The Art Of Touring 9: David Crosby called. He wants his liver back….
Five things to remember when you drink with a British rock band:
1. Do not try to keep up with them.
2. Do not promise to do a shot every time someone mentions Manchester United.
3. There is no obligation to replace an empty pitcher with 3 full ones.
4. Being drunk is not an excuse to suddenly acquire a bad British accent.
5. Leave before the bill comes.
…and the bonus tip to remember:
BONUS TIP: Don’t go back to the hotel and keep drinking.
By the time our newly acquired entourage left the Chelsea, it was 9:00 am. I was asleep, (or at least passed out), by 9:01.
There was no recollection of the 11:00 wake up call our manager had promised the day before. So, when appointed time rolled around, and the incessant pounding on the door began, I did what any red-blooded, drunk, rock and roll guitar player would do. I threw a shoe at the door, rolled over, and promptly fell off my bed. No problem, floor was comfortable. I’m pretty sure Roachy, (yes, I named the cockroach), dragged a pillow over and put it under my head, but don’t quote me.
The knocking continues, joined now by the fabled chant, Bob! Randy! Bob! Randy!”
I throw my remaining shoe.
The knocking and chanting are now joined by classic doorknob jiggling and lower door kicking.
Randy contributes a shoe and a hearty, albeit, slurred, “Go away!”
The hubbub stops, and there is sweet, merciful, silence.
Then, the phone rings…and rings…and rings…and keeps ringing.
I open one eye. When the blinding pain subsides, I spot the phone cord, give it a yank, and, with the coordination and grace of a spastic 2 year old, manage to get the receiver under my ear. “Whazuh?”
It’s John.
“Can you see the door?”, he says quietly into the phone.
I re-open my eye. As the searing pain recedes for the second time, I answer him in the affirmative.
“Good”, he says, “I pushed the bass and guitar strings under the door. Change your strings and be ready for sound check at 3 o’ clock. If you do not open the door at that time…”, I rolled off the phone and went back to sleep.
The Bitter End: A bit of history…
Of all the wonderful venues I have been privileged to play over the years, The Bitter End is one of the most legendary.
Whereas a lot of the places we played were in their formative years, the Bitter End was already a legend by the time we hit the small, but warm and intimate stage.
The club was originally opened in 1961 by a guy from the Bronx, named  Fred Weintraub, who went on to create, produce, direct, and write a lot of TV shows and motion pictures, including the Dukes of Hazard TV series, and Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon.
As the owner of the Bitter End, he introduced the world to Peter, Paul and Mary, Lenny Bruce, (with whom he was arrested on obscenity charges), Randy Newman, The Isley Brothers, George Carlin, Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor, Billy Joel, Phil Ochs, Harry Chapin, Neil Diamond…the list goes on and on.
In 1968, Paul Colby took over as manager and booking agent and by 1974 became the owner. It was Paul that brought in the rock acts, and turned the club into one of the most important rock venues in New York. It was Paul that would become our friend, and hire us, along with the Grateful Dead, to open his Bitter End West in 1970.
The club was designated a landmark by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission on July 23, 1992, but in 1969, it was just another place for us to play, another chance to do what we loved.
This is a Banana Daiquiri…it is not to be trusted.
When you stop to think about it, playing a new place is like a first date. You want everything to go smoothly, you want to make a good impression, and you want to make sure everyone involved has a good time. When your date is as well known and loved as The Bitter End, you really want to do well, but there is a certain amount of pressure added when you are in such illustrious territory, pressure that was magnified by having to play on rented equipment to a hip and knowledgeable audience in the greatest city in the world.
Fortunately, none of that crossed our minds.
Not wanting to find out what John was going to do if we didn’t show up on time ready to go, Randy and I had managed to rejoin the living around 2 in the afternoon, changed our strings, showered, shaved, and still found time to have a couple of Bloody Mary’s in the bar off the lobby at the Chelsea. Like they say, a little ‘hair of the dog’, can ease the pain of a night, (and morning), filled with stupid decisions and overindulgence. It seemed to work, because by the time we got out of the brand new Vista Cruiser on Bleecker Street, I, for one, felt damn near human.
True to form, Manny’s was right on time and our gear was delivered, set up, and ready to go when we walked in the door. Bruce and Dennis were standing proudly off to the side of the stage, chatting with their new friends from Manny’s. I wondered, briefly, if Roadies have a secret handshake.
There was a guy already on the stage. He squinted under the lights and spoke into the mic. “I’ll be done in a minute fellas, just one more tune.”, and launched into what could only be described as one of the most conversational songs I’ve ever heard, the guitar full and rich, and a voice as smooth as butter. When he finished, we asked him to play another, and he did. That is how we met Mickey Newbury. If you are not familiar with this guy’s music, you owe it to yourself to seek it out…and if you don’t believe me, ask Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, and all the other writers he inspired over the years. One of the greats.
Mickey Newbury
After much fiddling around with the rented gear, we managed to get a full hour in, and by the time we were finished, the sound was up to snuff, and the band was sounding tight and confident. DeCoq, especially, was so happy to be playing he was literally burning up the neck of his guitar. To his great credit, Jim knew the real secret of performance. Knowing when not to play is just as important as knowing what to play.
It was going to be a great night.
We had just enough time to grab a bite to eat, go back to the hotel and change, and make it back to the club in time to see Mickey’s set.
Just as we were leaving, Paul Colby introduced himself, and proffered a tray of what looked like milkshakes in take-out plastic, (actually, wax covered paper, the plastic equivalent didn’t exist back then), beer cups. He scooped one of them up off the tray, and turned it upside down. The contents remained in the cup.
“We freeze these the night before, they’re the house specialty”, he said, passing them out. “This is a frozen banana daiquiri.”
He showed us how to jab the accompanying straw in and out of the drink to loosen it up, and then stir it before attempting to get the goods to go through the straw.
Surely, when God takes the kids to the beach in Heaven, he takes along a cooler full of these.
I would return to the Bitter End almost every night I was in New York to hear some great music, and have a couple of these wonderful cocktails. One word of advice, though: When I was introducing friends to the drink one night, I turned mine upside down like Paul did the first time I ever had one. Unlike Paul’s, mine came out of the cup and landed in my lap.
Fucker was cold…
Oh yeah! The gig…
The Bitter End was packed when we got back. People from Elektra’s New York office, a cluster of rock critics and DJ’s, like Vince Scelsa and Toby Mamis, scenesters like pre-fame Lenny Kaye, label-mates like Harry Chapin and David Peel and the Lower East Side, and the rest were people from NYC and Jersey that just plain loved music.
Mickey’s set was inspiring, and we went onstage pumped and determined to prove we were worthy of the venue, and the audience. After all that had happened in the last few days, this was the reason we were here. This was the moment that made all the bullshit worthwhile. This is what we do.
We came to play!
Here’s the review from Cashbox Magazine…
Continued next Wednesday…
That’s enough for now. Email me at segarini@fyimusic.ca with your comments, complaints, and thoughts…and remember…don’t believe a word I say.
Bob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, and The Segarini Band and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now provides content for radiothatdoesntsuck.com with RadioZombie, The Iceage, and PsychShack. Along with the love of his life, Jade (Pie) Dunlop, (who hosts and writes “I’ve Heard That Song Before” on RTDS), continues to write, make music, and record.
