do want to continue with the Mosquito story and keep tabs on my new band, The Blaggards who - if I do say so myself - rock quite rightly.

For me and mine 2006 has begun on a great note. My son Liam is at the zenith of little guy glory and at 18 months, a bonafide genius (in his parent's opinion). As I mentioned earlier, my band is sounding great and the addition of Mick Hargreaves on bass has really taken things up a level. A great player, singer and a very cool guy as well.

Right after the new year I received a call from none other than Scott Savit (Hey Steve! It's Scotty Watty Do Dah Day!). I see/hear from Scotto about once a year so it's always a treat. He was looking to put on an Elvis birthday tribute at some local pub - still doing his thing - and was reaching out to me out of respect. It has been some years since I did the last Elvis Show and I had passed on his request last year, handing over to Roy Wilson and the Buzzards. I was about to do the same this year when he mentioned that Mike Bifulco had told him to tell me that "he was ready, willing and able to do anything that I needed."

For those of you who do not know Mike the thing you need to know is that he is supremely talented individual. And when Mike is up for something you are guaranteed to have a good time. We had played together for years, first in the Purple Gang and then the Bluebeats, but in the past few years had lost touch. It didn't matter - we got together to go over some of the songs and it was great.

And with that, the Elvis Show was back. A phone call to Memphis Mike, who then called Sean O'Neil and like that the Purple Gang was back for one big night. This was going to be an old-school Elvis Show - no production numbers, no big band - just the Gang, back in a bar, inviting friends up to celebrate the King. One rehearsal - 45 songs! - and it's showtime!

It wasn't possible to put out an open call, but I reached out to some of the originals. Tom Pfeifer, Tom Coriciari and Roy Wilson, who had performed at all 10 previous Elvis Shows came right on board. Joe Rock and Tom Gould who have been highlights of the more recent shows answered the call. Sadly, originals Jon Geffner and Mike Drance couldn't make it due to prior commitments. Then I get a call from the man himself - Gary Jude Anderson! Gary, who had a stroke earlier this year, was also an original performer. And to keep the tradition alive a few new faces will make the scene.

We decided we would kick off the night '68 special style - sitting around doing an acoustic thing before th band kicks in. Don't worry - I will NOT be dressed in a leather suit!

It all happens at a little joint called Drew's in Centerport on Saturday, January 7th. No cover and no guarantees. If you are around, come down and kick off the year Elvis style!

Think I'm Going Back

Its been a very interesting year for me concert-wise, kind of a turn back the clock type of thing as I celebrate my fiftieth year. Most of the artists I've seen this year I saw perform in the mid seventies. Dylan, Springsteen, McCartney, Brian Wilson, Stevie Windwood and Cream - well, I had never seen Cream. All great shows with some degree of a nostalgic vibe, some more than others.

Springsteen is on an solo tour and I caught one of his rehearsal performances. While I did get swept back when he pulled out some of the early ones, Bruce is a man in the moment. Dylan, even more so. There is absolutely nothing nostalgic about a Bob Dylan show except the audience, most of whom seem to look like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons. But seeing Dylan brings me back to 1972 and The Concert For Bangladesh. Iain Morrison and I went to the afternoon show. It was a big deal, seeing all those guys on stage but the big buzz was about Dylan in a much talked about secret appearance. (Side note: Recently Tom Ryan played a side of one of Leon Russell's 70's releases after one of our band rehearals. It was killer from every angle.)

I am way to biased to talk about Brian Wilson - but Smile at Jones Beach was sublime - and although the other part of his show does run a bit like an oldies act - what oldies act do you know that can pull "God Only Knows" or "Warmth Of The Sun" out of their pocket? Seeing Smile after having to give up my Carnegie Hall tickets was the first musical gift I received this year. I hope Brian Wilson lives to be one hundred years old. Brian brings me back into the sixties, especially 1968, the year my Aunt Millie gave me a repackaged 3-LP set that Capitol put out. The set included "Pet Sounds" which sounded like the best thing in the world to me then - and as it does now.

I don't think Paul McCartney will ever be labeled an oldies act. Especially if he continues to perform the way he has on these past two tours. Incredible band who almost fade into the background as your mind just fills out the picture with John, George and Ringo. There's always the few new tunes to deal with - but "Fine Line" from the latest record is actually pretty good. With the mortality rate in the Beatles and the fact that Paul can still bring it, I always consider the chance to catch one of his shows a gift.

Seeing Cream was - I thought - the icing on the cake. Loved this band. Still listen to them - although sometimes I do shout "ENOUGH ALREADY" and lunge for the next track button. The show was great and I thought it was an awesome way to cap off my musical journey into my past.

But waiting in the wings, coming to bat and hitting it out of the park is my main guy - Bruce. The 30th Anniversary release of
"Born To Run" came out today. The re-mastered album sounds terrific and the "making of" documentary is pretty informative and funny. But the main attraction is the concert disc from his performance at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1975.

I can't go into my Bruce Springsteen experience during the 70's in too much detail as it pretty much touches on almost my entire life during those years. In the documentary Springsteen says that it was easy to spend months working on the record since he was "25 years old and had nothing to do and nowhere to go" - an almost spot-on description of me as well, but I think he worked a bit harder at changing things then I did. What I can say about seeing Bruce Springsteen in the 1970s is "I hope you saw Bruce Springsteen in the 1970s."

Seeing this concert was like teleporting back in time. Its not be the greatest Springsteen show ever filmed and you will find yourself hoping to hear a certain version or a changed lyric that stuck in your head for years. But this is the band, this is their time and yes, they have gotten better over the years, but they were never more exciting then they were then. Even with the funny hats and shiny suits.

Getting the re-mastered "Born To Run" would have been great all by itself. This concert disc - along with three incredible performances from 1973 on the documentary disc - are yet another gift. I don't think anything can top this unless its revealed that Moon and Entwistle aren't really dead, just getting out of a very long rehab.

Look! Up In The Sky!

Recently I have been spending my nights watching episodes of "The Adventures Of Superman" on the newly released first season DVD set. This has always been one of my all-time favorite shows and although it still probably being broadcast on one of the zillion cable channels, I haven't seen it in years. Its a treat to watch them in order, starting with the rarely seen origin episode which although dated still keeps the story true to its comic book beginnings. While the effects are pretty much laughable in this CGI world, there is still an undeniable sense of quality to these shows in the writing and acting, especially on the part of George Reeves. Lizz, who basically hates science fiction, has been watching and enjoying these, probably because of their retro charm. She can almost recite the opening monologue!

I can remember coming home from school and waiting to hear that exciting opening ... "Faster than a speeding bullet!" I hope that somehow Liam can watch and enjoy these before he would see them as hopelessly out-of-date.

A whole bunch of fun and a deal at under $30 for 26 episodes!

Seeing God From 20th Row, Center

Sometimes things just make sense. Believe it or not, Cream playing Madison Square Garden 37 years or so after calling it quits makes sense. Forget about any reviews you may have read stating that they have mellowed or other nonsense like that. This was - and is - the premier rock trio. Bass, drums, guitar. Bingo. And it most definitely is the best showcase for the man that I truly feel is the face of rock guitar. And I was not going to miss this chance to see this reunion.

The drummer in my band, Tom Ryan, hates Cream. He argues that the "blues rock" genre that they created spawned some incredibly lame bands and by doing so tainted the sanctuary of the blues. Well the truth of the matter is that almost all modern blues bands suck. It is incredibly difficult to play the blues, not in the fact that the form is difficult to play but rather that to actually "play" the blues requires something that goes beyond the ability to play an instrument. It requires a complete understanding of the human condition required to actually have the blues. Don't confuse this with "having the right to sing the blues" as the song goes. We all experience tragedy in our lifetimes, some much more than others. While this may give you the right to "sing the blues" (ie, whine), it doesn't give you the ability to play the blues. That ability only belongs to the rare individual who can translate the feeling of that pain - whether it be drowning in it, rejoicing in it or rejecting it - into his playing. It doesn't matter if the pain is even his. The blues is story telling on a grand scale. Some people can do a great job of faking this, and sometimes with the best intentions. They study the masters and play authentically on their prized vintage instruments. They dress the part and even try to live the way they think a bluesman should live. They talk blues talk. They are the musical equivalent to reduced fat foods. It just ain't the real thing, no matter how much you convince yourself that you can't taste the difference. Eric Clapton is the real thing. He may not bring it every night, but when he does there is just nobody better.

I have friends who don't agree with this and I understand. I don't mean to make a claim that Clapton is the best guitarist. I have stood in wonder at others - watching Jeff Beck seemingly bend time and space along with his strings, being lured into a Nashville club by the sound of Johnny Hiland and sitting transfixed for hours, being blown away by Chris Spedding channeling Scotty Moore and too many more to count. I liken it to Derek Jeter. No, he's not the greatest shortstop of all time. Yes, he's the first guy I would pick for my team.

A few songs into the show on Tuesday the band seemed to be sputtering a bit through "Spoonful." Then Eric's solo came around and as he dug into it, you could feel the audience being carried along. At the end of that solo, I felt that I had just seen perhaps the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed in over 35 years of attending concerts. Then they played "Stormy Monday." Now, I don't remember "Stormy Monday" being a Cream song. Perhaps they played somewhere back when. But it certainly is a blues song and I know that I have never heard Clapton sing or play anything as good as the version they played that night.

There were plenty of other highlights and not all belonged to EC. Jack Bruce sounded amazing. His playing is still fluid and lyrical and his voice was strong. I have always felt that the Bruce and Clapton made one of the great harmony duos. I wish they had played "Dance The Night Away" which showcases this, but it didn't make the cut.

Somehow "Pressed Rat And Warthog" did.

Ginger Baker sounded great. His solo in "Toad" was a blast! I can't remember the last time I sat through a drum solo - and I don't really look forward to the next one - but he certainly can play, mostly working the toms on the kit, always swinging, and bringing on occasional blasts of fury to much huzzah from the crowd.

Ahh, the crowd. Let me tell you, it was three nights of serious regression therapy at MSG! The mostly male, mostly 50ish audience treated the band with well deserved respect. Most of the guys in attendance had that "I can't believe I'm out on a Tuesday night and drinking a beer!" look in their eyes. There was much marijuana in the air, as decade-old joints that were being saved for special reasons were broken out in record numbers. Then there were the many old guys sporting long gray pony tails. Who are these guys? Where do they go during the day? They can't all be working in record stores or comic book shops. I have heard that Jack Bruce is in failing health and this all may have come about because of his troubles. Then again, there were all those "Ginger Baker is dead" rumors. Whatever the reason, I'm glad it happened, I'm glad I spent a stupid amount of money on the seat - and yes it was worth it.

Yet Another Thing I Never Thought I'd See

When I heard that Cream was reforming to play a few dates at the RAH back in May, I crossed my fingers and hoped that they would bring the tour stateside. My wife encouraged me to fly to London to see the show as a special 50th birthday present (sweet gal, eh?) but by the time I started to make arrangements tickets were sold out and going for stupid amounts of money on eBay.

But as luck has it, I won't have to fly anywhere to see them as they announced that they will be playing three nights at MSG in October. Hopefully I will get tickets and it will certainly round out my year, concert-wise. Although the baby has limited our nights out, I still managed to see almost all of my big faves this year - Springsteen, Dylan and Brian Wilson with cheap seats to the McCartney show in hand.

How cool will it be to see Cream? I know that the reviews from London were just alright - but like the critics say "add a star if you're a fan." This is music that certainly took me places - and never getting a chance to see them "back in the day" it will be like plugging in a missing piece of my teenage years. I remember watching Cream's farewell concert at my friend Iain's house - oddly enough it was broadcast on local TV - and thinking "why are they ending this?" I didn't realize at the time that these bands didn't exist sole for my existence and as years went by and I gained more knowledge of their situation its a wonder they lasted as long as they did. All good things must come to and end - and if Cream didn't break up we would have never had such wonders as Ginger Baker's Airforce!

I did get to see Eric Clapton many times over the years. Sometimes he was amazing, sometimes not. A few years back I saw Jack Bruce as a member of Ringo's All Starr Band and he was the highlight of the show. He performed "Sunshine Of Your Love" and "White Room" (with Todd Rundgren having a blast on guitar) and I remember thinking how great it was to hear these songs being played.

I wonder if I should get a pair of bell bottoms for the show?

Louisiana

I really, really love Louisiana. Maybe because every single moment I have ever spent there has been wonderful. I have visited many times, with many friends and lovers. I have never been to Mardi Gras and only went to Jazzfest once. I prefer to visit when the city is not so crowded and it's easier to get a table at my favorite restaurants - a list that keeps growing and growing.

I do admit that a great deal of my time there is spent under various influences but New Orleans alters my state of mind way before that first bloody mary. Each state in this country may be different, but Lousiana is way different. If you've been there and you are a living, breathing, feeling person then you have felt the spirit that seems to rise from the ground in that place. I can only hope that all that spirit finds it's way back when the sun truly begins to rise again on the Gulf Coast.

My thoughts this week were about some of the people that made my time there memorable. There was the cab driver who picked us up from Frankie & Johnny's and on the way back gave us an improtu tour of the neighborhood, far more enjoyable than any of the official tours. Another bus driver - this time Lizz's cousin Christy flagged down one of those small luxury buses and asked the driver to take us from the Quarter to the JazzFest fairgrounds - and he did, singing for us all the way. I also thought about the gold toothed counter woman at Mother's who couldn't quite believe that I was going to eat a fried oyster po' boy AND a "Debris" po' boy (which is a po' boy made from the drippings off the roast beef cooked there at the restaurant - think of the most amazing pot roast and gravy hero in the universe and you might be doing this justice). Hey, it was my last day in town and they just don't play this kind of jazz back home.

If there ever was any doubt, Louisiana now owns the blues. Do what you can and learn what you can. The wake from the waves of this storm are going to be felt for a long time.

The Mosquitos: Part 1: Leading Up To It

I met Iain Morrison when I was about 14 or 15, possibly even younger. He was friends with a guy who lived on my block and we hit it off big time becoming best friends for next 15 years or so. We shared a common love for music, especially all things coming out of England. Iain, who is from Scotland, had an incredible record collection with tons of imports that blew my mind. We would spend hours listening to records, going to concerts and talking about music. Thinking back on it now, its pretty wild that my parents would let me hop on a train to head into New York City to go to the Fillmore East where would catch a show and then head down to the village to go record shopping. Iain was a few years older than me, so maybe my folks felt good about that and it certainly was a different time. We were committed to live music and together we saw hundreds of shows in the 1970s.

Iain and I listened to a lot of different music back then. We were heavy into the British blues scene - Johh Mayall, The Groundhogs, Savoy Brown, Fleetwood Mac and the like. We listened to the source as well - getting into Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Howlin' Wolf and guitar heros like BB King and Freddie King. We also dug a lot of the early prog bands including Genesis, Jethro Tull and Yes, as well as lesser known bands like Man, Gentle Giant and Can. We listened to the British folk bands such as Fairport Convention and the Strawbs. We dug some of the American groups as well - Little Feat and the Allman Brothers. We also began a lifelong love affair with reggae, basically starting with the soundtrack to "The Harder They Come." So many different types of music landed on our turntables back then. It was a very exciting time.

But when you got to the core of it, the music closest to our hearts was that of the original big bang of pop music - the British invasion of the early 60s. The Who and The Kinks were our big two right through the seventies and into the eighties. We loved the Beatles and Stones, of course, but to us the Searchers, The Hollies and Gerry and The Pacemakers stood on equal ground. I know for me, and probably for Iain as well, this was the music that defined us - at least the music that was the soundtrack to the formative years of our lives.

I didn't come from a musical family, not in the sense that my parents or siblings played an instrument. My brothers were almost ten years older than me and since they grew up as teenagers in the late 1950s/early 1960s, music certainly played a part in their lives as well. They didn't have a huge record collection, but there were plenty of 45s in the house and a few LPs, mostly pre-invaision teen idol stuff - Frankie Avalon, Four Freshmen and, of course, Elvis. I took up trumpet as a kid in grade school and began to get an understanding of music, but it wasn't until that fateful Sunday evening - February 9th, 1964 - that everything became clear to me.

I was nine years old in 1964. I loved listening to the radio, everything about it seemed almost magical. This music that came out of the air, the DJs with their crazy names - Mad Daddy, Cousin Brucie - signature catch phrases, swamped in reverb and the constant changes brought along by the weekly top ten. I would lie in bed on Tuesday nights, under the covers with the radio and a flashlight, diligently copying down the weekly top ten in my black and white notebook. The music was exciting at times - story songs like "Running Bear" and "Big Bad John," a Jimmy Dean song about JFK PT boat experience, were among my favorites - but it was apparent that things were changing. The DJs were getting excited about something called "The Beatles." It was obvious that this was a big deal - but I was confused about exactly what the deal was all about. They talked about "Beatle Wigs" and shouted "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" and my eight year old brain couldn't quite process all this information so I did what eight year olds do - I asked my mother what all this Beatle stuff was about.

She said, "You'll understand this Sunday. They are going to be on the Ed Sullivan Show."

I loved Ed Sullivan. Sunday nights were all about Walt Disney and Ed Sullivan. The whole family usually was in front of the TV set for the Sullivan show. You would see it all - music, theater, acrobats, puppets (I loved Topo Gigio!), comics, impressionists - it all came together on that show. But outside of Elvis - we had never seen anything like what we were about to see.

My story is one that you have probably heard many, many times before. All I can tell you is that is 100 percent true.

I remember sitting on the floor in front of the television when they came on, opening the show. By the time they took their first bow at the end of "All My Loving" my life had changed forever. I knew what I was going to do, amazing, since I didn't even know you could do something like this. I wanted - no, I needed a guitar. Right now. And I needed more Beatles - and thanks to the radio and good old fashioned supply and demand - I got it. The radio began pumping out a seemingly non-stop parade of British pop, all of which I absorbed like a sponge and retain a loving respect for to this very day.

I didn't get that guitar right away, but that didn't stop me from assembling a "group" that would mime to Beatle songs in the playground during recess at school. Eventually my folks gave in and bought me my first guitar, which was actually a pretty decent acoustic guitar made in Italy. We were inseparable. I didn't want to do anything except play that guitar. I was about 14 now and it was 1969 so the music scene had changed quite a bit. In retrospect the trip from "Meet The Beatles" to "Let It Be" happened in the blink of eye. I had many other influences now, including the new crop of guitar heros like Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton. Soon I began to make noise about getting an ELECTRIC guitar and as soon as I had my hands on that, there was only one thing to do - start a band.

I had met Iain by now, and became the lead singer in our first group. We played some of the blues stuff that we listening to like Fleetwood Mac's "Black Magic Woman" and lots of riff-based songs like the Kink's "You're Looking Fine." We played at a few "battle of the bands" type of events and at the local teen center. We had a few different names - Halfnelson and Gun Hill Road - which were both used later on by recording groups. It was great fun.

Years later, during the punk explosion of the seventies, a group of friends decided that we would form a punk band. Since I played guitar, I would be the guitar player. Jon Arm, who had some marching band experience, would play drums. A college friend of Jon's, Eammon Bowles, was going to be the lead singer so Iain decided to pick up the bass, completing band and thus the Fabians were born. Iain became quite a capable bassist in almost no time and Eammon turned out to be a good songwriter. We played CBGBs and Max's and became a tight little outfit, especially after Jon left and was replaced on drums by Roger Murdock. Eammon and Roger are still playing together in the critically acclaimed NYC band The Martinets, which also includes Dave Rick (ex-Bongwater) and Daniel Rey (who produced the Ramones and Joey Ramone's solo effort).

The Fabians carried on for a while and we had an early recording session which was never released. One of our show's at Max's was recorded, with Roger on drums, and it's quite a spunky performance. I can't remember what exactly brought the Fabians to an end, but this is where the Mosquito story begins.

Next: The Buzz Begins!

The Mosquitos

In the past week, a part of my past came up randomly a couple of times. My uncle Francis is in the hospital and I stopped by for a visit. Francis - we call him Chechi - is a very social guy and had not only made friends with the fellow in the next bed, but seemed to know his entire family on a first-name basis. Apparently one of his room mate's sons was a musician and Uncle Chechi took it upon himself to mention that I was a ex-member of The Mosquitos. Turns out this guy was a fan from way back and told me how he used to sneak into Sparks to watch us play. He told his dad that, "The Mosquitos were one of the biggest bands from Long Island" and that "back in the 80's it was all about The Mosquitos and Zebra." Well, I don't know about that, but it certainly impressed my wife.



Then a few days later I get an email from Bill Jones asking about including The Mosquitos on a video compilation. Bill and I exchange emails now and then, and he inspired me to put together a CD of some Mosquito material which was to be part of a "retrospective" - a project that seems always to be on my to-do list.



It is pretty nice to know that people actually cared - and still care - about this little part of my life. It was obvious back then, but I never really fully understood how much that band meant to some people until I had conversations with them years later. Sometimes it wasn't so much about the music but rather a special time in their lives and in other cases it is all about the music. Either way it makes me feel good to be a part of it. Blair Buscareno, who wrote some especially touching articles on the band and is now playing in bands of his own - The Miscreants and The Coal Gems, actually claims that The Mosquitos "changed his life." I believe it's said that if you can make a positive difference in one child's life then you have accomplished a miracle, making me one step closer to sainthood. Thanks, Blair!



I'm sure you have heard the phrase "there are three sides to every story - his, hers and the truth." When you are in a band, you are in a relationship with multiple partners, so you can expand that out to as many stories as there are band members, ex-band members, wives, ex-wifes, friends and lovers. it gets a bit cloudy at times to be sure. But since there seem to be a few people who might be interested in reading one of those stories, I thought that I would dedicate some blog time to The Mosquitos, starting at the beginning. Tell your friends and keep those cards and letters coming.

God Only Knows

Saturday's show at Jones Beach was fantastic - I have been lucky to catch almost all of Brian's NY area shows since he began touring again and this might have been the best one yet. I had tickets for SMiLE at Carnegie Hall, but unfortunately a death in the family changed my plans. So I was pretty happy when I found out that he would be bringing the tour back this summer and what better place than Jones Beach to see it. It was by no means a sold-out show, but there were a lot of fans there and it shoudn't reflect badly on Brian. It is a great place to see a show and I would rather sit in a half-full Jones Beach Theater than many other places. I was towards the back of the orchestra and was surrounded by what seemed to be some true fans. The sound was great considering how strong the breeze was.

The band seemed really pumped up - I don't know if it is just the joy that this music brings or if they were experiencing some sort of special night, but there was a lot of energy on stage. It almost had an end-of-the-tour vibe. Anyway - it was a great, great night. The opening set included some of my absolute favorite songs - When I Grow Up To Be A Man, Breakaway, Marcella, Add Some Music - and maybe the best ever version of God Only Knows. How great was it to hear Little St. Nick! I can't wait for the Christmas record Of course SMiLE is incredible. It has taken life as a performance piece that could be the centerpiece of Brian's show for years. Wonderful really stood out for me. For most of the performance, I just sat back with my eyes closed and let that incredible wave of sound wash over me, mixed with the ocean breezes. I can only hope that someday my son - who just turned one - will experience something like this.

The band - that incredible, amazing, powerful group of musicians who back him everynight with an endless supply of talent, respect and love - they are so very special and I am always blown away. These are some confusing times, to be sure. But on Saturday night the message was clear and simple ... love and mercy is what we need - and what was delivered. Thanks Brian.