Category: Smokin’ & Cryin’ (page 1 of 4)

“Ty Odette” – Demo – Smokin’ & Cryin’

Author’s note

I’m serializing the first 10% of Smokin’ & Cryin’ here on my blog. It’s the story of a young American rock band set in the early 1970s. Please feel free to share this with your friends.

Overture is the first installment. This post is #13 and the final installment in the series.

 

Chapter 5 – Demo (part 1)

We were bushed after closing out a three-night stand at the Crash & Burn, which was either the best or worst biker bar in Arkansas, depending on how you look at it. Knife fights, cat fights, you name it, they’d fight it, or fight over it.

Stupidly, I’d jumped into a brawl erupting on the dance floor to yank a big dude off a girl who couldn’t have been more than 13. She managed to get away, but he pinned me under one sweaty ham of an arm. Arthur ditched the stage to get the guy off me. Then Deuce dove in, throwing punches at all comers. We barely got out of that place with our lives. Continue reading

“Studio D” – Demo – Smokin’ & Cryin’

Author’s note

I’m serializing the first 10% of Smokin’ & Cryin’ here on my blog. It’s the story of a young American rock band set in the early 1970s. Please feel free to share this with your friends.

Overture is the first installment. This post is #12 in the series.

 

Chapter 5 – Demo (part 1)

A month later we had to drive to Detroit because Perry was tapped for session work by one of my favorite acts, The Odette Brothers Band. I was psyched to meet them, but it turned out they were off touring somewhere. They wanted him to put a few bass tracks down at Studio D because some recordings got botched at their private recording digs in Georgia. Continue reading

“French fries”- Econoline – Smokin’ & Cryin’

Author’s note

I’m serializing the first 10% of Smokin’ & Cryin’ here on my blog. It’s the story of a young American rock band set in the early 1970s. Please feel free to share this with your friends.

Overture is the first installment. This post is #11 in the series.

 

Chapter 4 -Econoline continued (part 4)

We were playing a two-nighter at this dive bar in the middle of a cornfield. Outdoor platform, concrete dance floor, cyclone fence to keep the riff-raff corralled, and beer served in half-gallon cartons. Those animals boogied down on top of the picnic tables. We showed them a good time, and because the mood felt right, slipped a few of our originals into each set. We did Purple Love Grass, a favorite of mine, along with Arthur’s bluesy reworking of Little Stranger. Those midwestern barflies danced their butts off no matter what we played. Continue reading

“Ohio Turnpike” – Econoline – Smokin’ & Cryin’

Author’s note

I’m serializing the first 10% of Smokin’ & Cryin’ here on my blog. It’s the story of a young American rock band set in the early 1970s. Please feel free to share this with your friends.

Overture is the first installment. This post is #10 in the series.

 

Chapter 4 -Econoline continued (part 3)

Arthur made up a driving roster to end the arguments over who was riding up front. I did whenever Arthur drove, and, after I got my driving permit, Waverly rode up front when I drove. He was laid back enough to deal with a new driver.

Perry took the biggest cut of whatever we had left over after expenses. On top of that, we contributed 10% of our earnings toward the Hammond B3 fund. It was all about keeping Studio Perry happy. We paid Deuce to manage us and paid him rent on the P.A. system. Arthur, Waverly, and I split the remaining chump change. I spent mine on guitar strings, truck stop coin showers, food, and chewing gum. Sometimes I had a dime to spare on a pinball machine. Continue reading

“Fear flu” Econoline – Smokin’ & Cryin’

Author’s note

I’m serializing the first 10% of Smokin’ & Cryin’ here on my blog. It’s the story of a young American rock band set in the early 1970s. Please feel free to share this with your friends.

Overture is the first installment. This post is #9 in the series.

 

Chapter 4 -Econoline continued (part 2)

Deuce booked us at a bar in a paper mill town that stunk like ten thousand bean farts. The minuscule stage was crammed into a back corner. With the P.A. system wedged in, we were stepping all over each other. Perry’s bass headstock was under my nose, and I knocked over Waverly’s high hat at least three times. Fed up, he hauled it out to the equipment trailer during a set break—and caught me puking in the alley. Continue reading

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