In The Wilderness ~ my start with the band before the band

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I'm not sure how I got the call to play drums in an established R&B band, but I was ecstatic that I did. Having worked road-crew for dad's band, ShagTime, for over a year with a growing itch to be on-stage instead of off, this new opportunity to actually play live drums was incredibly inticing. I was to replace the out-going drummer and little did I know, that this would be some of the sternest and most grueling on-stage live schooling that I would ever go through. As with the call, I'm forever thankful I went through it.

The Sensations, was an interracial bunch of older guys (hah, younger than me right now!) with the exception of future Kicks! co-founder & keyboardist, Vic, who was all of 19 or 20 years or so at the time. The band's motif was pure R&B and almost all of these players were long-time perfectionists of the 'genre'. What I mean by that is that at this time--mid '80's--R&B was primarily standards covered by cover bands, because this is the music of our cultural south. Meaning, again, that this is the type of music preferred (and the more authentic the better) at southern 'occasions'. These players were authentic, they had most certainly 'been there and done that' decades before the term R&B was replaced by Hip-Hop. Since Victor was a virtuoso on the keys, he didn't have a problem with the other guys, but to me--the guy who called himself a drummer, but hated to practice--was a whole 'nother story. I am eternally thankful that I lasted about two years with this band before I started one on my own after an internal split in the band. During the split, I stayed with the leader, Mo, because he hired me, while the other guys stuck with a club-owner who wanted to be a drummer too. The new Sensations was simply no match in duplicating the old group's on-stage heroics, choreography and authentic R&B sound. I did manage to internalize the chemistry that led to the original band's success, of which Mo was a huge part--he taught me how to run a band on-stage and off--and with that template of which I was now very familiar gave me a huge amount of confidence in starting my own group with some of my own 'green' friends. No more schooling for me (I thought). As a side note--in this business there are inevitable times when you have to retool your show and your performers--and I was years later to hire (they accepted!) most all of the original members of the old group that gave me my first call to play drums. And though there is an incredible amount of history with my new group yet to be formed, before this point, I have to tell you that most of these wonderful players are now my dear friends and partners in my current group--one that I would never think of retooling--that continues to this day. It seems that the two-year scene and show we had while I was being schooled was simply a really inspired show that still thrives--in a big way--to this day. As I tell anyone that asks if I still play in that band, I always tell them that I'm qualified to work at McDonald's otherwise. To tell you the honest truth, I'm probably not qualified for that either. I'll keep playing these drums, thanks to Mo and the Sensations and to Dad & ShagTime.

In The Wilderness: The Mighty Band before the Mighty Band

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Once the show began in Dad's band, I was set-up with my lighting console beside the amazing Don' who was running, of course, the entire sound for the guys on-stage. This was fun for a couple of weeks, but then there's only so much you can do with lights and beach music. Eventually, I got to where I was just aching to be on-stage with the boys--or at least with my own band--just an unformed bit of mental plasma--for now.

I did learn alot from the dadster, especially in how you can successfully and with amazing results, 'read' a crowd and authoritatively 'guide' an entire four-portion of any given evening to your and your client's ultimate satisfaction. One thing Dad did to perfection and something I've never really mastered was the art of 'killing' them (or just winning them over, however your choice of vernacular) on the first song or 'chunk' of songs. Dad had a seven-piece act with a powerful three-part horn section, so obviously he always chose an 'opener' that showcased the entire composition of the band. Inevitably, the guys would have the entire audience eating out of their hand after the first twenty-minutes of the show and usually even before then.

After the opener, it was just a matter of Dad calling the songs that gradually had everyone letting their hair down and achieving the utmost desired result that wouldn't come until the following normal 'real world' business day. To put it plainly, Dad demanded, "I want that phone ringing off the hook on Monday morning." As bored as I continued to get running lights and setting up and tearing down gear, I learned the rules of the game. That is, you can do this business of show-business in many different fashions. You can kind of go over, go over pretty good or . . . you can have the phone ringing off the hook on Monday morning with future clients demanding to know how they can engage that fabulous band they heard this past weekend. As my current band-mate and on-stage brother for over 20 years, Esaw, would say so matter-of-factly, "That's the way IT works, pal."

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In The Wilderness: origin of the band ~ Road Crew: Ed, Don & I

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Our 'performance to performance' routine consisted of us arriving somewhere like the Greensboro Country Club in North Carolina for a 'private party', unloading the equipment off the truck and down the ramp; big black road box after big black road box. Once in the ballroom, we would set each road box (on wheels of course) end after end thus intimidating anyone who would question our authority. Don taught me this based on his countless road crew experience with the biggest bands in our southeastern market along with his experience with the national acts like Bob Segar and especially Grand Funk Railroad (Bob would actually help his road crew load-in to the arena just for the hell-uv-it). I enjoyed this new found authority and while immersed in it, we quietly opened the large wooden boxes and set-up everything but the stage, although we did have a quite nifty drum riser for the drummer, my dad.

After setting up everything we would sound check the PA which as most of you know has been immortalized in the often repeated, "Check, mic check 1, 2, 3. Mic check 1, 2 3." We would sometimes say "4" but never go any higher than that. After the mic check, I would check Dad's drums with the most important being the bass or 'kick' drum. You would kick the foot pedal until the amazing Don' had it equalized and coming out through the front speakers with a thunderous bottom end sound, "Boom . . . Boom . . . Boom". If the staff still questioned out authority, they didn't now as Don would 'bump' the volume of the bass drum way louder than he ever anticipated using it during the show. After all this audible checking, we would then aim all the lights with their multi-colored gels on two large metal stands on either side of the stage. If we had room, we would set up a back-line lighting truss which we'll refer to later. There was, however, a story from one of the former members of the band--before this new incarnation--where the lovable trumpet player accidentally tripped over one of the bulky light stands on the front line sending it and the lights crashing on top of an elaborately prepared banquet table. Although not a witness to this incident, I have it pretty fixed in mind in just how it happened. It is still funny.

Eventually, we would be all ready for the musicians to come on stage and plug into the amps--already provided and set-up for the little heifers--but being we were almost always probably three to four hours completely set-up before show time, we would first ask where the nearest Quincys or equivalent was so we could let our hair down with an all-encompassing buffet meal and bottomless coffee . . . listening to the inevitable stories from Ed and Don. One of the rare stories that I was in concerned just such an episode. After one of our many set-ups, we arrived at one Quincys in downtown Winston-Salem during rush hour and upon exiting the truck, we noticed that one of the huge, steel back-line lighting trusses happened to still be on top of the truck. It had every chance to impale anyone--front or back of us--on the lengthy trip through rush-hour traffic on the way to our Quincys. You know, somebody had to have been watching out for us and I think they still do. Let's hit that buffet ya'll.

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In The Wilderness: origin of the band ~ Road Crew: the amazing don'

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"On the road again . . . ." Oh, the joy to be doing something productive with no outer goals in mind other than the unloading of a truck filled with gear and setting up of a production that would make Vegas smile. All the guys in Dad's band had to do was walk on stage pick up their drum sticks--if you're my dad---or plug in their instruments. Once we had thirteen 'one-nighters' in a row--that means you set it all up that day and take it all down after the show that night. It got to be that we just about walked in our sleep like some 'road zombie' to the truck when it came to pick us up early each day.

The road crew consisted of myself, Ed (Jeffthro's dad) and the amazing Don Casay. Within the first couple weeks of touring, I had become incredibly enamored with the amazing Don'. He had stories that would simply mesmerize the listener, whether he was telling us of the times spent with Rod Stewart, Grand Funk Railroad and The King of Bands, The Embers or of the time he was shot in heroic fashion in Vietnam. Hey, whether true or not, these were some damn good stories, but what gave the amazing Don' such credibility was not only the absolutely flawless mix he performed with the band (and in typical Don Casay fashion--draping the soundboard in an American Flag while we were all on break), but also 'amazing' incidences where we actually saw the amazing Don' in action.

For instance, one day we happened to be in a mall parking lot somewhere in North Carolina, when all three of us--myself, Ed, and Don'--heard someone outside say, kind of calmly actually, "Can I have some help over here?" We looked over at the mall sidewalk to see two men tussling with a new television set beside them. Ed and I simply froze, unable to speak, much less deciding on any course of action we should take with the situation. Before we had a chance to even exhale, the amazing Don' hopped out the truck, ran over to the two men and then expertly helped the 'correct' security guard subdue the man for the police. This is the amazing Don' and he would prove his skills to us in confronting those last-minute unknowns many more times before he would eventually take another path, but believe me, we will get to those stories before the amazing Don' leaves us.

In The Wilderness: origin of the band ~ Prep-Time

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I will never forget--so soon after what felt like a dramatic fall from reality--watching my dad and his cohorts assemble an entirely new band in just two weeks. They already had dates on the books and a regional song burning up the 'regional' charts and yet the new band would have only three of the original members; my dad, Jeffthro's dad and the lead singer, Paul.

They rented out an old community recreation room and began in earnest. The 'beach music'--our local musical idiom--sounded great with their powerful horn section, but the 'dance' songs of Morris Day & The Time were really almost impossible for them to cover (that was to prove very enlightening to watch). At the very same time that the new band was assembling their repertoire, I was watching and assisting Don Casay, the chief-soundman, assemble all the 'brand new' sound & lighting gear strewn all over the room. Something very new was in the air and it was extremely intoxicating to be immersed in this 'new' reality.

After rehearsals, two of the younger members of the new group, Terry & 'Zoid, stayed with us at the house and that is where I had my first real taste of the 'natural' stuff that is green. After partaking in my old bedroom--with the guys showing me the techinical expertise to manage such a matter--where they were residing and then retiring to the couch downstairs, I remember watching my upraised hand very diligently and really not liking this loss of mental control at all. I, however, was to overcome that stumbling block in no time at all and I, as well as practically the entire band--though not Don Casay--would treat that 'loss of mental control' as a blessing and thanksgiving whenever it should occur. Shall we take this show to the road? We shall.

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In The Wilderness ~ origin of the band: Fall Semester

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To fully explain the origin of 'the band', we have to go into a little musical history that most of the chosen seven are probably not even aware of. And before we get into that history, we have to go even further back to a very brief tenure at the University of South Carolina in 1984.

I like so many other clueless freshman arrived wide-eyed and terrifed on the Gamecock campus with a chosen goal to pursue enlightenment in Business Adminstration. Yeah, right. God help those who still pick this degree, let alone achieve it. I started out pretty good, but somewhere along the way--and not too along the way--I got tripped up in self-paced astronomy. With this stumbling block firmly established within the first two months, I proceeded to do something that I would do several times later at many other schools of higher education: I threw the beautiful baby out with the bathwater. Not able to redeem myself in that subject of stars and planets; I stopped going to 'all' my classes and kept my mind busy--and off the future--while walking around the undiscovered city of my birth and playing basketball in the gym. Christmas break was just around the corner, and I simply had to put the thought out of my mind that I had thrown my future away--maybe we could try the army--and the family would soon know that that four-digit check for this semester had not been redeemed in studies and that there would most definitely not be a 'spring' semester for this young bloke.

I told the folks after a pre-Christmas dinner not knowing in the slightest what would be next. Turns out, dad was in the dramatic process of assembling a new and better band and a new and better road-crew and it wasn't more than a couple of minutes later that I knew I was going on the road to throw around some PA and lighting equiptment. I hadn't expected this at all and little did I know the actual road it would really lead me down--or up.

Selections on God, Reality, Music & Pictures from Jean Baudrillard

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The eclipse of God left us up against reality.

Where will the eclipse of reality leave us?

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And yet there are no proofs of this reality's existence -- and there never will be -- any more than the are proofs of the existence of God. It is, like God, a matter of faith.

And when you begin to believe in it, this is because it is already disappearing.

It is when one is no longer sure of the existence of God, or when one has lost the naive faith in a self-evident reality, that it becomes absolutely necessary to believe it it.

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Integral Reality is also to be found in integral music: the sort you find in quadrophonic spaces or can 'compose' on a computer. The music in which sounds have been clarified and expurgated and which, shorn of all noise and static, is, so to speak, restored to its technical perfection. The sounds of such music are no longer the play of a form, but the actualization of a programme. It is a music reduced to a pure wavelength, the final reception of which, the tangible effect on the listener, is exactly programmed too, as in a closed circuit. It is, in a sense, a virtual music, flawless and without imagination, merging into its own model, and even the enjoyment of it is virtual enjoyment. Is this still music? The question must be open to doubt, since they have actually come up with the idea of reintroducing noise into it to make it more 'musical'.

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The computer-generated image is like this too, a digital image which is entirely fabricated, has no real referent and from which, by contrast with analogue images, the negative itself has disappeared -- not just the film negative, but the negative moment lies at the heart of the image, that absence that causes the image to resonate. The technical fine-tuning here is perfect. There is no room for fuzziness, tremor or chance. Is this still an image?

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JEAN BAUDRILLARD, (1929 - 2007)