Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    

Oh, the Palms!  What a grand old tradition, what a fine and modest scene.
That's sweet of Barry.  Of course, you do.
  

    

David!  You are on the road and people are requesting YOUR original
material!!  (It's not just us here at home who know you and love your
work!!)  Waytogo!
  

    
Yeah, that's a cool feeling!
  

    

A big piece of my May journal appears as my first monthly "Postcards" column
on jambands.com:  <http://jambands.com/july00/columnists/gans.html>
  

    

Saturday, May 13, 2000, 11:59 pm

More than 72 hours into the trip, I finally get to play some music.

My friend Gary Greenberg came up from rural Connecticut to hang out and have
dinner before the show.  We parked my gear in a dressing room and walked up
the street to a Korean-Japanese restaurant for a fine dinner of kim chee-and-
tofu stew (spicy!), barbecued calamari, miso soup and vegetable -- man, I
can't remember the word for that fried stuff!  Weird.  Interestingly, part of
our conversation was about drugs, and the oddly underpublicized fact that the
purported ill effect of MDMA -- part of the putative rationale for banning it
-- has been found to be an effect of SSRIs like Prozac, Paxil, etc.  Yet
another widening of the frightful chasm between truth and policy in the War
On Some Drugs.

It was great to catch up with Gary on any number of subjects.

We ambled back to the Palladium in a fine, benign drizzle, and I proceeded
with my sound check.  Tom Constanten showed up, and when the sound crew put
his piano right at center stage where I had been standing, I intervened to
explain that we were planning to play together.  So they set him up to my
right, and after he checked out the piano, TC and I ran through our numbers.
I had sent him a CD of a recent performance, and he arrived ready to play
"River and Drown."  I suggested we do that one and follow it with "I Bid You
Good Night," jamming into "Dark Star."  We ran through "River" and "Bid,"
getting monitor levels right and a nice response from the workers and
hangers-on in the room.

My time slot was half an hour at the start of the show, nominally 7:45 to
8:15.  They were just opening the doors at 7:45, so I didn't go on until
8:20.

There was something vaguely creepy about this event, billed as a "Tribute to
Dick Latvala" with his picture on the handbill and everything.  The marquee
read "DICKS PICK" [sic], despite the fact that the CDs were not for sale
here.  Before the show started, they began to show some video of Dick on the
big screens, but there was a problem with the audio so that was aborted.  I
was to be introduced by a guy I had met a few years ago at WZLX; I demanded
to know what he planned to say, intent on avoiding any mention of the
Grateful Dead Hour. The guy, whose name I can't recall (TEMPURA, that's the
word I forgot up there!), was happy to comply with my request.  I couldn't
really make out what he was saying -- something about having interviewed me
and Dick on the air a few years ago, and it's unfortunate that Dick can't be
here tonight, you've known this other guy for years, yadda-yadda-yadda -- and
then he called my name in that gigantic, drawn-out radio/wrestling announcer
kind of voice that took about fifteen seconds to work its way up from the
depths of his chest and out into the room.  Scared me a little.

My mission was clear, my time frame short.  There were plenty of people in
the room and I was taking no prisoners.  I opened with "Down to Eugene," not
exactly nailing the fingerpicking but bearing down on the vocal and driving
it home.  Next was the in-its-prime "Black and Blue" combo -- "Black Peter"
into "Blue Roses," after which I stopped to greet the audience and make a few
comments about my misadventures en route:  "...and then I got here and my
guitar didn't.  But we were reunited yesterday at Logan Airport.  It was a
glorious thing.  I'm glad to be here; my guitar's here, and it's glad to be
here; and I'm glad you're here, too."  And the right into "Normal." There
were plenty of people down front -- young kids and older folks, too - lots of
attentive, responsive faces.  "Normal" got good reactions, and it felt good
to be up there in front of this group.

Not much time left, and I was deep in Deadhead Country.  With more time and a
less intensely focused occasion, I would have gone into "An American Family"
here, but the obvious call was "Terrapin."  I dedicated it to Dick, and
turned in a powerful performance that kept the audience enthusiastically with
me all the way through "Attics of My Life."  After that I plugged my gig
tomorrow night at the Grateful bread restaurant in Stoneham (I remembered the
name of the town!), mentioned my CDs for sale at the Wormtown Trading Company
booth, and introduced "a great musician and a good friend, Mr. Tom
Constanten."

"River and Drown" was solid, and Tom played some nice supportive and fills
and solos.  The audience was polite and attentive but not exactly grooving,
which disappointed me a little.  (Later, Greenberg suggested that the only
way for the song to have gotten a good response would have been if its lyrics
were "Grateful Dead Grateful Dead Grateful Dead Grateful Dead...")  But we
got 'em more involved when we launched into the "Good Night" groove, which we
developed a bit before I started the vocal.  We jammed handsomely after the
first chorus, but I think I cut TC off in mid-notion when I returned to the
vocal.  C'est la jam; we then moved fairly quickly into the A-Mixolydian of
"Dark Star."

We played the head instrumentally once and then jammed some more before I
sang it.  I understood that was the way to end our duet: to sing the first
verse and chorus and then leave the stage at the tacet.  I plucked a
harmonic, took off my guitar, gestured affectionately toward Tom and left the
stage as he launched into a "Dark Star" that was also "On Broadway."  I got a
nice round of applause as I left, and TC was off and running.  His set
included a simultaneous performance of "Wooly Bully" and "I've Just Seen a
Face."  The man has a great sense of humor.

Sometimes I don't feel that TC and I are improvising together, just
simultaneously -- but our interactions were pretty melodically and
rhythmically related this time around.  The tape bears this out.
  

    

Monday, May 15, 2000, 10:00 am EDT

On Sunday I checked out of the hotel in Westborough and set out on a
leisurely, time-killing drive toward Stoneham.  It being Mother's Day, I
called my mom, and then I called my brother to leave a message for his
daughter, who is arriving today from Madison; I'm hooking Caitlin (a fine
bassist) up with some musician friends to jam with while she's in town.

I stopped at a Walgreen's to look for a road atlas and buy some razor blades.
 The phone in my pocket rang while I was wandering the aisles (I also picked
up a bungee cord to put in my Yuppie Road Case), so I wandered around
aimlessly while chatting with my wife.  Then I drove over to the next parking
lot and went into the Wild Oats Market, where I bought a package of sushi
(Mmmm... Unagi!), an apple, and a fruit smoothie.

I got to the Grateful Bread, in the town square of Stoneham MA, with a couple
of hours to spare.  I walked across the street to a cyber coffee shop with a
big anthropomorphic hot dog out front, bought myself a big cup of coffee,
schmoozed about Mother's Day with the proprietor for a moment, and then
wandered back over to "The Bread."  Jeff Pagliccia was just leaving, so I
followed him over to his house (he lives with his parents a few blocks away).

I've met Jeff before.  He sponsored the GD Hour on WZLX for a while, and he's
been to most of my gigs in the area.  He was jazzed about having me in his
place, and I was happy to be there, too.

It was Mother's Day, and Jeff's grandmother was there, too.  Dad, Tony, gave
me a slice of his homemade pizza before going back out in the yard to resume
his work with a circular saw.  There was a sister in the kitchen, talking
with Jeff and the mothers about the wedding they attended last night.  It was
Jeff's best friend, Paula, who got married. Mom kvelled at me about her kids
for a while, raving about Jeff's talents and wondering why he hadn't settled
down yet.  The middle son has been married for four years but doesn't seem
interested in giving her grandchildren.  Andrea has a steady, so we'll see.
And so on. It was a sweet vibe, lots of affection and rich working-class
Boston accents, lots of talking-with-the-hands.  The pizza was delicious.
Tony makes good dough.

We went back over to the restaurant.  While the crew (all friends and
employees of Jeff's) was rearranging the furniture in the restaurant and
setting up the sound system, I sat out in front at a table on the sidewalk
and changed my strings.  Then I changed the batteries in my guitar, and while
I was changing the batteries in my tuner I broke off one of the battery
clips.  Loud sounds of frustration were emitted, and then I asked one of the
locals if there was a Radio Shack or music store nearby.  Within a few
minutes I was on the highway, with Keith (aka Mundo) and Melissa navigating.
We drove for about 20 minutes and wound up at a Guitar Center, where I bought
another tuning device just like the one I broke, and also scored ten sets of
my hard-to-find Austrian strings at the bargain price of $10 a pack.

Zoom, back to the Bread.  The sound system was an 8-channel TEAC mixer, old
but clean and in working order, with decent speakers and a decent vocal mic.
I used my own Countryman direct box, which has a microphonics problem that I
had better deal with.  The monitor was a weird guitar amp that sounded okay
after I tweaked it a bit.

The Grateful Bread is a tiny restaurant in a narrow storefront, with maybe
eight stools at the counter and half a dozen tables.  Jammed to the rafters
it might hold forty people.  As it turned out, we had about thirty, five or
six of whom hung out on the front step smoking cigarettes at any given time.
It was a Deadhead scene all the way, and the bulk of the set list is
originals alternating (more or less) with GD numbers.  But I did start with a
well-received "Grievous Angel," and I closed with Beatles: I had had a
request for a Beatles song before I started, which I honored with "I Will."
Then someone called out for "Blackbird," and while they were going nuts in
response to that I found myself launching into "Back in the USSR," which
seemed a perfect place to end the first set, right around the 65-minute mark.

I told the story of my baggage debacle.  This recounting gave me some good
ideas for the epic ballad I started working on before the show in Worcester.
I'm going to try to put some time in on that today, after I deal with the
$692 plane ticket.

I have played weirder scenes than this diner in Stoneham, Massachusetts.  The
sandwich shop in Springfield, Illinois (twice!) was a similarly unlikely and
yet sweet venue.  While it was going on last night I thought I should enjoy
these intimate performances while I can, because although there will be great
benefits to becoming more successful and playing in larger, more
"appropriate" venues, there is something very special going on here that will
not be available to me when the houses are larger and the audiences farther
away and less visible.  At the Bread I had direct, intimate contact with a
couple dozen rapt people, and I got a lot of really good information from
those eyes, those hands tapping on the counter, the swaying hips of the girl
who danced when the music moved her.  And in my second encore (I asked for
requests, and Jeff's mother thought "Broken Arrow" was desperately unhip;
Little Did She Know!), I heard more than a few voices singing the response
lines from the Dead's arrangement, and it made me feel happy and connected in
a way I probably wouldn't have felt even at Johnny D's, let alone The Middle
East.
  

    

Tuesday, May 16, 2000, 7:30 pm

I left the studio of WUMB last night at 7 with a big smile on my face.

I arrived at UM-Boston two hours early for my 6:00 interview, having allowed
more than enough time for traffic, parking and navigating on campus.
Everything is under construction around here -- not just the "Big Dig" (a
gigantic highway reconstruction project), but the UMB campus, too.  But I
found the radio station on the first try.

I spent some time visiting with the program director, Brian Quinn, and
recorded some fund-raising announcements (this is the station that carries
the GD Hour in Boston).  Then I schmoozed with Dave Palmater before we went
on the air together at 6:00.  I was told to expect a 25-minute interview and
to play three or four songs.

"Should I start with a goofy song or a serious song?" I asked.

"What's the thing that people will least expect from you?" Dave replied.  So
I started with "Desert of Love," and the interview was off and running.  Dave
took great care of me on the air, making sure people knew who I was but not
dwelling on the Grateful Dead connection.  I sang "Autumn Day," and "Down to
Eugene," and closed with "Brokedown Palace."  In between, we had a spirited
conversation about my songwriting methods, my airline/baggage debacle, my
problems navigating this beautiful but confusing part of the country, and so
on.

And when he broadcast was over, Dave Palmeter said, "You're good.  We need to
get you a gig here in Boston that has nothing to do with the Grateful Dead."
He's going to do it, too: an opening slot at Club Passim, he says.

After all the wisecracks about my problems navigating the area, Dave offered
to lead me out of the parking lot, off the campus and onto the Mass Pike.  We
left the radio station through a locked door, and to my amazement, we emerged
in the parking lot, right where my rent-a-car is parked.  That was pretty
cool, since I had to go up an elevator, across a lobby, out a set of doors,
through a maze of barriers and plastic tape around a construction zone, into
another building, up another elevator, across a Habitrail-like above-ground
walkway and down another elevator to get to the station in the first place!

I spent the night with friends in Framingham.  In the morning I drove to
Cambridge, where I immediately found a legal and convenient two-hour parking
space with 1:55 remaining on the meter.  I hiked around the corner and down
Memorial Drive to WMBR for an hour-plus appearance with Eli Polonsky and
Bassam, aka "Mighty Slim" (who certainly is), on "Lost and Found."  I played
and sang well, and I enjoyed the interview, which covered my own musical
endeavors as well as some Grateful Dead topics.

Then Eli and I grabbed a falafel from a truck on Mass Ave, jumped into my red
Mazda and drove across the Charles River for my 2:00 appearance on
www.radioboston.com, hosted by Pat Saxon.  Pat had interviewed Dick Latvala
and me live on WORC from Tammany Hall the day of our last Worcester vault
party a little over a year ago; now he has an afternoon jamband show on this
web station.  Again, a nice and productive appearance: I played some of my
own songs; got to say nice things about Strangefolk and Jiggle the Handle;
talked about what made the music of the Grateful Dead unique; plugged the
Gathering of the Vibes and MagnoliaFest; talked up "Stolen Roses" and the
Persuasions project.

I drove Eli back over to MIT, where his bike is parked, and headed off to
Allston in search of legal parking near Harpers Ferry.  At 4:20 I pulled into
a 2-hour spot across the street from the bar, and I walked around the
neighborhood killing time until my 5:00 meeting with Pat Shaw, interviewing
me for Boston Soundcheck.  She and her husband had seen me at the Bread on
Sunday and really enjoyed the show. The interview was good, I think -- she
asked thoughtful questions about my songwriting process, gave me good
feedback about my music (she really likes "Autumn Day"), and didn't make me
feel used when the conversation turned to the Grateful Dead.  We began the
interview over delicious Brazilian food at Little Brasil on Harvard Avenue,
and after we finished that business she solicited some advice from me about
freelancing. I gave her some advice and encouragement. I felt good about this
media encounter, too.
  

    

Thursday, May 18, 2000. Brooklyn

Tuesday night at Harpers Ferry was a pretty standard opening-act scenario.
There were a few dozen people there for my solo set, and they all seemed to
like it a lot.  By the time Another Planet took the stage, the place was
jammed.

Bruce Mandaro joined me on mandolin and vocals for "Return of the Grievous
Angel," which was a thing of beauty.  He played lovely fills and took a sweet
solo on the first half of the break, and then we played magically
intertwining lead lines together on the back half.  Yum!  Then Charlie from
Another Planet came on for an accidental "Friend of the Devil" and an
intentional "Cassidy."

I sat in with Another Planet for a few numbers, also joined by Larry Mancini
(formerly of Slipknot).  Big ol' Shakedown Street jam, and I forget what the
other song was.  Another Planet is seriously into establishing their
credentials as an original act, and Charlie was kinda weird about doing Dead
numbers.  This is another fuckup by the guy who set up these Massachusetts
gigs: he arranged this gig for me but didn't bother discussing it with the
headliner, so even though this is "Another Planet and Friends," the extent of
my participation was an open question.  I was just fine with the time I spent
on stage, and had to assure Charlie that I wouldn't be offended if they
concentrated on their own stuff.

Wednesday morning I got out of Boston early, never being sure of the traffic
situation on and off the Interstate anywhere in the northeast.  As it was,
there was a bit of a hitch approaching the Tappan Zee Bridge, but otherwise
it was smooth, so I arrived at The Turning Point at around 2:00, as the lunch
"rush" was winding down.  The staff are those prickly but kind types you see
in New York and New England, a bit forbidding as you approach but plenty
helpful and friendly once you make contact.  The man at the bar called
upstairs to John, the owner, who happily called around to get me a hotel room
when his usual place turned out to be sold out.  Being in need of a nap, I
headed on up there to check in.

John's directions were thorough, but my comprehension must have been a bit
off because I wound up back on the New York State Throughway; it was another
ten miles before I was able to turn around and head back to Exit 14.

I got into my hotel room, finally, and did manage to get an hour's sleep
before showering and heading back down to lovely Piermont.  Everyone was
really nice there -- the older staff and the young bartender and waiter (the
latter a stone Deadhead and longtime listener).  Soundcheck was pleasant and
painless, and the pre-show wait was a lot of fun because various people I
know walked in.  Mark Mattson, brother of Zen Trickster Jeff, was the first
familiar face; we had a nice talk about all sorts of stuff, including tenure
(he just got it), tapes, and the state of the Tricksters (Rob is working with
Phil Lesh a lot).

There were about 30 people in the room (capacity maybe 100 if you really pack
'em in) for my show, which was an entirely pleasant and relaxed affair.  I
had a little troouble with my freshly-strung guitar, so at one ploint I took
a short break to do a little stretching of strings.  At the very end of my
very last number, something went BOOM! and the lights and sound blinked for a
fraction of a second, startling everyone.

After the show I hung out for quite a while, signing CDs and talking with
audience members who lingered.  The owner, John, said he would have liked to
have seen 40 or 50 people, "so we were about halfway there."  Next time we
need to do more promotion and publicity, he said; he seemed more than pleased
with the quality of the performance, the enthusiasm of the response I got,
and my future as a performer.  I would love to go back to The Turning Point.
  

    


Thursday, May 18, 2000, 11:00 pm EDT. Bay Shore NY

Da Funky Phish is a tiny bar.  I arrived in a drenching rainstorm to find
seven or eight people at the bar, six or seven musicians setting up onstage,
and two friends from the net waiting for me in the back room.

The walls and counters are covered with poster and leaflets for upcoming
shows, but nothing about my appearance except a listing for "David Ganz" on a
postcard-sized calendar.  Later I found a flyer for the show, also spelling
my name wrong, and displaying my publicity photo side-by-side with a picture
of Jerry Garcia.

The opening act is on stage now.  Their singing is awful, their instrumental
skills marginal, their cohesion tenuous.  Their cover of "Southern Man" is
horrifying.  Their alpha, _______, greeted me happily when I walked in.  His
scenario has their band playing a set, then me playing a set, and then all of
us playing a set together.

That's not what I had in mind.

I am going to play with John Zias, who I have corresponded with and whose
music I have heard on CD-R.  We'll play "Bird Song" together, and if that
goes well we'll play some more.

The schlep out here in the rain was a trial.  Getting back to Brooklyn will
be challenge, and I'd like to do it before 4am.  For that and aesthetic
reasons as well, I am not inclined to stay here late.

The boss, Greg, finally showed up and also greeted me warmly.  I hope he gets
what he needs out of this deal.  He doesn't seem like the sort of guy who's
going to chisel me on the bucks.

*

(Postscript 5/22)

I did get paid.  But jeez, what's the point of booking an act if you're not
going to do a goddamn thing to promote the show?  This could have been a fun
gig if there had been an audience in the house.  The sound guy would have had
an occasion to rise to.

In the days that followed this gig, quite a few friends pointed out that the
Deadhead density in this part of Long Island is staggering; it's a shame none
of them knew I was playing.
  

    


Friday, May 19, 2000, 6:30 pm EDT

I have spent a few hours with the Persuasions over the last two days, and I
am in love!  Wait til you hear these guys doing these songs.  They GET IT
about the Dead, for sure.

"Might as Well," "One More Saturday Night," "It Must Have Been the Roses,"
and "Brokedown Palace" are the ones I have heard the most so far.

Today they were working at the Dance Studio of Park Slope, a dozen blocks
from the Gehrs' house (where I am staying).  I walked in through a sea of
little girls in tights and sweats to find the Persuasions working in a small
mirrored room with great big acoustics.  I just sat there hanging in for an
hour or so, listening to them and only speaking up occasionally.

After they sang "Brokedown Palace," I said to the Persuasions, "I have loved
that song for nearly 30 years, but I've never loved it as much as I do right
now."  Just beautiful.

I went out to get coffee for everybody, and while we were hanging in the
lobby (again, surrounded by energetic little kids and their stroller-toting
parents), we yakked about this and that.  When I told them I was playing a
gig in Brooklyn tonight, they asked me if I do any of these songs.  "Yes, I
do," I replied.  "In fact, 'Brokedown Palace' is one of my favorites.'"  The
next thing I knew, we were back in the rehearsal room and I was singing
"Brokedown Palace" with all five Persuasions backing me up and Jerry Lawson's
eyes locked on mine, as if he were reaching through to extract the essence of
my knowledge and phrasing of the song.

It was an ecstatic experience, and I'm still pumped about it more than an
hour later.
  

    


Saturday, May 20, 2000, 4:00 pm, Landis Store PA

I am parked outside the Enchanted Cottage B&B, a mile or so away from the Hex
Hollow Music Festival.  I walked around a bit but I am not sure which
building is the "office," nor does there seem to be a soul on the premises.
So I'm sitting outside on this damp chilly afternoon, listening to the birds
and looking around at this charming forest hillside.

It would be nice to check in and lie down for a while.  I've been on the road
for more than four hours, since taking a wrong turn that cost me a good 40
minutes getting out of Brooklyn.  The rest of the trip was uneventful, and
delightfully scenic once I got off the Interstate just west of Allentown.



11:00 pm

So a little over 24 hours after I sang with the Persuasions, there I was in a
cabin outside of Barto, Pennsylvania, working up a couple of songs with the
great bluegrass fiddler Vassar Clements.




12:15 am

Vassar and I are sharing a romantic cottage.  The Enchanted Cottage, to be
precise, in Boyertown, Pennsylvania.  He got here first and claimed the
upstairs bedroom, so I am sleeping on a folding bed downstairs.  I have the
fireplace, he has the bathroom.

I left Hexfest not long after my set, because I have been wanting to relax
for DAYS.  Vassar was playing yet another set as I was leaving.  He got here
an hour or so ago, delivered by his friends from Philadelphia.  We all sat
around shooting the shit for a while, trading travel nightmares and other
road tales, talking about the mixed blessing of Deadhead audiences (too
often, they respond _only_ to Garcia-blessed material and wander off if you
try to do anything else).

I was surprised to learn that Vassar agreed to come to this gig knowing only
that he would be playing with: me.  Hell, *I* didn't know for sure that I was
ging to be playing with him, although the festival organizer did say all
along that he expected us to jam.  But according to Vassar, his
daughter/booking agent accepted the gig on the basis of my participation.
"She knows who I am?" I asked.  "Sure," he replied.  "You met Midge at
MagnoliaFest."  That explains why he was so glad to see me when I arrived at
the cabin that serves as the green room next to the coved but not
weatherproof Hexfest stage.  I didn't expect him to remember me from our
encounters on the Suwannee.

The shack is also Steve Walker's shop, Hex Hollow Music, so I just grabbed a
guitar off a stand and we went to work.  I had played "Panama Red" in
Brooklyn last night, so we ran through that and then "Midnight Moonlight."  I
gotta say, it was a thrill to be playing guitar and watching those fingers on
that fiddle a foot away!

What I had had in mind was having him join me in my set, but Vassar insisted
I come along when he took the stage with the impromptu bluegrass band that
Steve Walker had organzed to back him: The Hex Hollow Rounders.  It was damn
cold out there, and we all had a hard time pickin', but it was fun anyway.
The repertoire was O&ITW, of course, with a few other Bill Monroe items
thrown in.   I played along and sang harmony on their programmed list of
stuff, and threw in the two Rowan songs I had run through with Vassar at
appropriate moments.  Steve Walker said, "We should know better than to try
sticking to the set list when David Gans is on stage" -- referring to the
last Hexfest, when I called several audibles while sitting in with Born
Cross-Eyed.  "They call me 'The Hijacker,'" I growled ino the mic.

The whole thing had the feel of a minor debacle to me, with some tuning
issues, disagreements about the downbeat and vocal mishaps.  But when I
muttered an apology to Vassar at the end of the set, he pooh-poohed me and
said I had been a great help.  I can see how he would have seen it that way:
I at least had the presence of mind to shift my vocal line to an unoccupied
part, etc., laid back instead of grabbing solos, etc.

After this jam, we decided that they'd set up the electric band that was to
follow me before I started my solo set.

Steve's wife, Jennifer, had asked me to play "Rubin and Cherise," and that
was as good a place as any to start.  t was clear that this was one of those
Dead-only crowds, though I wrestled with 'em a little.  I did "Down to
Eugene" and "River and Drown," and the "Terrapin-> Mason-> Attics" sequence,
reaching past the incredibly rowdy kids in front to address my emotions to
the more civilized listeners in the middle distance.  "Normal" got a decent
reaction.

While I was playing "Pancho and Lefty," Kris Kehr, who was part of the ad-hoc
Vassar band, stepped up with his mandolin.  I had to yell at the sound guy in
mid-song to get Chris turned up, but something happened when he joined in
that made the entire experience more pleasurable for me.  We went on to play
"Me and Bobby McGee" and "Ripple" together, with good (relatively) audience
response, and then I sent him away and started "Black Peter," which went into
"Blue Roses."

And the guy who had started yelling for "Henry" during Vassar's set was still
screaming for it when I left the stage.

This scene is depressing on a certain level. As Vassar and I were discussing
with his civilian friends a little while ago, these festivals are a tradeoff:
you often get paid better, but the audiences are often inferior. The festival
is sometimes the attraction -- camping facilitates heavy drug consumption
(beer, nitrous, psychedelics) -- and the music winds up taking a back seat.
So it's often a less-than-optimal experience for a musician who would prefer
to connect with an audience.

Still, I was the second most famous guy on the bill, according to the
promoter, and the money is decent.  And the setting, stumbling balloon-bibers
notwithstanding, is lovely.  This is a step on the career path.  I was
invited here to play and sing, and I damn well played and sang damn well.
  

    

(now linked from inkwell.vue 51 to point.vue 12)
  

    

After returning home from the May tour, I went into the studio with The
Persuasions <http://www.thepersuasions.com> to help them with a CD of
Grateful Dead songs.  "Might As Well: The Persuasions Sing Grateful Dead"
will be released October 10 on Grateful Dead Records (distributed by Arista).

There a many session photos, and links to four wonderful columns by Jon
Carroll, at <http://www.trufun.com/persuasions>.

I am reserving my diary of those sessions for online publication in the fall,
when it will help the CD.

Also in the news is the impending (August 8) release of "Stolen Roses: Songs
of the Grateful Dead," featuring covers of Dead originals by Bob Dylan, the
Patti Smith Band, the David Grisman Quintet, Widespread Panic, Elvis
Costello, The Persuasions, the Stanford Marching Band, and others.  More info
(and a peek at the cover art) at <http://www.trufun.com/stolenroses>
  

    

Sunday, July 9, 2000

From DeadNet Central:

 dh - 11:05pm Jul 7, 2000 PDT (#275 of 276)
 time will tell who has fell and who's been left behind...

 Just got back from an evening seeing David Gans at the Heartland
 Cafe.  Went with a couple friends and had dinner with David and about
 15 other people before the show and had a nice chat with him.  He is
 quite comfortable and friendly.  He started things off in a tradition
 that I am quite fond of myself taking requests from the audience.  He
 played just about every request that was called out for too.  By
 letting his surroundings determine his setlist, it builds to the
 inspiration factor and provided a very worthy performance of some very
 inspired material.  It was clear that David was just having fun and
 that we were along for the ride.  The first song he played was the riff
 from Freight Train by Elizabeth Cotten because of a request for a train
 song.  He is quite a talented finger picker.  After an original I am
 not familiar with he played a Ripple someone from the audience had
 requested.

 Then came the biggest crowd pleaser of the evening a new song that
 might be titled Going to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead.  This is a
 fun song and judging from it, it seems to me that David is clearly a
 deadhead.  It was really when someone requested the Cat Stevens song
 that he seemed to find the zone.  The version of Father and Son really
 was great (I mean I was kinda moved) and then into a Broken Arrow.  The
 transitions that he was making were very entertaining and the setlist
 was inspired. Another funny little original number was called get
 normal for a change and it had a very cool Jorma sounding delta bluesy
 finger picking.  The Terrapin> Mason's Children and the Ship of Fools>
 Brokedown Palace were also very cool transitions.  David Gans
 definately knows the cool songs to play and plays them in a cool
 inspired manner.  Check him out if you get the opportunity.


Chicago was a pleasant homecoming, with more than a dozen friends from
various context gathering for dinner beforehand and a nicely full room
for the duration of the show.  Since I got back from my May tour I've
been so far away from my own music, and yet still very much involved in
music, that I wondered how readily I'd fall back into the groove. It
wasn't a problem.  As Doug Hagman reported in his post on DeadNet, I
was relaxed and comfortable and very much at home on that stage.

Requests were plentiful and lots of fun.  Responding to a request from
Dave Waite on behalf of his new fiancee, I did a bit of "Take Me Home,
Country Roads."  That didn't really work for me, so after the second
verse I just rolled right into "Ship of Fools."  In the midle of that I
segued into "Brokedown Palace," vaguely planning to return to "Ship of
Fools -- but "Brokedown" starts in G and shifts into F, so duh.

There was a request for "Longer Boats," too, and I started it but it
sounded really silly to me.  So I moved into "Father and Son," which I
had played for some small group of people at home recently.  It felt
good to sing it on that occasion, and whoever it was I was playing for
said I should add it to my repertoire.  I don't think I'[m going to do
it that often, but it was fun and I still know how to inhabit those two
characters.

Michael has bought a new sound system since I was there last.  It took
us a little while to get it figured out, but eventually we did, and I
had a nice clear monitor all night.

Michael James asked me to appear on his radio show Saturday morning, so
with only about five hours' sleep I got up and croaked my way through
"Ripple" (Michael's request from the night before) and "Waltzing Across
Texas" in between two talking-head guests.  Michael called me back at
the very end, and I craced everybody up with "Normal."

From there I hit the road, short on sleep but concerned about road
construction on I-55.  There were three diifferent construction zones,
but only the first one presented any significant delays.  I got to St.
Louis a little after 4:00 and found Cicero's in a bustling district
with a Starbuck's, a smoothie place, a major used-record store, and
many other inviting businesses.  I parked, got myself a coffee, and
wandered around a little before heading into Cicero's.

The show room is smallish, with a fantastic music-themed triptych on
one long wall and another similar painting by the same artist on the
back wall behind the sound booth.  Very busy restaurant/bar with a pool
room and a double-door entry to the show rom.  First time I've ever
played a club with an air lock.

The crowd was sparse with Sean Canan took the stage with his acoustic
guitar and a compact but versatile digital looping device.  He played
some original stuff and several covers, including a raucous "Scarlet
Begonias" and an annoying version of "Me annd My Uncle" that seeded up
and slowed down and didn't do justice to the dominant chord near the
end of each verse.  Sean would lay down a pattern, loop it in the
sampler, and then add another percussive thing ether by tapping the
guitar or doing mouth percussion.  Then he'd add a bass-like line.
Once he got all this stuff stacked up, he proceeded to play some pretty
unineresting melodic guitar over it. I found teh whole thing intriguing
at first, but it all wound up sounding pretty similar from song to song
after a while, and the technique meant nothing with such unintelligible
vocals and unoriginal soloing.

We did a nice "Bird Song" together in sound check, and I brought him up
near the end of my set for an even better one in the show proper.

The plan was for me to start pretty late in hopes of catching some
people after the Lesh/Dylan show at Riverport.  The club offered 50%
off if you brought your Phylan stub in, and it worked: 15 people came
in that way.  But they didn't start arriving until after 12:30, and to
my great surprise there's a 1:00 am curfew here and the lights went up
at 1:00 sharp.  I played two more songs, inviting Sean Canan up to
overplay and overpower "Ripple" to close.  My WELL friends arrived just
in time for the last number, missing "Down to Eugene," which I had been
saving.

The sound system was excellent, and I felt very comfortable and in
command all through my 75-minute set. Good monitors, attentive and
mostly quiet crowd - I was able to keep stuff like "Stella Blue" very
quiet and subtle.  The Deadhead contingent was strong, but I never felt
pressured to stick with GD material.

The management seemed happy with my performance while being
disappointed in the turnout. This is a much more appropriate venue for
me than the Off Broadway, and I think I'll be invited back on a night
when I have less formidable competition.
  

    




GANS GIGS for early October:


Friday, October 6: WNCW Mountain Oasis Music Festival at Deerfield's Retreat,
112 Watagnee Trail, Horseshoe Trail (near Hendersonville) NC.  Also appearing
over the weekend: Dark Star Orchestra, Donna the Buffalo, Bela Fleck and the
Flecktones, Jim Lauderdale, Robert Earl Keene, and many more. 865-523-2665.
The festival runs October 6-8.  More info at
http://www.concertwire.com/wncw/festival.html


Sunday, October 8: HarvestFest, 5400 West Teal Road, Fairburn GA.  Peter
Rowan, Vassar Clements, Guy Clark, Donna the Buffalo, Blueground Undergrass,
and many more.  DG plays around noon. 404-284-3841.  The festival runs
October 6-8.  More info at http://www.harvestfest2000.com


Wednesday, October 18, 8pm: Might as Well Wake the Dead:  CD release party
for The Persuasions (Might as Well: The Persuasions Sing Grateful Dead) and
Wake the Dead! (DG co-produced the Persuasions CD and will be part of the
musical presentation.) Bimbo's 365 Club, 1025 Columbus Avenue, San Francisco
CA. 415: 474-0365. Tickets available via Ticketweb.  More info at
http://www.trufun.com/persuasions



Coming up: FLORIDA in late October, and a southwest/California tour with the
Dark Star Orchestra in early November.  Details to come.
  

    
Wow.
  

    
Very cool.
  

    
So, no tour of New England in the dead of winter?
  

    

oooh Bimbo's 365 club is a great venue!
  

    
New England afgter the thaw, I hope.
  

    
I know some of David's diary-making involves being a little behind the day's
events.  Sometime it would be interesting to talk about the delayed diary as
a form... i have a hunch it offers some interesting advantages.

But after going to the Persuasions CD release party I can't bear to wait.
Gotta post right now that it was a spectacular and heartwarming event.  It
will forever change Bimbo's for me, from an amusing retro place where part
of my mind is always making up satiric or campy events which would suit 
the 50s-60s luxurious lounge decor into a magical place where the 
memory of the Persuasions & all will hang in the atmosphere.  

The Celtic band was good fun, and some of the audience members were in
awe of the female vocalist, in particular.  Having Mary Schmary sing with
the Persuasions was delicious, and the kind of transcendant dance energy
the Persuasions created on most of those songs with no percussion (or mouth
percussion) was something to see. Self-generating contact-high all around! 
 
The samples up at Amazon for the CD sales can't give the wonderful
change and repetition which takes place during each song, but the title
cut sample is still such a fine snipit that it just might turn up on 
answering machine greetings.  

From my not-a-serious-deadhead vantage point, this is a Good Thing you have
done, David, for the Persuasions, for people who love the Dead, for people
who would love the lyrics but never felt grabbed by the overall sound or
singing of the band.  David, are you able to let this sink in, or is your
own touring taking center stage in your life?
  

    
This was a watershed event for me, too. I strongly recommend the CD, too.
  

    
One for the ages. Every listen reveals a new "center", like rotating,
zooming in and out of a really good fractal image. There's a lot of
depth revealed in the simplicity.
  

    

>David, are you able to let this sink in, or is your
 own touring taking center stage in your life?

The morning after the Bimbo's show, I hit the froad for my own tour.  I have
been in Florida for three days, playing solo and with lots of other
musicians, having a grand time.

But in between, I'm reading WELL postings and DeadNet Central traffic about
how much people like the Persuasions CD.  And the guys are hitting the road
with Ratdog in a couple of days.  I think this is a great hting for Ratdog
(whose new CD is really, really good) and the Persuasions -- and for the
Deadheads (and even non-Deadheads) who are open-min ded enough to check 'em
out.

I'm thrilled with the reception the CD is getting!
  

    
It's number 60 at Amazon today, BTW. Pretty hot, David.