More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled
Label: Indisc - 2100896,Liquid - 2100896 • Format: CD Album • Country: Belgium • Genre: Rock • Style: Alternative Rock, Psychedelic Rock
The monstrous amount of text below has been arranged More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled chronological order, and I recommend it be read in that fashion to enjoy the full, unfettered literary experience. But, if you must, you can skip ahead by using the page-marker links below. Go ahead. Be like that. Berklee College Of Music was a very, very intense place to be when I was there, from the Fall of to the Spring of I'm sure it still is.
Imagine thousands of aspiring musicians from not just all over the country, but all over the world, converging on a few buildings in the Back Bay area of Boston, doing whatever they can to get better and get noticed while doing so. Those who don't really want a career in professional music quickly discover that it's not a place for them.
Those who stayed got divided Feasting On The Blood Of The Insane - Six Feet Under - Maximum Violence two camps: the players who were already so good that they stood out as instant celebrities.
I was firmly in the latter group. Eventually I got noticed, for better or worse, because of the work I did on the projects listed on this page. Remember-the "rap sheet" is a project history. If you want a brief one-page synopsis of my journey through Berklee, this is not the place for you.
Instead, click hereand you'll be taken to the relevant section More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled a page called " why bass? If you're more curious, read on, and taste a slice of life from Berklee College Of Music in the early '90s.
There were two places to play and be seen at Berklee: either in a recital hall during the day, or in the cafeteria at night. Of course, in order to get people to come see you-unless you were one of the "star" players, which I certainly wasn't-you had to promote.
You needed a catchy name, a flashy sign, and you needed to hang those signs everywhere. Quaint, compared to the music business we now know and don't love, but simple.
Two kinds of players went to Berklee-those who played in shows organized by others, and those who organized. I was-surprise! It was by default, really; no one was asking me to play in their shows anyway. So More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled went ahead and organized my own, with the help of keyboardist Derek Phillips, and somehow a funk-based project we called "Cosmic Chicken" was born.
Featuring "The Southern Fried Horns," we'd be a nine-piece, booty-shakin' funk machine comprised primarily of white guys from the northeastern suburbs. I wanted our debut to be in the cafeteria as opposed to a recital hall because you could crank it up without fear of reprisal, but first you had to apply. If your demo tape was accepted, you got paired up with the leader of another show, and the two showleaders would organize the entire night.
Our tape was accepted. And in a lottery that changed my life, I was paired with a guy named Joe Reminder - Insted - What We Believewho was leading a show called "Shredfest.
Joe, three years older and two years ahead of me in curriculum, was already a name player at Berklee. I'd heard of him, but I'd never actually seen him play. In any event, it was quickly decided that Shredfest would headline, and Cosmic Chicken would open.
There was a moment in soundcheck when our drummer was in the bathroom, and Joe-who'd been coveting his Yamaha Recording Custom kit from the moment he laid eyes on it-instantly volunteered his services to the front-of-house engineer. The groove he started playing was unreal. I ran and grabbed my bass, plugged in, and we jammed for about a minute. Afterwards, we just looked at each other. Something special. The show itself was a decent success.
It put us on the map. Plus, we had good fluorescent posters. And a great name, one that I took with me. I figured it was better to get it out of the way as soon as possible. I badly wanted Joe Travers on drums for this show, but when I approached him with the invitation. My ego was understandably bruised, but I took our now-good name, made better posters, and got another drummer named Frank Lombardi, a popular, outgoing, extremely positive guy who'd just placed second in a local Best Drummer contest.
He would have won it if he hadn't gotten drunk before he got called back up for a "drum-off" with the eventual winner. I was also more careful about choosing songs that suited a large band when necessary, and my own playing when not. We arranged Led Zeppelin's "The Crunge" for horns. It was a Stillwell - Dirtbag better show than the first, both in performance and turnout.
We were the only act that played. It wasn't a large room, but we filled it to capacity with standing room only out the door. Most importantly, Joe Travers was in the audience. I had a feeling he wouldn't be next time. The ball was rolling, and the horn players were becoming a section with name recognition of their own.
Two of them-trumpeter Matt Bowman and Alto Sax player С Цветка На Цветок - Дмитрий Четвергов - Баллады Hudgins-had been with me from the beginning, and wanted to do a summer show of horn-focused music. We were marketing now, baby. Having no desire to return to the musical wasteland that was Westfield, New Jersey, I decided to stay enrolled at Berklee in the summer of Joe stuck around as well, and this time he said yes.
We also picked up another important piece of the puzzle-Joe's summer roommate, an eclectic, unpredictably brilliant guitarist named Jon Skibic. The band, including the full horn section and background singers, now numbered fourteen members. Summer at Berklee was a lot more mellow than the regular year, and it gave us a chance to rehearse under less strenuous conditions.
All of the songs were horn tunes, heavy on arrangement and light on chops, which I really enjoyed. It was in the cafeteria, and even though summer enrollment was far less than normal, we packed the place and it went nuts at the end.
More importantly, two things were happening to the band. One, there was a maturity slipping into the performances, borne of experience, bonding, and the stabilizing force of Joe Travers behind the drumkit. Second, we were getting silly on stage; somehow we segued Pink Floyd's "Young Lust" into the Bugs Bunny theme, followed immediately by a Fishbone "song" called "Asswhippin'" which consisted mainly of whip noises and screams.
When stuff like that happens, and it works-most of the crowd somehow got it-you More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled something special is in the air. Enough with the practice runs. This was going to be the big one. We had name recognition from the previous year, a huge, tight band, a night in the cafeteria reserved just for us, and Joe Travers on Houses & Homes - Field Guide - EP in the busy fall semester.
Promotionally, I pulled out all the stops. I had two posters made-the first was a teaser, the second a show announcement with twenty names listed as band members. The band was now bass, drums, keys, two guitars, six horns, five singers, percussion, harmonica, and a guest saxophonist and acoustic bassist. I was focused past the point of obsession. I hung over signs, led eight rehearsals not including horn and vocal sectionalswrote horn charts, woke up three hours before classes to reserve the best rehearsal rooms.
There were a couple of shows each semester that everyone seemed to go to. This was going to be one of them. Musically, the challenge was more severe than I'd anticipated. Lead singer Scott Branston got nodes on his vocal chords less than four weeks before the show, and I was panicked enough to consider canceling until brash freshman Robb Vallier came around and literally saved the whole thing. This same Robb Vallier would go on to live in L.
The rehearsals were chaotic. Berklee's practice rooms just weren't equipped to handle a seventeen-piece band, and tensions exploded more than once between vocalists who couldn't hear themselves, guitarists who wouldn't turn down, drummers who couldn't play any quieter.
The thirteen-song set list was ambitious, perhaps recklessly so. I'm not sure I can even describe the show, except to say that it was truly electric. There were at least people in the cafeteria that night, and more spilled out the side doors. Stuff happened on stage we didn't rehearse unheard of at Berkleelike Robb Vallier coming out wearing Elvis muttonchop sideburns and doing an impersonation I hadn't yet seen; Derek Phillips running out with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken during Scott Branston's improvised rap in Morris Day's "Tricky" "somebody get me a piece of chicken.
I'm not kidding-there was even a guy with long dreadlocks who Total Destruction Of Your Mind - Various - Really Heavy Soul out in front of the stage and started doing splits. For my part, I wore these big chicken-feet slippers, and at the very end of the show, I yanked them off, threw them to the ground More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled disgust, and did the Nestea plunge flat on my back as if I'd been shot dead.
I hadn't done anything spectacular playing-wise, but the band was incredible. It was the biggest show of the semester, and everyone knew that I'd More Trouble Every Day / Space Trouble Boogie - Ugly Papas - Untitled it together. The confirmation was double-sweet after the show, when a party we'd intended for band members and friends became an out-of-control kegger attended by girls I didn't even know were enrolled at Berklee, all of whom suddenly wanted to meet me.
In other words, the plan worked. Funny thing is, only in retrospect does it seem like a plan at all. When we were in the midst of it, it all felt like so much desperate flailing and chaos. Ah, youth. Freed of the burden of trying to gain notoriety, I put the funk concept and the large band aside, and did a show of classic and progressive rock tunes I'd always wanted to play. You can see the songs on the program-they're all over the map. It was really a collection of guilty pleasures more than anything else.
I had a good group of singers, especially Ian McGlynn, a freshman who stepped in and nailed a good Jon Anderson. Zeppelin's "Four Sticks" was graced by the presence of guest vocalist Holly Palmer, a sultry jazz-improv specialist who moaned and writhed her way through the tune so convincingly that she nearly brought Travers to orgasm on his drum throne.
The right sax player for "One More Red Nightmare", a guest appearance by Berklee rock-guitar faculty member Jon Finn, and the brand name of "Dead Chicken Productions" helped pack a happening Room 1A the large recital hall that March afternoon.
Its Alright, Ma (Im Only Bleeding) - Bob Dylan, The Band - Live In The Big Apple, Mesh - In This Place Forever, Feel So Free - Jimmy Edgar - Fabriclive 79, Eimai Aitos Choris Ftera - Zampetas And His Bouzoukia* - Zampetas And His Bouzoukia 5