So, as my wife well knows about me, every so often, I have me a little epiphany! The daylight bursts through the clouds, and for a moment, I get it. Well, I'm here to tell you folks, last night I got it!
I was one of the privileged few to attend the Jason and the Scorchers reunion show at the Exit In in Nash-vegas, or as I like to call it, the Mother Land. And this wasn't just the reunion of the old lineup, it was a special night. Drummer Perry Baggs (pictured above) has been waging a brave fight against kidney failure and diabetes. His medical bills have been mounting, so in order to help defray these costs, a number of small benefits around the region were planned. The Scorchers show sold out in roughly half a day. Luckily, my brother had the foresight to call and get us all tickets 5 minutes after getting the email about the show from me. I feel privileged not only because the Scorchers are one of my favorite bands (and one of the handful of truly inspiring live rock and roll acts EVER) and not only because I was able, in a small way, to help Perry pay his bills, but I feel that I was part of a truly remarkable event last night. This was no ordinary rock show, nor even an ordinary Scorchers show (which is ANYTHING but ordinary in and of itself). No, something else happened. It was one of those times when I felt that there is indeed some good and light in the world. Everyone in that room was there to help a man in dire straits, not just in a financial way, but in what I believe was a spiritual way. At least ten times though out the evening the audience loudly chanted, not the BAND'S name, but the name PERRY! There was a constant showering of love, goodwill and appreciation for all his years of fine work. I wish you all could've been there to witness the effect it had on this man. The look on his face of absolute bliss and humility and thanks and love upon hearing the crowds reaction to what may well have been his last entrance to the stage was something to behold. In this horribly superficial world we live in, it was a moment of genuine depth, and it moved me in a way that I shall never forget.
I was one of the privileged few to attend the Jason and the Scorchers reunion show at the Exit In in Nash-vegas, or as I like to call it, the Mother Land. And this wasn't just the reunion of the old lineup, it was a special night. Drummer Perry Baggs (pictured above) has been waging a brave fight against kidney failure and diabetes. His medical bills have been mounting, so in order to help defray these costs, a number of small benefits around the region were planned. The Scorchers show sold out in roughly half a day. Luckily, my brother had the foresight to call and get us all tickets 5 minutes after getting the email about the show from me. I feel privileged not only because the Scorchers are one of my favorite bands (and one of the handful of truly inspiring live rock and roll acts EVER) and not only because I was able, in a small way, to help Perry pay his bills, but I feel that I was part of a truly remarkable event last night. This was no ordinary rock show, nor even an ordinary Scorchers show (which is ANYTHING but ordinary in and of itself). No, something else happened. It was one of those times when I felt that there is indeed some good and light in the world. Everyone in that room was there to help a man in dire straits, not just in a financial way, but in what I believe was a spiritual way. At least ten times though out the evening the audience loudly chanted, not the BAND'S name, but the name PERRY! There was a constant showering of love, goodwill and appreciation for all his years of fine work. I wish you all could've been there to witness the effect it had on this man. The look on his face of absolute bliss and humility and thanks and love upon hearing the crowds reaction to what may well have been his last entrance to the stage was something to behold. In this horribly superficial world we live in, it was a moment of genuine depth, and it moved me in a way that I shall never forget.
Then there was the show itself. These men who took the stage had not played together for a good while (in the case of two former members of the band who joined in the 2nd set, fifteen years! ) and there were times it showed. Glitches aplenty, dropped lyrics, missed guitar licks, etc. But for every bum note, there were 50 sublime moments. Warner Hodges guitar work in particular (check out his myspace page in my links section) was at times some of the most fierce, passionate playing I have ever witnessed. And I've seen damn near every living guitar god there is folks. Last night, not a one them would've gotten close to him. It was obvious that he, singer Jason Ringenberg and the rest of these men were playing as though their lives, and quite possibly the life of their friend, depended on it. And I promise you, if passion could cure what physically ails us, there would've been a world of healing going on in that club last night. And to watch these men,every one of them pushing 50,play for over 3 hours, pushing their aging bodies to the limit (on more than one occasion I thought someone might just keel over from sheer exhaustion) was, to say the least, inspiring. Perry himself was perhaps the most inspiring of all. He played his drum kit with all the fire and passion he did 25 years ago when I saw the bands first gig (New Years eve at a little dive in the boro called KO's- I snuck in on with my brothers license. Ah, those were the days!). He had to come off every second or third number and rest, turning the drum kit over to the Scorchers current drummer (and KY resident Fenner Castner), often times to weak to even descend from the drum riser without a hand from Warner or Jason. It reminded me not only of the strength of the human will, but also how vitally important art can be to someone. This man was willing to literally torture his body to play for this crowd. That, in itself, speaks volumes. And it made me realize something, that of course I already know. So I suppose it merely illuminated it for again. Our lives exist right here, and right now. In the moment. Ultimately, that's what it all comes down to. I'm not suggesting we shouldn't revere the past, nor keep an eye on the future. Those things are vital as well. But to truly be able to live in, and FOR, the moment is a gift of the highest order. Last night, I was reminded of that fact. I'll try not to forget it quite so quickly next time.
So yeah, it was a pretty heavy evening for me, but one filled with sheer joy and goodwill. Unfortunately, all those of you who weren't there have in evidence are the rambling postings of a man working on about 2 hours of sleep. Suffice it to say that in the future, whenever I'm engaged in a theological discussion and someone asks me to point to evidence of God, I'll just tell 'em all about Perry's benefit.
If you'd like to contribute to Perry' s medical fund, follow this link:
And now for the question du joir... what's the most moving artistic experience you've ever been involved in? Rock me, Amadeus...
7 comments:
did jeff ever come out to play bass?
Nah..he didn't show. Ken and Andy from the THUNDER/FIRE lineup did, as did our boy Dan Baird and Ken McMahan from the DUSTERS.Webb Wilder and Toddzilla were hanging out backstage, but they didn't come out to play.
Oh, and Jim Ridley hung with us at the show! Cool to see him...wish you coulda been there, man.
Damn...did I scare everyone off??
Tim you haven't scared me off...I've seen a lot of plays that moved me, but your description seemed so profound, it's somewhat of a daunting question.
I can't really think of things I was actually involved as a performer that consistently moved me night after night. Usually after working on something in rehearsal and going out and performing it night after night, the mystique is gone. There may be nights that are incandescent and magical, but they are isolated moments.
I guess the most moving artistic experience that I had was as part of an audience at the memorial service for Miklos Rozsa.
Rosza was, for my money, the greatest film composer ever and also just a great composer of classical music. He wrote the scores to such films as BEN-HUR (an Oscar), SPELLBOUND, LOST WEEKEND (an Oscar),A DOUBLE LIFE (an Oscar) DOUBLE INDEMNITY, EL CID, THIEF OF BAGHDAD, PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (my favourite), PROVIDENCE (another Favourite), THE GOLDEN VOYAGE OF SINBAD, IVANHOE, JULIUS CAESAR, KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE, TIME AFTER TIME...and many many more. Over a hundred films. He won three Oscars and received eighteen nominations.
His music has always been inspiring to me. I've written many a screenplay to his work. When he died, I read there was to be a memorial service and I wanted to attend to pay my respects and honour this great, great man.
So I called my pal, film historian, Rudy Behlmer (author of Memo: from David Selnick; Films of Errol Flynn; Inside Warner Bros.) who I knew would be attending. Rudy is the white-haired gentleman you see a lot on TCM and Warner/MGM Dvds doling out great historical anecdotes about classic films.
Anyway, Rudy called Tony Thomas, another film historian and Rozsa aficianado (he had done liner notes on a lot of Rozsa albums) who was running the memorial service, and arranged for me to attend.
Julieanne and I arrived at the Bel-Air Hotel promptly at 11:00 o' clock which I mistakenly thought was the time. I was wrong. The affair started at one. So we went to the Sunday Champagne brunch the hotel was having.
So by one o'clock, already blissful on bubbles and eggs benedict, we wandered into the memorial service, meeting Dr. Rozsa's children and other film and music illuminaries. Composer Jerry Goldsmith was there. I knew Jerry slightly because I had lobbied hard for him to do the score for DRAGONHEART and he had wanted to do it. Unfortunately, the director had other ideas. Jerry reiterated to me how much he had loved the script and then introduced me to John Mauceri, conductor of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, and fabled composer David Raskin (LAURA). These gentlemen and other notables spoke glowingly and movingly of Dr. Rosza. We sat with the Behlmers and an Englishman who was truly Rozsa's greatest fan and had flown in for the "Remembrance", as it was called. It was electric sitting among musicians, composers, film people...all who had been influenced by or just admired this remarkable man's work and listening to them share their memories and extoll his music.
But the capper was, of course, the musical interludes themselves...the exquisite, soaring, glorious music. There were violin concertos, piano pieces, guitar pieces, all played live by wonderful musicians. By the time Mauceri played a piece from THIEF OF BAGHDAD that had been recorded by the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, but had not yet been released, I was in a puddle.
I could, I suppose, blame it on the champagne and the further libation at the service...but it was really the magnificent Rozsa and his divine, soul-stirring music.
It was not only my most moving artistic experience; it was also probably my single best day in Hollywood.
There you go Chuck !!! Way to kick us off. Sounds like it must have been a wonderful experience.
Well, X, I tried...doesn't seem like the juggernaut is snowballing.
Yeah...I guess we can't expect 40 responses every time...oh well.
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