Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    



David Gans solo acoustic performances in MA, NY and PA:

Saturday, May 13, 8:00pm: opening for Merl Saunders,Tom Constanten, Slipknot!
et al. at The Palladium, 261 Main Street, Worcester MA.  508-797-9696

Sunday, May 14, 6:00pm: The Grateful Bread, 407 Main Street, Stoneham MA.
781-279-9940

Tuesday, May 16, 9:00pm: Harpers Ferry, 158 Brighton Avenue, Allston MA.
Opening for Another Planet.  617-254-9743

Wednesday, May 17, 7:30pm: Turning Point Cafe (www.turningpointcafe.com), 468
Piermont Ave., Piermont NY.  $7.50.  914-359-1089

Thursday, May 18, 10:30pm: Da Funky Phish (www.dafunkyphish.com), 1668 Union
Blvd., Bay Shore NY.  $5.  516-969-1039

Friday, May 19, 10pm: Limestone's, 7319 5th Avenue, Brooklyn, NY.
718-745-9699

Saturday and Sunday, May 20 and 21: Hexfest (www.hexhollowmusic.com), Barto
PA.  Vassar Clements headlines!  DG performs at 7pm Saturday and 2pm Sunday,
plus jams to be determined.  Call 1-877-HEX-7658 to order tickets.
  

    

Friday,  January 7, 2000 12:00 noon

I had a lovely rehearsal with Scott Fernandez (keyboards) and Duane Day
(bass) last night.  It's been a while since i played with a band in anything
but a spontaneous jam situation, so I'm really looking forward to the gig
tomorrow night.  These guys really like my material, and we are going to
deliver dynamic performances.  We'll run through everything with the drummer,
Mika Scott, at soundcheck.  I'm psyched!

And it *really* makes me want to play with the Reptiles again soon!
  

    

Sun  9 Jan 00 12:17 32

REALLY fun gig in Redwood City last night, even if the keyboard played got
sick and missed it!  I borrowed Patti Cobb from the Sam Pointer Band, and
because Duane (the bassist) had made head charts of most of the songs, she
was able to handle things pretty well.

Very little went according to "plan," but that's fine!  Instead of opening my
"headlining" set with a solo acoustic performance, my set emerged gradually
from Mika's drum circle on the floor.  Mike LiPuma, the bassist from the Sam
Pointer Band, got up and started playing along with the drum circle, and I
joined him in acoustic guitar.  Eventually, Mika came up on stage and joined
us, and we jammed into "Wharf Rat" and "Rubin and Cherise."  It was a very,
very solidly Deadhead crowd, and this sequence was a pleaser.

Then I played a few songs solo acoustic, before Duane joined me on the bass
for "Falling Star."  He taught himself the song from a CD of me doing it with
Henry Kaiser (the only time I've ever done that song with anyone else until
now), and we did a pretty good job with NO REHEARSAL.

Then I switched to electric, brought Mike (drums) and Sam (electric mandolin)
and Patti (keyboard) up, and we did our prepared set of "I Bid You Good
Night" into "Leave Me" into "Terrapin" into "River and Drown."  Lots of
energy, and it felt GREAT to be playing electric again.

The big finale, with most of the evening's players on stage, was "Rainy Day
Women" and "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Understanding."  I sang the
latter.

I may invite some of these players to join me in Sebastopol on February 19.

Got lots of good feedback on my singing, too.
  

    


Fri 28 Jan 00 09:41 25

Wool Warehouse Incident in ABQ last night.  String Cheese Incident is a great
band, and a swell bunch of guys, too.  Norm and his crew put on a great show
at the Wool Warehouse.  My tweener set was fun, but odd: I was using in-ear
monitors for the first time, which makes the experience more like a recording
studio than a live gig; that is a good thing, once you get used to it.  And
the lights were so strong and the smoke machine's output so prodigious that I
couldn't see a single soul out there in the house.  So I FOCUSED on the
performance, and I delivered.

At the end of my set, the SCI guys came out to join me.  We did a jam into
"Big River," which was a major crowd-pleaser.

 River and Drown
 Rubin and Cherise->
 Autumn Day->
 Brokedown Palace
 Blue Roses->
 Sitting in Limbo
 I Bid You Good Night->
 Leave Me
 Big River (with String Cheese Incident)
  

    

Sat 29 Jan 00 08:35 38

My set went very well, I think. I could see people a little better this time.
The response seemed reasonably enthusiastic from where I stood, and many
people have praised my performance to my face since I got offstage.

I wrote my set list three times. Each revision was in the direction of more
originals and more adventure. This band and this audience provided an
atmosphere that felt safe.

 Jacqueline
 Black Peter->
 Travelin' Man
 The Minstrel
 Terrapin->
 Attics of My Life
 The Nightmare
 River and Drown (with String Cheese Incident)


The rehearsal was fun, but the gig was the stuff!  Michael played fiddle
instead of mandolin; Kyle played the organ; Travis and Keith nailed the beat;
and Billy found a nice harmony line to sing. Everybody played killer solos,
too. Easily the best performance of "River and Drown" ever.

My written setlist had "An American Family" coming out of "Attics," but I ran
out of time.

I got an inspiration while warming up. I had to do something to jazz
"Jacqueline" up -- to provide some melodic interest where the instrumentals
are on the record -- so I whistled the intro and scatted the guitar solo. I
hope people didn't think that was too weird!  The vibe of the song was
perfect for the set-opener; I didn't feel the need to hit 'em hard with a
hooky, upbeat cover tune.



From the String Cheese list:

Date:    Mon, 7 Feb 2000 12:25:14 -0500
From:    Andria Fiegel Wolfe <andria@ILLUMINATRIX.COM>
Subject: AlbuquerQueso

[...]

And speaking of tapes, I sure hope that (for my selfish self) David Gans' set
break show was recorded.  Wow.  I'd never seen him before and had no
expectations at all... but he alone was almost worth the trip. We were in a
group sitting on the floor at the front of the stage, resting and chatting,
but as soon as he started singing, I was riveted.  He's got one of the most
beautiful singing voices I've ever heard, and I was absolutely enchanted.
Great set both nights, and I hope that those of you who weren't there might
get a chance to hear it.

[...]
  

    

Sunday, February 20, 2000, 12:30 pm

Powerhouse Brewing Co. in Sebastopol last night.

The Sam Pointer Band opened with a tight, well-received set.  I started my
show with half an hour or so of solo acoustic stuff, which was very well-
received.  I felt totally in command, and the audience was most attentive!
I'll post the list after I've had a chance to listen to the tape.

Patti Cobb joined me for four numbers.  We started with a mutual guilty
pleasure: "The First Episode at Hienton," from Elton John's first American
album.  Then we did my songs "Travelin' Man" and "Falling Star," and on the
latter Patti surprised me by delivering a beautiful and well-developed vocal
harmony for almost the whole song.  We had a nice improvisation in the
middle, too.  We closed with "Thunder Road," which also worked very well in
the duo format.

When the Pointer Band joined us, I swapped Vince Welnick in for Patti.  We
did "What's Your Name," which the audience loved, and then jammed out
handsomely on "Scarlet Begonias" and "Goin' Down the Road Feelin' Bad."
Vince was excellent, and the audience loved him!

The prepared set, me and the SPB:

Tear My Stillhouse Down
Jacqueline
Rubin and Cherise
Crazy Crazy Crazy
I Bid You Good Night->
Leave Me->
Terrapin->
Hooker River
The Minstrel
River and Drown


"Stillhouse" was not the way we rehearsed it.  I started the song with some
licks on the electric guitar, and the band fell in nicely -- a much chunkier
reading than we had rehearsed.  "Jacqueline" was much tighter and also
livelier than the rehearsals would have promised.  We took "Rubin and
Cherise" much too fast, as dance-floor fixture Maya Baldwin noted after the
show.  It's a great song, but I've only played it solo before now and it
needs some work on the ensemble groove.

The rest of the set went swimmingly.  The transitions were excellent, the
soloing pretty high-quality, and the interaction was much better than we had
managed in rehearsal -- just as I knew it would happen.  I have learned that
you can't rehearse the most important elements of this kind of performance:
you just get the structures roughed out and then trust the muse to smile down
on us when we hit the stage.

Choosing good players is crucial, and I scored with this band.  I've played
with the bassist, Mike LiPuma, off and on for nearly 20 years, and drummer
Mika Scott is one of my all-time favorite jamming partners.  I had never seen
Patti Cobb before we played together on January 8, but we really hit it off
at that gig and we've had a couple of one-on-one rehearsals to prepare for
last night's gig.  She REALLY did her homework, and brought a great deal more
to the party that I would have expected.  And Sam Pointer delivered some fine
work on guitar and mandolin, in both support and out-front roles.  His solo
in "Crazy Crazy Crazy" was so good that I didn't bother trying to follow him
with one of my own!  Went right to the last verse instead.


The turnout was reasonable -- around 40 paid.  Not bad for my first gig under
my own name in Sebastopol.

The sound man was my old friend Harry Popick, who use to mix the monitors for
the Dead.  He did a great job for us.
  

    

Thu  2 Mar 00 13:00 211

I left the <fiddle> house and drove out to La Crescenta to my cousin's house,
marveling all the way at the beauty of southern California.  I grew up in the
San Fernando Valley, with the rolling hills of the Porter Ranch and Mission
Peak behind our house and the more forbidding, craggy, purple San Gabriel
Mountains across the way.  Driving around to the San Gabriel Valley on a
sunny day following much rain, I just marveled at the vegetation that clings
to those hard mountainsides.  The growth of human habitation is still eating
those place up a little at a time, but there is still a great deal of natural
splendor available a few minutes' drive from the middle of town.

Turning off the main drag of La Crescenta, I drove up Briggs Street for about
a mile of straight incline, thinking how tough it would be for a bike-bound
kid living at the top of this.  And at the top, I turned into the street
where Vicki and Vidal live, parked the car in the driveway and just took in
the view for a couple of minutes.  That San Gabriel Valley!  Those mountains!
 There's a koi pond in the front yard, teeming with a fresh batch of baby
goldfish in among the larger beauties (some up to 8 inches long).  Lots of
desert plants in the garden, appropriate to the location.

My cousin Vicki broke the news to me that El Muerto had to go to San Diego
for the day.  He is the 1-800-AUTOPSY guy -- which is why he is known as "El
Muerto," which he calls me, too, because I also work with the Dead.  He runs
a private autopsy service, which includes many weird things like harvesting
certain organs by prearrangement from deceased persons.  I saw a fax on his
desk regarding the donation of certain inner ear items to a research
facility.  That sort of stuff.  Vidal is the go-to guy when you want a brain
removed properly.  He is a large ad extremely good-humored Mexican-American
who rose up from the streets of the barrio to become a great Southland
success story.  He and my cousin have been married for 20 years or so, and
they have two sons, Max and Zach, who are characters just like their Dad.

The whole crew is a great pleasure to hang out with.  Last time they were in
the Bay Area, on vacation (though Vidal can't go anywhere without his pager
and cel phone, because he is never truly off duty), we met at a Chinese
restaurant on Piedmont Avenue.  The 1-800-AUTOPSY van always draws a crowd!

With El Muerto out of town and the boys at school, it was just Vicki and
myself and Vicki's mother, Anita, my mother's younger sister.  She was
widowed a couple of years ago, and she is doing very well indeed.  She is a
very successful artist, with a thriving print business.  I once checked into
the Four Seasons Hotel in Toronto and found her work on the walls.  When I
asked her about it, she told me she had been hired by the Four Seasons to
produce prints for every room in their Canadian chain!

The three of us went to lunch in La Crescenta and had a fine chat about
various family members.  Most everyone is doing well.  It was nice to spend
time with the two of them, and we each got to talk about what's going on in
our lives.

Anita was heading in the general direction of where I was going, so I
followed her back down the hill and over into Hollywood, where I hung a left
on Sunset and started zig-zagging through town to avoid the late-afternoon
traffic on the main arteries.

I arrived at the Smolin house, where I was greeted by a crazed Milo wearing
an alligator-shaped towel over his head and screaming incoherently every few
seconds.  "You understand that this is entirely for your benefit," Barry
explained.  Of course!  I responded with a bit of tickle-torture, which more
or less completed the bonding transaction.

After a brief audience with the lovely Phoebe (I never did clap eyes on
Noah), Barry and I headed out to Santa Monica.


We arrived at 14 Below at around 5:30, before any other musicians and before
the club personnel.  I was stashing my guitar and gig bag in the office when
the club manager arrived.  While we were schmoozing with him, the Tricksters
arrived.

We weren't expecting an opening act.  "They're a jam band, and they're really
excited about playing with you guys," said Todd.

It was also apparent that we would not be getting a soundcheck, so the band
loaded in their stuff and then headed off to check in to the hotel.

Rip Rense arrived.  Barry and Rip and I walked the mile or so down Santa
Monica Blvd. to the Third Street Promenade, found a restaurant and had
dinner.  Nice to catch up with Rip, who I communicate with mostly via email
these days.  He has been working with the Persuasions lately, trying to get
them a decent record deal.  They recently released a fun kids' record, and
they are about to release a CD full of Frank Zappa covers!  They recorded
"Black Muddy River" (which Hunter LOVES!) for my "Stolen Roses" project, and
there is some interest at GD Records in having the Persuasions do a whole CD
of Dead songs.

We talked about the sad fact that the Persuasions have been well and truly
fucked in their (40-year?) recording career, earning next to nothing from
even their more successful releases.  I told Rip that GD Records works
differently, and that they'll be paid their fair royalty from the very first
copy of "Stolen Roses" that's sold.  And if we can get a CD out on GD
Records, they'll get paid for that, too.

After dinner we walked back toward 14 Below.  We decided to look for coffee,
so we walked two blocks over to Wilshire Blvd. in search of a Starbuck's. Rip
was sure there was a Starbuck's nearby, and/or a place called Anastasia's
Asylum.  We walked and walked.  No coffee.  Stopped at a movie theater to ask
someone, and then we headed away from the ocean, passing higher-numbered
streets, until we were pretty sure there was no coffee to be found.  So we
walked over to Santa Monica Blvd, where we failed to find any coffee shops.
"There's a Starbuck's just about everywhere you turn in this town," Rip
moaned, "except when we're looking for one."  Yes, hey are like cops in that
respect.

We walked into the restaurant next door to 14 Below and had a cup of regular
coffee.


By then the opening act, Starless, was onstage.  Loose, needs work, but there
is a gentle soul playing that Strat and singing those songs, and I found a
certain charm in their performance.  Two drummers, bass and guitar.  I
learned afterwards that they had had a keyboardist until two gigs ago.

Just before I went on stage I was approached by a tall, handsome
Pacific/Asian- looking guy.  "David?" Oh, right!  I had been corresponding
with this guy via email recently: "John!"

It was John Brown, who was John Brown III when I knew him in 1970-71 in San
Jose.  We had the same birthday, and we were both wannabe singer-songwriters.
We played a lot of the same high-school hootenannies and coffee houses as
teenagers.  The highlight of his career when I knew him was appearing on a
network talent-search show, in which they made him sing Carole King's "It's
Too Late" instead of one of his own songs.

Here was standing before me, 46 years old just like me and just beautiful.
His hair is shorter now, but otherwise he looks exactly the same.  Sweet,
friendly guy, too.  He's got a wife of 17 years and two kids, 11 and 4, and
he also has a new CD that just got national distribution.  "It may not be
your style," he said -- and this was BEFORE he heard me sing!  -- but I hope
you like it."  He's been making a living as a musician for most of his adult
life, and that's good.

Also arriving: Geoff Gans, to whom I am not related except professionally. He
was the art director for the GD boxed set.  We met at Dan Levy's wedding last
May, and we enjoyed our collaboration even though poor Geoff was in a
pressure cooker of a short deadline.  I got him signed up to do the package
for "Stolen Roses," too, so we're about to start working together on a
project with a much more reasonable time frame.

I was also greeted by herb Launer, a friend from the Bay Area who's in SoCal
rehabilitating an old family home.

There was a more-than-respectable crowd in the house for this show, and it
was extra nice to have these good friends in attendance.

The plan was for me to play solo, and then the Tricksters would join me for a
couple of numbers.  I suggested we do "Black Peter" into "Playing in the
Band," and I'd drift offstage during the jam and let the Tricksters take
over.

While we were setting up and soundchecking, Jeff Mattson and I were farting
around with this and that and I asked him if he knew "Return of the Grievous
Angel."  Of course he does!  "Do those guys know it?"  "No," he replied.
"Okay, then, let's open with that as a duet."  I asked the rest of them to
join me for "Brokedown Palace," which as is my habit I dedicated to the
patron saint of Grateful Dead tape collectors.

These two numbers went deliriously well.  Jeff backed me with a sweet twangy
guitar and a vocal on "Grievous," and it felt GREAT to have the whole
Tricksters band with me on "Brokedown."  Every time I looked back at the
drummer, Joe, he was grinning right up at me!  They're all such good players,
and nice guys to boot.  As they left me alone on stage, I was feeling great.

While schmoozing in front of the club, I was introduced to a friend of the
band's who had come out from Durango.  Mindy had seen me perform somewhere,
so she had a couple of requests for songs I don't usually do.  But I told her
if the mood was right when she called out for 'em, I would probably be able
to give her at least one of the songs she had in mind.

Here's the list:

Return of the Grievous Angel (with Jeff)
Brokedown palace (with ZT)
Blue Roses
River and Drown
Normal
Rubin and Cherise->
The Minstrel
Sovereign Soul
King of the Road
An American Family
Black Peter->
Playing in the Band (with ZT)


I had summoned the band after King of the Road, but while we were waiting for
all of them to materialize I heard someone call for "An American Family."  I
was happy to oblige!  And one by one, the Tricksters joined me on stage and
picked up the song, which they had never heard before -- an impressive OJT
moment!!

The whole thing felt great.  The audience was with me all the way.  I was
worried that the energy might drop off after the band left the stage
following "Brokedown," but they stayed with me and I gave my performance
plenty of energy.  Despite the hugely Dead-friendly nature of the crowd, I
never felt pressured to stick to the cover tunes.  I guess everybody knew
they'd get their fill of that stuff over the course of the evening.

I also think Barry Smolin has done a great job of exposing my music to the
listeners of Los Angeles.  That's why there was a request for "Am Fam," and
that's why some people seemed to lock right in to the groove of "R&D."

After my set I got lots and lots of compliments and handshakes from people in
the audience, and my friends were all effusive in their support.  Geoff and
Rip had never heard me sing before, and both were highly complimentary.

It was a great evening for me.  I'm excited about tonight and the rest of the
tour.
  

    

Monday, March 6, 2000, 10:30 am

The fun continued in San Diego.

A GREAT turnout for ZT's and my first appearance in this town.  Winston's in
Ocean Beach is a nice club, much bigger than 14 Below.  Great staff, great
audience.  And they were most receptive to me as well as to the Tricksters.

This format works VERY well for me.  And the Zen Tricksters are just a blast
to play with.

Most of the band left the stage after the first "chorus" of "Dark Star," but
Klyph stayed with me and we jammed for several minutes, just guitar and bass.
Then I quietly sang the second part of "Dark Star," and that was that.  Fun!

I'm just gonna have to remain schizo about the Dead connection for a while
longer.  It feels so good to play these songs with such fine musicians, and
the audience obviously loves it.  But they're also receptive to our original
stuff, so I'd say we're ding something right.

I am really feeling strong out here.  And I'm getting a very good vibe from
the Tricksters, too -- I think this is an everybody-wins situation, and I
expect we'll be doing this some more.

These guys have agreed to be part of my strategy to make a "solo" CD: I want
to pitch a deal where I record one song with each of my favorite jambands.
Strangefolk, Blueground Undergrass and the Tricksters have already said yes.
I think it's a very strong idea for a CD project, and I will be able to find
someone to pay for it.

Oh, and the sound guy at Winston's, who is also the booker, was most en-
thusiastic about having me back here ASAP, Tricksters or no (it'll be 6
months before ZT gets back here).  I'd like to bring the Reptiles!  Maybe we
could play 14 Below, too.


Friday, March 3, 2000
Ventura Theater


I Bid You Good Night (1)
Return of the Grievous Angel (2)
River and Drown
The Nightmare->
Blue Roses
Scarlet Begonias
Normal
Falling Star
Popstar (3)
The Minstrel (3)
Sovereign Soul->
Travelin' Man


1 = w/ Molo, Karan, Mattson, Black and Barraco
2 = w/ Mattson
3 = w/ Karan


I had a hotel room of my own on Thursday night in San Diego.  When we got
back after the gig, Joe said the plan was to meet at the Denny's across the
street for breakfast at 9:00.  We needed to be on the road by 10:30 in order
to arrive at the Ventura Theater in time for load-in.  Everyone was excited
about playing with John Molo and Mark Karan.

I asked for an 8:30 wake-up call.  That gave me a solid five hours of sleep.
I showered and walked over to Denny's, picking up a newspaper on the way.  I
asked for a table for four and was seated at nine sharp.

Klyph and Jeff arrived at 9:35.  When I told them I had been advised to be
here at 9:00 they laughed and clued me in to a few basic rules of life on the
road with the Zen Tricksters.  One rule is, "Don't lend money to Rob," but I
didn't get much background on that one.  Another is, "Get into the bathroom
before Jeff."  I'll let you work on the various possible reasons for that one
on your own time.

I had given up and ordered, so I was finishing my meal and my second cup of
coffee by the time Joe arrived and the three Tricksters ordered (Rob had
spent the night at a cousin's house and was to be dropped off at the
restaurant imminently).  I made a quick call to my email server and then
packed up my stuff.

We made pretty good time up to Ventura, a distance of around 165 miles if I
remember correctly.  We took the 5 to the 101 (that definite article is a
southern California idiom) and made it through LA with minimal delays.  Rob
Barraco rode with me, and we had a nice talk about all sorts of stuff.  I've
worked with the Tricksters a few times before, but we've never really had
much chance to hang out, so it was nice to get to know the guys over this
four-day period.  We talked about Rob's experiences in the Phil and Friends
world -- and once again, a new POV caused me to shuffle my prejudices and
reevaluate my feelings about what happened to me there two years ago.

We also talked about working together some more.  There are some
opportunities to fill in for Rob while he's working with Phil Lesh; they have
taken Barry Sless out on some dates, and a former Trickster has done some
shows, but everybody seems to like the idea of having me in there for some of
these gigs if I can make the time.  I certainly like the idea -- playing with
these guys is a real pleasure, and the exposure will be worth a good deal,
much like this week's trip.

It was raining in Ventura when we arrived.  The theater was open and the
sound crew was at work, and there were a couple of plastic trash barrels
catching roof leakage in the wings on the other side of the stage.  Ardas,
the promoter, wasn't there yet.  We had been expecting food upon our arrival,
but no one was too upset not to be fed immediately.  We brought all the gear
in and the Tricksters got to work setting up.  They're on the road with no
sound guy, no crew (their merch guy, Jonas, had taken off for a few days on
some sort of free trip to Hawaii) -- just the four of them, and me for a few
days.  I volunteered to go for coffee while they worked.

When I got back, the Puddleduck truck had arrived, along with three of the
four players.  Molo was traveling separately.  We all had a grand time
shooting the shit, setting up equipment, horsing around.  Mark Karan and I
have been corresponding via email and telephone for a while, so this was the
first time we'd met face to face.  The CD of my songs that I sent him had
only arrived that morning, so he didn't get to hear it before we played.  But
he was game for learning some stuff to play with me in my set.

John Molo arrived.  He's a very pleasant, funny guy, and I was surprised that
he had any idea who I was but he was plenty friendly when we were introduced.

Bob Gross, the bassist and vocalist, said to me, "I understand you went to
school with my friend John Brown."  I had forgotten that there was this
connection -- when John Brown and I were hanging out at 14 Below on Wednesday
night, he explained that he had gotten my email address from his good friend
Mark Karan.  So there was an instant bond of familiarity between us, despite
the fact that our mutual friend and I hadn't seen each other in 30 years
until two nights before.

I was knocked out by the Jemimah Puddleduck soundcheck.  Arlen Schierbaum,
the keyboardist, makes amazing sounds with classic instruments -- Hammond
B-3, Leslie speaker, Wurlitzer electric piano-- running thorough an array of
guitar-type stomp boxes.  No need for synthesizers!  But what really blew me
away was the drumming -- and leadership -- of John Molo!  They did a jam
based on the melody of "Streets of Laredo" (You know the tune: "I see by your
outfit that you are a plumber," as a girlfriend sang it to me in 1971), and
every time they ran through the changes Molo played a different groove.  He
also called out some changes -- "Now stay on the one!" -- and led the band
through some impressive stuff.

After the finished the soundcheck I was marveling out loud about what I had
heard, and Molo explained that this had been the "condensed, rehearsal
version" of the piece.  It was as if they had placed some pins in the map to
show where they might go during their explorations.  And sure enough, when
they played it during the gig they connected those dots quite handsomely.

When everyone else was finished, I plugged in my stuff and played a couple of
songs so the house engineer and the monitor guy could tweak the EQ.  I had
explained that my Turner guitar is a soundman's dream -- "The good ones love
it, and the idiots can't fuck it up" -- and the house guy told me I was right
about that.  While I was playing, I could see Karan leaning on an amp, paying
close attention to the songs I was singing.

After the soundcheck was finished, I realized that it wasn't going to be
possible for the Tricksters to join me for my set because the Puddleduck gear
was set up in front of theirs.  I got cranky about it for a while, but then I
realized it was because I hadn't eaten since the morning.

Jeff said he could get to his guitar and amp okay, and Klyph could reach his
rig, too.  Arlen offered his rig to Rob, who was delighted to try out these
classic instruments.  And since Joe was out in the van taking a nap anyway, I
asked Molo if he'd be willing to play drums on my first number.  It made
sense to ask Mark, too, and he readily agreed to join in.  Mark also said
he'd do a couple of things just him and me, and so I showed him "Popstar"
(which he had admired when I played it in my soundcheck) and "The Minstrel."

There weren't all that many people in the house when I started my set, but
there were enough to work with.  I thought, and ALMOST said out loud, "You
will tell your friends they should have gotten here earlier..." because I was
fixin' to play some great stuff with these guys.

I didn't even have to show Molo and Karan the changes; I said, "I'll play it
through once and you'll know it."  Molo had it before I'd played a full bar
of "I Bid You Good Night."  The groove was there from the start -- even
though something went wrong with Arlen's rig and so Rob was mute.  The two
guitarists did fine, and the rhythm section swung as if they'd been playing
it for years.  I felt on top of the world!

Jeff stayed with me for the second number, "Return of the Grievous Angel."  I
then played "River and Drown," "The Nightmare-> Blue Roses," "Scarlet
Begonias," "Normal," and "Falling Star."  Then I called Mark up for "Popstar"
and "The Minstrel," which felt great with his accompaniment.  The place had
been filling up steadily as my set progressed, and so the reaction got
stronger after each song.  After Mark left the stage I closed with "Sovereign
Soul-> Travelin' Man."

This was a strong, confident set for me.  The heart of the set was all
original stuff, with "Scarlet Begonias" the only Dead song and "Normal" the
only other cover -- and it's not a cover in the "cheesy, easy" sense.  I was
in the presence of people I really wanted to impress, and I could see them
watching me from the wings -- and I did not chicken out.  I played my
strongest songs, and I played them well.  And I got a great reaction, too.

I won't be able to hear it back until I get a tape from Ardas; maybe I
shouldn't listen to the tape, because it might be more perfect in memory than
in ones and zeros.  But I will very likely use this version of "I Bid You
Good Night" as my demo, 'cause it smoked.


I was knocked out by Jemimah Puddleduck.  Every one of those players is a
master, and they work together brilliantly.  There were some weird things
going on on the dance floor -- security guys chasing an underaged drinker
around, until the kid escaped onto the stage.  The band stopped twice in the
middle of this intense song, and Mark said stuff through the PA asking
everyone to cool it, etc.  The rest of the set was uneventful, except for the
amazing stuff being played on stage.

The encore was "Annie Don't Lie," which I know I've heard before but I can't
remember where or when.  Molo's drumming just blew me away -- I was standing
behind the amp line watching him with my mouth hangin' open.  He didn't just
turn the beat around: he twirled it like a baton, tossed it into the air like
a pizza, turned it inside out and back again, all in the space of a few bars
and all without ever letting anyone else on stage forget where they belonged.
 When the band finished, I stood there and blithered at Molo for a few
sentences, praising his drumming and the inspired improvisation of the entire
band.  He was more than gracious -- seemed pleased to have so obviously
turned me on.  It was thrilling music!


Hanging out with Mark, telling each other our stories, we learned that I had
seen him play one time very long ago: with Huey Lewis and American Express,
at one of their very first gigs, opening for Van Morrison and Mechanical
Bliss at Rancho Nicasio.  I remember being highly impressed by that band
(particularly a snazzy reading of "She's Givin' It All Up for Love," a Phil
Lynott song that got a bit more of the skinny-tie treatment when the band
became The News and made their first album.  Mark was impressed that I'd been
there!
  

    

From: snapperjackson@juno.com
Subject: GDH: DG & The Trixters
Date: Tue, 7 Mar 2000 22:30:57 -0800
To: gdh@lists.best.com


With all this talk of David's recent shows (and treeing them and such)

I have a question for you David ...
I know there was much improvisation during the mini-tour but were there any
other truly on-the-spot-unexpected spontaneous moments like that American
Family in LA.

I couldn't believe it!!!  For those that missed it, David's set began with
Mattson on Grievous Angel and then Mattson & Barraco for Brokedown I think
and then I think it was the whole band for another dead tune.  David
commented that he had sent them a CD of his material but it was lost in the
mail.  So, David played some stuff solo.

I kept wanting to "request" American Family but David wasn't leaving me much
room in between with banter and the next tune and such.  He had played a
healthy lil set and called out for the Trixters to come up.  I knew from his
comments that we would only get covers from him with the Trixters and I still
wanted American Family!!!

Rob came right up and no one else was around and David was just kinda waiting
for them so I called out AMERICAN FAMILY!!!  David was like "Oh yeah" like he
forgot about it or something and said he'd do it while waiting for the band.
As he's playing, Rob is figuring it out on keys and slowly getting louder and
David is telling him the cords and stuff and then the rest of the band starts
to filter up and figure out their parts one by one with David helping along
as he's singing and by the end it was just rousin and rockin and sounded damn
great!!!  It was one of the coolest things I've seen at any concert!!!

I'd love to relive that moment David if you have the tape of your set and I
know Julie Grabel would love a copy since she had too miss out on you!

Sorry to ramble but that was just AWESOME!!!  And then they followed that
with what is prolly my fav Jerry ballad (along with Comes A Time) BLACK PETER
... wonderful ... THANK YOU   THANK YOU   THANK YOU!

Was great to meet and talk with you too David!
  

    <scribbled by tnf Mon 29 May 00 21:30>
  

    

Monday, March 13, 2000

Jim Page is in town.  We have three gigs together this week -- Tuesday night
at Connecticut Yankee in SF; Wednesday night at Henfling's in Ben Lomond; and
Saturday night at Cafe Van Gogh in Grass Valley.

Jim has a couple of new songs to teach me, and he's going to learn a couple
of mine for these shows, too.



Wednesday, March 15, 2000

Sweet, sweet night at the Connecticut Yankee.  It's an old-fashioned SF bar,
built with wood from post-earthquake emergency shelters.  Some nice freaks
have owned it for the last eleven years, and they've recently been having
live music.

I had to schlep my PA from home, and I forgot my microphone.  The sound guy
had brought one mike, so Fritz (the owner) ran down the block to Bottom of
the Hill to borrow the grubbiest microphone I have ever seen.  Looked like it
had been bitten by someone.

The gig was a delight.  I just slipped right back into Jim's music as if last
December was last week.  We rehearsed some of his songs at my house this
afternoon, but we spent most of our musical time together working on three of
my songs: Listen, Jacqueline and River and Drown.  Jim fingerpicks Listen and
Jacqueline, and it works really well on those songs.

We had a decent crowd for 10pm on a Tuesday.  The proprietor and the promoter
were happy enough, and I was happy with the opportunity to show them how good
we are together.

We played all the duo stuff we knew, then took a break and did solo stuff.
Cynsa was there, so I made her come up and sing "Dixie Chicken" with me;
Patti Cobb was there, and although there was no piano for her, she came up
and sang "Falling Star" with me.  Then I did "Desert of Love," "Wherever I
Am," Black Peter" into "Blue Roses," and I forget what else.

Too tired to elaborate.  Tired but happy.




Thursday, March 16, 2000

Jim Page and me at Henfling's (Ben Lomond CA) last night.

God DAMN, that was fun.  The first time we toured, in December, I had cheat
sheets in front of me and I referred to them constantly.  This time, I had
all the songs IN HERE, so I could just concentrate on being a guitar player
and following Jim's delivery.  The whole first set I was in some kind of
magical zone, surprising myself and Jim and delighting the audience -- their
reactions were really powerful, and I could feel their attention even when I
was looking down at what I was doing.  It was a great feeling.

Jim has learned three of my songs -- "Listen," "Jacqueline," and "River and
Drown."  He does cool stuff on the first two, and we are going to try some
new ideas on "River and Drown" -- including maybe having him fingerpick it,
which will change the groove in (I hope) interesting ways.

I was feeling really peaceful and passive when Jim left me on stage to play a
solo set -- definitely not in my performer mode after all that laying back. I
drifted into "Gulf Coast Highway" (Nanci Griffith song I learned from Eric
Rawlins), and then I said to myself, "You have a zillion ballads of your own
and half an hour to work with -- why are you playing this?"  And then I
forgot the second verse, so I just morphed it into "An American Family" and
took it from there.

There were some very old friends in the audience.  Chris (Ferrill) Woodhouse,
a high school classmate of mine who was also very good friends with my
sister, showed up with her husband.  I didn't recognize her at first, but the
instant she spoke to me in the break I knew who she was.  And the for the
rest of the evening, while I was playing I was contemplating the contrast
between the pasty-faced stoners we were in 1970 and the well-groomed grownups
we are now.

Also in attendance were Pat and Paul Douglas, a suburban couple who for some
reason took in a gang of confused college kids and made a safe hangout for
us.  I spent a lot of time in their house, went on trips with that family,
crashed on their floor, took refuge from various heartbreaks and crises, etc.
In between sets they caught me up on the lives of several of my mates from
that group, all of whom seem to have exactly two children.

My face hurt from grinning after visiting with all these old friends between
sets.

The audience was modest but 100% with us last night.  Not a bad turnout for a
Wednesday night.  The guy who books Henfling's also books the Fat Fry; he had
high praise for the music Jim and I make together, and we're hoping he'll
offer us more gigs.

Likewise the High Sierra folks, who booked us into the Connecticut Yankee
Tuesday.  They liked what we did, and we're fishing for an invite to the July
4 festival.
  

    


Monday, March 20, 2000, 9:30 am

On Saturday we went to Grass Valley to play at Cafe Van Gogh, where we
performed last December.

We stopped in Roseville to visit with our mutual friend Peter Grant, a pedal
steel (and other slippery strings) player with roots in the same place Jim
and I got our starts.

We reminisced a bit, and we tried to figure out where I first saw Pete play.
Jim was already out of the south bay by the time I hit the scene.  Along the
way, we reminisced about the Doobie Brothers -- my pal Dave Shogren was their
first bass player, so I used to watch them rehearse as a trio at Tommy and
Little John's house on South 12th Street in San Jose.  Pete wanted to
concentrate on pedal steel, so he recommended his pal Pat Simmons for the gig
which led to superstardom.  We remembered Pat's technique of strapping a flat
pick to his thumb pick with a leather thong, and Pete recalled showing up at
Pacific Recording in San Mateo with his pedal steel, only to learn that no
one remembered inviting him and that the Doobies intended to play everything
themselves on their first album.

I regaled Jim with the tale of the "Dobro Dark Star" that Peter, Henry Kaiser
and I played at a bookstore in Larkspur when "Not Fade Away" was published at
the end of 1995.

But mostly what we did was PLAY.  I admired a ten-string dobro-looking thang
on Pete's wall (he had handed me a nice Epiphone 6-string to play), and he
hauled it down and proceeded to knock me senseless with his pedal-less steel
playing on this thing.  It's a D6 tuning, structured like the E6 neck of a
pedal steel but a deeper in tone.  And the sound of an ACOUSTIC PEDAL STEEL
(albeit without the pedals) was a pleasure to behold!  We sang "Tequila
Sunrise," "Sin City," "Across the  Universe," a couple of my songs, and I
forget what else.  It was a pleasure.


Before we left, Pete and Phyllis's 18-year-old son, Derek, showed us the
electric guitar he's building and made us watch a video of a Taiko Drumming
group called Ondeko Za -- just the part of the show in which two guys kneeled
on stage with three-stringed banjo-like instruments which they played with
GIGANTIC plectra.  The music was compelling enough, but the antics added
greatly to the thrill: one guy put down his instrument and slid in behind the
other guy, then slid his left hand in behind the other guy's so they were
playing three-handed Whatever;  then two-handed.  And then the guy resumed
his position and was handed a regular ol' western Banjo, with which he played
"Dueling Banjos" with the other guy.  Really fun.
  

    

Thursday, March 23, 2000, 11:00 am EST

The most amazing thing happened last night!

I got to my hotel room at Jacksonville after a long and mildly aggravating
flight.  No major upsets, but a series of minor annoyances.

I downloaded a heap of email but didn't log into the WELL.  Once I'd been
through the email and called home to say good night to Rita, I picked up my
guitar to play for a little while.

I've been working on Jim Page's "Butterfly Wings," using an arrangement that
is pretty much identical to Jim's.  I ran through the song a couple of times,
and then I started messing around with "Down to Eugene (to See the Grateful
Dead)," which needs a whole new musical setting (because I can't do it the
way Jim does).

That "whole new musical setting" arrived, as if on a pure beam from the
heavens.  It's a sort of Jorma-ish groove, which I am playing with a flatpick
rather than fingers -- a unique and stylish approach.  It was a really
exciting experience.  All the chord changes are relatively simple but totally
cool -- bridge and everything.

And now I have TWO great Jim Page songs in my repertoire.  I can't wait to to
play "Down to Eugene" out in Live Oak tonight!
  

    

Saturday, March 25, 2000, 9:45 AM EST

I went into the festival office in search of marking pens and paper so I
could write up the revised lyrics of "Down to Eugene," and I wound up
practicing the piece several times with two young hippie girl art students as
a focus group.  Christie and Alexa were making signs and were happy to have
me for entertainment -- and they were most receptive to the subject matter of
the song.

I was scheduled to do a 55-minute set on the indoor Workshop stage at 5:00,
following Guy Clark and Verlon Thompson.  It was a little bit discouraging to
watch the place empty out before my set, but there were a couple dozen people
there when I started. The set went well, and both "Down to Eugene" and
"Butterfly Wings" were very well-received.

Desert of Love
Waltzing Across Texas
An American Family->
Wharf Rat->
Broken Arrow->
Monica Lewinsky
Hooker River
Rubin and Cherise->
Autumn Day
Down to Eugene
Butterfly Wings
Brokedown Palace

The set list reflects both the songwriter-friendly nature of SpringFest and
the concentration of Deadheads in my audience. I had "Return of the Grievous
Angel" on the list as an option, but I ran out of time before getting to that
-- and I also stiffed an audience member who had requested "Travelin' Man"
because I did "Butterfly Wings" first and then realized I was out of time and
I had to do Brokedown for Christie and Alexa, who true to their word had
recruited a row full of friends to join them for my set.

Also in the audience was Joey Errigo, the winner of the songwriting contest.
I was one of the judges, along with Beth Judy (co-producer of the festival)
and Ed Greene of WMNF.  Joey was hands-down the best of the six entrants, and
I had been looking for her all day because I wanted to get thy lyrics to a
couple of her songs for possible adoption into my set. After I finished we
sat down together outside the hall while she dictated the lyrics to "Little
Sparrow" and "Georgia's New Spring Dress," which I also have on a cassette
she had given me Thursday night after the contest. "Spring Dress" is a folksy
tune with a supernatural component that I think will work for me.  I'm also
going to pass it along to Laurie Lewis.

I stashed my stuff in the car and wandered over to the Dance Tent, in the
middle of a large field across the road from the other facilities, where the
Glass Camels were performing. Dave Roberts of the Crawfish of Love was
sitting in on guitar -- they never did work things out with Dave Hendershott,
who had left the band a few days before last fall's MagnoliaFest under
extremely acrimonious conditions. There's still a great deal of bad feeling,
which is a shame because they all made very good music together.

Dave Roberts took off his Danelectro guitar and handed it to me, saying "New
Speedway Boogie."  All RIGHT!  I went right to work!  I like playing with the
Glass Camels, because they really do the Dead thing right: no set list, no
plans -- just get up there and see what happens. I stuck to rhythm guitar,
playing a solid part while Paul, the lead guitarist, displayed his usual
level of excellence. We interacted nicely at the end, when I took off the
guitar and brought the band down while encouraging the audience to sing
along; I traded vocal licks with Paul's guitar for the last few bars. That
was fun!  Then I put Dave's guitar back in its stand and left the stage.

There were plenty of great friends to visit with -- Blueground Undergrass was
here, and Donna the Buffalo, and of course all the regulars who volunteer at
Beth and Randy's festivals.  There are people from their scene in
Jacksonville, and quite a few characters who live at the Suwannee park full-
time and work the festivals. Earlene always works in the backstage feeding
area, and she is most sociable. She remembers the musicians from event to
event and always welcomes us warmly.

There's the gray-haired, pipe-smoking half-Asian guy who brings his mobile t-
shirt operation to the spring an fall festivals here, and there's Betsy who
runs the merchandising table adjacent to the main stage. There's Susan, the
stage manager, always pleasant and fun to schmooze with.

And of course, backstage is teeming with great musicians.  I didn't have
anything to say to him, but there was the monumental visage of Guy Clark
right there at a picnic table. And the oddly delicate Vassar Clements - a
strong, stony face but smaller than you expect, but just as friendly and
approachable as can be. He had the great Doug Jernigan on pedal steel, which
was a thrill for Mark Van Allen and the rest of Blueground Undergrass.

Joe Thrift was driving the Donna the Buffalo bus when they pulled, which was
surprising since someone had told me Joe had quit the band. it turns out he
has announced his retirement -- nine years on the road is enough for now --
but he's doing this gig and Merlefest before turning the keyboards over to
the guy he replaced back then. It's all amicable, as I would have expected in
this extremely warm family band. Jeb Puryear isn't here because he and his
wife just had their first baby.

I was invited to join Donna onstage, too. We did "The Race Is On" last year,
so hat's what they called this time, too.  just before I went on, Jim Miller
sang "Bottle Let Me Down" -- Donna doesn't do covers, but with Jeb out of the
lineup they're filling their sets with all sorts of unusual stuff. When I was
called to the stage I asked Jim if they could cover "Return of the Grievous
Angel" or "Pancho and Lefty," but he said not without a bit of brushing up.
So we did "The Race Is On," which was well-received by the huge and happy
Dance Tent audience. What fun to play with this great band in front of their
crowd!

As the song ended, Tara asked me to do another.  I had no idea what that
might be!  I called for "Not Fade Away," figuring it was as easy as anything.
 The performance was loose -- the bassist, Jed, had a bit of a learning curve
-- but it made the crowd VERY happy.

Planning to head home after that, I went over to the mainstage to look for
Blueground, just to pay my respects. Had a nice backstage schmooze with them,
and then I headed back to my car. I ran into Tom Gilbert, Donna's drummer,
and we went back over to the Dance Tent to smoke a bowl.  Marla, wife of
Donna's soundman Tomas, asked me for a ride back to the hotel, which I was
happy to provide.

I walked into my room and got out my guitar with the intention of changing my
strings.  I started playing "Down to Eugene," thinking about how to deal with
the fact that two notes in the main riff are played on the same string. With
the flatpick-and-fingers approach I'd been taking on the song, those two
notes were hard to play properly.  The solution presented itself instantly: a
different fingering that allowed me to play those notes exactly as they
should be played, without the flatpick.  This was so damn cool that I just
played it over and over for half an hour or so.

So now "Down to Eugene" is a totally fingerpicked song, the third one in my
repertoire (along with "Falling Star" and "Popstar"). And while I was playing
it through, I came up with an ending, too: repeating the last line with
different venues --

 Down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead
 Down to the Greek to see the Grateful Dead
 Out to Deer Creek to see the Grateful Dead
 Down to MSG to see the Grateful Dead
 Fillmore East to see the Grateful Dead
 Fillmore West to see the Grateful Dead
 Acid Test to see the Grateful Dead

 -- invoking both geography and history handily.

 This song is going to be an important one for me on this tour.
  

    

Monday, March 27

Tony Rice checked in and went to the room next door to mine. I paid my
respects and praised the "Pizza Tapes" CD of jams by Rice, Garcia and
Grisman.

Later, I was in my room perfecting the guitar part on "Down to Eugene."  I
was just in LOVE with this fingerpicking thing I had worked out, and I played
it over and over and over.  There were two sharp and forceful blows against
the wall of my bathroom, and for a sick moment I thought, "Tony Rice is
beatin' on the wall to get me to stop playing."  But a moment later there was
a similar impact, this one from farther away -- and, I now realized, from the
other side of the building, not from next door.  Whew!  I resumed my
practicing, a little more quietly.

I played my mainstage set Sunday morning at 11 in front of a reasonably large
and decidedly supportive audience -- lots more people than I had for my
mainstage set last fall.  Then I went over to the Dance Tent and participated
in a rip-roarin' jam with some of my favorite musicians on earth, the Glass
Camels. I really enjoyed jamming with both Saturday and Sunday. Sunday's
session was especially hot, I thought. We played Here Comes Sunshine-> China
Cat Sunflower-> Hey Pocky Way-> I Know You Rider, with tons of open jamming
in between. Mountain Jam popped up a few times, and at times there were
elements of Mountain Jam and China Cat intertwining beautifully. I was very
happy with the stuff I played, and I felt very much at home in the give-and-
take with those guys.  They are real listeners, and they like to work without
a setlist -- like the Reptiles. This is how GD music should be played.

I think it was Sunday when Tom Gilbert joined Scott Sisson for some double-
drum action. I stood behind the stage for a little while, looking up at the
two of them doing their thing. Tom is a handsome young freak with a look of
intense entrancement when he plays, while Scott embodies the good ol' boy
hippie musician: compact, androgynous, with long straight hair, nekkid under
his denim overalls, wearing a straw hat, with a lit cigarette hanging out of
his mouth, not working too hard but not missing a thing in the music goin'
by. And he's got a beautiful hippie wife, herself a musician, to complete the
picture. It's been fun getting to know this crowd over the last three years,
and I'm really looking forward to working with them again in the fall.

After we finished I went out by the soundboard to find someone who had taped,
and secured the promise of a DAT clone from one kind gent. I look forward to
hearing the playback.

I listened to the Habanero Honeys for a while -- which includes Beth Judy,
the co-promoter of the event -- and then wandered over to the mainstage to
check out Ralph Stanley. A giganto thunderstorm started dumping vast
quantities of moisture on everything, causing the monitors to make many
explosive noises that rattled those Clinch Mountain Boys more than a little.

I suddenly realized that I had left my rig on the Dance Tent stage, and since
that show was over I hurried back over there to retrieve my gear.

By now the storm was dumping vast quantities of wet everywhere, so Randy
reluctantly canceled the rest of the fest.

I drove my friend Gary to his car in the in parking lot, and just to be on
the safe side I waited to make sure he got out of there okay. He didn't.  His
clutch was busted.  So I took him back to the park office so he could call
AAA and then I waited with him at the car.

So instead of staying another night in a boring hotel room in Jennings FL, I
drove my friend Gary to his home in Tallahassee, where I was scheduled to
stay the next two nights anyway, and had a pleasant dinner with the family
(with the delightful new Mary Schmary CD, which I mastered last week, as the
soundtrack) and watched the last part of the Oscar broadcast after the
Burnetts all went to bed.
  

    


Wednesday, March 29

Attendance at Yianni's in Tallahassee was disappointing; the show was hard
work (modestly) rewarded.  This is another of those hippie dance bars where
everyone's standing up, and that sort of venue is always a challenge for me.
At various times the attention of the group would wander and the noise level
would rise, which I responded to by bearing down and raising my own energy
level to recapture the audience.

The set list reflects some input from the audience -- several songs I
wouldn't have done unprompted. And it wasn't just Gary Burnett doing the
prompting, either.

I met another promoter there that night, a guy who told me I could do much
better in other venues that he controls.  I gave him my card and invited him
to get in touch, so we'll see if anything develops.  I'm not sure there's
much point in returning to Yianni's if they can't do a better job of
recruiting an audience.
  

    


Thursday, March 30: South Florida

I stayed with Michael Gouker, a tape-tradin' fiend from the WELL who had
shown great enthusiasm for my music after hearing a few shows on tape. He and
his lovely Brazilian wife and two boys were very nice.

I said, "I knew a Bill Gouker when I was in high school in Foster Ci --"

"THAT'S MY BROTHER!  WE LIVED IN FOSTER CITY!" Michael shouted.  I remember
when Bill and his sister Jo started riding our bus to Burlingame High School.
 They stuck so close at first that I wondered (not too seriously) if they
were a couple rather than brother and sister. Eventually we got to know each
other.  Nice folks.  Michael is several years younger than Bill (Jo is
younger than Bill by a year or two, I guess).  Small farkin' world, isn't it?

Alligator Alley is in a strip mall in Sunrise, Florida -- pretty much the
western edge of civilization when I was here in the late '70s, but they've
paved and developed a lot more of south Florida since then.  I played in the
"music lounge," a smallish bar, rather than in the large showroom.  There was
a decent crowd for my performance -- maybe 40 people -- and they were warm
and responsive. Several people I know from the net were there.

The set list reflects a couple of requests that I was pleasantly surprised to
find musically satisfying -- particularly "Dire Wolf" and "Stella Blue."  I
played "Stella" in E, but while I was in the middle of it I decided I'd see
how it played in D for future use.  "Dire Wolf" was fun, and I may play it
some more.  I like the idea of playing a wider variety of Dead songs with
less frequency per title -- except for certain mainstays such as "Black
Peter," "Brokedown Palace," and "Attics of My Life."
  

    


Friday, March 31: Clearwater FL

Leaving northwest Miami, I took Alligator Alley (now known as I-75) across
Florida to Naples and then drove north up the west coast into the Tampa-St.
Pete area.  I was invited to stay with Michael Paul, a total stranger who had
read of my gig on the net.  He turned out to be about my age, with a wife and
many pets.  They took me to dinner with a small group of old friends, also
Deadheads, on our way to the gig.  It was a pleasant gathering -- lots of
questions, but I never felt like I was being grilled not pandered to like a
celebrity.

The Pharm is a hippie bar with a pool table, some comfortable old chairs and
couches near the stage, and MY CD ON THE JUKEBOX!  That was cool!

I was paid for 51 people -- beating the guarantee by four dollars (one
person) -- though I think there were quite a few more people in the place
most of the time.  Either they let a bunch of people in free or I got stiffed
for a few bucks, but I'll never know which.  The important thing is that I
had a good time and I played a very good show.  The guy said he was expecting
me to play until 1:30 -- it's that music-as-commodity thing you encounter in
the bar biz -- so I played two very long sets. This show was a lot of work,
but also rewarding. There were times when the ambient conversation at the
back of the room became oppressive, but I responded by playing more
aggressively and working hard to get the attention of the people back there.

The set lists reflects many requests from the audience, and evidence of my
comfort and confidence can be found in the presence of two instrumentals in
the set list. The first, "Haddon Hill," is a bluesy thing I made up a few
years ago, and the other (untitled) is a aleatoric piece with three major
components that I intertwine at will. I'm thinking of naming it "One Things
at a Time."

After the gig, Michael and I drove over to the wharf at Pompano Beach, where
I was invited to jam with crazy Fingers.  My pal Peter Lavezzoli was away on
another gig, so they had a substitute drummer -- and also a different
keyboardist for some reason. But Bubba and Cory and Rich were there, and we
had a fine jam whose exact details I can't recall right now. Really fun,
though, and we talked (again) about booking a few paying gigs together when I
come back in October.
  

    


Saturday, April 1, 6:00 pm: Valdosta GA

What is the deal with drivers in Florida?  TWICE today on I-75 I got stuck in
hour-long traffic jams, stop'n'go on the fucking INTERSTATE, with no apparent
impediment, miles from any city.  There seems to be some sort of weird
peristaltic phase weirdness that causes all the traffic to block up or
something.  Good thing I had good tunes and time to spare.  I have learned
that if there is slack in the schedule, you take it at the destination end
rather than delay departure. Murphy runs roadblocks.
  

    


Sunday, April 2, 6:30pm EDT

I have been on the move for days, it seems. I woke up this morning in
Valdosta after a very, very short night's sleep, grabbed some breakfast and
hit the road.  I knew I wasn't going to make it to Atlanta in time for my
2:00 soundcheck, and I also knew that wasn't going to be a huge problem.

What _was_ a huge problem was a brief but unbelievably intense rainstorm that
hit me on I-75 about 35 miles south of Atlanta. A few seconds of drizzle, a
few wiper strokes' worth of big fat raindrops, and then WHAM!  blinding rain,
in heavy traffic. I knew it was going to cause problems, but I wasn't
expecting to wind up parked in the fast lane for an hour and a half. I
listened to music and read email I had downloaded before leaving the hotel. I
was surprised at how peacefully I endured.

Once traffic started moving, I saw what had caused the stoppage: a car with a
camper trailer had spun out, blocking all lanes. I was afraid it was going to
be bloodier than that.

The southbound lanes were stopped, too, I saw as the northbound lanes resumed
speed.

Anyway: I am backstage at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta, with Smokin'
Grass blasting away at "LA Woman" downstairs. It's the second day of the two-
day Jerry Jam, Z-93's fifth annual benefit for River Keeper. Wavy is here,
too -- he co-celebrated a wedding in Stinson yesterday and is off to Montreal
tomorrow; I had thought we would miss each other by a day, but here we are.

Last night's gig was at JP's in Valdosta, with Live Roots sharing the bill.
This is Dave Hendershott's new band, after being kicked out of the Glass
Camels last fall. I jammed with several of these guys at SpringFest last
week. Nice bunch. The plan was for Live Roots to open; then I'd play a solo
set, and then we'd close with a jam.

The published showtime at JP's is 11:30 pm. The actual showtime was closer to
12:30. The crowd wasn't as big as we would have liked, but there were enough
people to make it fun, and they were surprisingly respectful and responsive
during my solo set. I played about half an hour and then invited Live Roots
to join me.
  

    



Thursday, April 6, 2000, 1:00pm EDT

Fun three days at WNCW, helping out with their fund-raiser. Last night I
performed live on the air with Marshall Ballew, a staffer here who is also a
musician, and Tom Constanten. We played "Down to Eugene" (with Marshall on
Dobro) and a short Dark Star/China Cat jam; TC played (and sang!) a Rolling
Stones song whose name escapes me (from "Aftermath," something about
"waiting"); then we did "Stella Blue" (with Marshall on lap steel), and we
closed with Marshall singing a Peter Rowan song, "Wings of Horses."  It was
fun, and the engineer says he might want to include "Stella Blue" on WNCW's
next compilation of live performances.
  

    


Friday, April 7, 2000, 11:00am EDT

Last night I played at the Tate Street Coffee House in Greensboro.  Small,
friendly place, well-attended show, barely adequate PA.  The place is owned
by Matt Russ, a friend of Rebecca Adams who I met at her house last year. He
seemed very happy with the evening.

And so was I. Inspired by a  conversation with Matt and his friend Greg, I
began the evening with two and a half Neil Young songs I haven't played in
years: "Birds," "Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere," and part of "On the Way
Home."  I got lost in the second verse and gave up.

The set list also reflects some enthusiastic participation from the audience.
I started "Loser" with a caveat: "If I miss those high notes, don't come
cryin' to me."  Got a good laugh, and I hit the damn notes, too.  Playing
"Grievous" got me a request for more Gram, which brought up "Sin City" again.
 I enjoy singing that one, but it made me miss playing with Eric.
  

    


Wednesday, April 12, 2000, 2:30 am

The tour ended on the sweetest note imaginable.

The sound man, Ronnie, was kind and competent.  We got everything dialed in
very easily.

There were half a dozen people in the place when I went off into a corner
with my guitar at around 10:30, the nominal showtime. I played with, among
other things, "I Will," transposing it to D After thirty years of playing it
in F. It was a delight under my fingers. Still too high for my voice, but I
knew I could pull it off anyway.

By 11:30, there were a couple dozen people in the place. Many of them greeted
me warmly, and one young woman asked me if it would freak me out if she and
her friends moved the couch they were sitting on out onto the dance floor in
front of the stage.  "Are you kidding?  I'd _love_ that!"  So they did it.
Kara told me she had been urged to attend this show by friends who had seen
me at SpringFest in Live Oak.

As I took the stage and turned up the volume on my guitar, I got a welcoming
round of applause.  I invited the rest of the audience to come closer, to
join the couchful of folks right up near the stage. A guy and a girl brought
bar stools right up hear the stage-right speakers, and other pairs and groups
did move in as well.

I began the set feeling completely welcome, safe and focused. It was clear I
was dealing with a Deadhead audience, but I really didn't want to open with a
GD song.  I was playing a C chord as I searched for an opening song, and
almost without thinking about it I started playing "El Paso."  The sound in
my monitor was perfect, and there were a couple dozen people tuning in to my
performance with obvious interest.

For the entire two-hour set, there were four to six people lounging in a
couch fifteen feet in front of me, and for most of the show there was a
beautiful red-haired girl dancing back and forth before me (and when she
wasn't dancing, she sat on a stool ten feet from me and listened intently).
Lots of people stayed in their seats attentively, and most people didn't talk
much.  It was a bliss-inducing quotient of communication for me as the
performer.  The feedback I got at the time and what was verbalized later make
it clear that the bliss was quite widespread.

"Black Peter" went into "Trying" instead of "Blue Roses."  A first: Several
people reacted to the line "Happiness shared is happiness doubled."  In fact,
two people remarked on it after the show, too.

Many people made many requests for original material -- I mean, "Play some
David Gans songs!"  "More originals!"  And here and there I heard a perfectly
appropriate request, e.g. "Rubin and Cherise" from two people simultaneously.

Someone called for "Eyes of the World."  I said, "Weeeellll," fingering the
chords as I prepared to beg off -- but suddenly there were four people
dancing!  They groaned when I stopped, so I went ahead and played it. It was
fun, too!  Some intense jamming, which served the dancers but probably won't
be to impressive on tape, led into "River and Drown."

As I was saying goodbye and walking toward the exit, Kara promised to bring
"150 people" to my next gig there. She also bought both my CDs, as did two of
her friends. Five or six of these guys and girls gave me warm hugs as I left,
and Kara gave me a nice purple crystal, too.

(When I got to Jacksonville Wednesday night and put the Wilmington tape in
the DAT player, I discovered that there was a problem with the feed that
caused it to be recorded at a barely-audible level.  So I was able to log the
tape, but it is not listenable.)
  

    


Monday, April 17, 20 00 1:00 pm

I am becoming more conscious of the narrative structure of my sets, although
it's as much a matter of instinct as intellect: I'm recognizing the threads
rather than constructing them.  I'm gaining more control over that narrative
by the minute, and my repertoire is starting to evolve accordingly.

Like it or not, I have developed a collection of songs that deal with the
Deadhead experience. "River and Drown," "The Minstrel," "High Guy" and "Blue
Roses" (not so obvious)," and now "Down to Eugene."  That's a thread that
works well as an internal road map, and those songs work well in sequence
with Dead songs -- "Leave Me" into "Terrapin" into "River and Drown"
resonates very deeply for me, and that gives my performance a heightened
sense of conviction.

"Leave Me" -- as I say, not obviously about the Dead, though it fell into
place after Garcia's death.  A gig or two ago I was thinking about how I used
to introduce "Leave Me" before it got hitched to the back of "I Bid You Good
Night."  I brought that back in Wilmington: "This is a song for those times
when huge things happen that you can't control; all you can do is learn how
to live with whatever it is.  We've all had those kinds of experiences; some
of us have had some of the same ones."  Then I did the "Leave
Me"->"Terrapin"->"Mason's Children" trifecta.

This development is causing me to refine my selection of covers.  I find that
in many cases all I need is one line that fits into the larger story being
told in my show. In "Return of the Grievous Angel," for example, the first
lines of the last verse cohere (for me, anyway) with the Dead thread: "The
news I could bring, I met up with the king, on his head an amphetamine
crown..."  "Rocket Man" is all about being on tour, of course.


I brought back a couple of old favorites on this tour ("Mason's Children"),
introduced one great new original and at least one major Dead cover ("Stella
Blue"), and I made an effort to play some often-overlooked originals ("High
Guy," "Wherever I Am," and "Trying" with a bullet), and downplayed some easy-
but-irrelevant stuff such as "Thunder Road."  I'm more confident in my own
material, and therefore less reliant on boomer hits.

I played a wide variety of venues on this trip, from the late-night hippie
bar in Valdosta to the intimate, nonprofit _music venue_ in Hickory.  I
enjoyed the Skylight Exchange, as usual, but I need to find a more
appropriate venue in or near Chapel Hill because on my third visit there, the
audience is no bigger than it was the first time.  Very nice people, but
there is no scene there and the Gavins don't seem to know how to create one
for me.
  

    


Thursday, April 20, 2000, 11:30 pm PDT

I opened for the Holy Modal Rounders at the Palms in Davis tonight.  I wish I
could play for that sort of audience in that sort of venue every day!  An
older crowd, educated, great sense of humor.  The "narcissistic cathexis"
line in "Desert of Love" got a big laugh!

And the Rounders -- yow!  They arrived in a beat-up old station wagon, five
guys and their instruments and their merch in plastic trash bags.  Steve
Weber seemed barely alive; Peter Stampfel seemed barely coherent.  But when
they took the stage, something great happened.  I was in stitches, and so
were the 75 or so people in the room.  I told the guy who hired me that if
they ever go on tour again, I want to open every show.

Oh, and another thing:  After my set, Barry Melton said to me, "You've got
talent, son!"