It was the Summer of 1967, and I was 13. I was studying jazz guitar with a teacher named Pete Haskell–Pete had a little dark cubby hole of a teaching room at the Howie Everett Guitar Studios, in Hamburg, New York. (15 miles South of Buffalo, around Lake Erie) ( on U.S. Highway 62– a road that runs across America from El Paso, Texas, to Lubbock, the, through Okemah and all the way to New York City. subject of a song and future post) Pete was about 30, a jazzman, wore sharkskin suits, zipper boots with cuban heels, had his black curly hair slicked back, and wore shades indoors, which he peered over when he played particularly pungent, far-out chords on his fat Gibson hollow-body electric jazz guitar. He was looking to make sure I got it, like he was having a logical musical conversation, wordlessly, and he wanted to see if I got the punchline. “Dig this!’ he’d say with his eyes. The chords continued like an argument quietly but insistantly pursued, late at night, between two junkies in the dark. He’d hit the chord: and then, give me the look.
Dig it.
He was teaching me, a thirteen year old kid, to play ‘Violets For Your Furs’, a standard I had never heard before. It was over my head. I thought I wanted to play jazz, but was beginning to see, I just had to rock…
while circulating in a neighborhood on streets that also had an ‘above water level + beneath water ‘ component –+ similar to the feel of streets in Santa Monica neighborhood near gilberts el indio– Im pursued by “fantasm”– threatening my life–Dave Alvin too–is pursued or pursues, I dont know–I throw my self into it again– to get away or maybe–to die. In an apartment department store of several stories–escalator + gears, circulation of crowds–a party trick of an idea but also more serious–deadly: of a ‘trick’ or ‘fantasm’ that could not be eluded or caught that guarantees outcomes. You can trust yourself to it–almost ‘floating’ on the odds–the circulation–whatever is going to happen WILL–and this over the course of the circulations + travels throughout the building– A thought of suicide?–or death but it is eluded “you got to trust’–so I throw myself onto it on a top floor and am carried away down the ‘escalator’–in a crowd + buoyed up–lifted–I won’t be killed by this–its almost like a ‘mirror’: whatever you want to happen, will, but thats not it either.
Tuesday, back in the “Workaday World”… song workshops again, at McCabes, starting tonight, and Saturday afternoon. Getting ready for the tour with my Nerves pal Paul Collins, (with a band, nationwide) in March and April. Got some solo shows in Canada late February. The new book, ‘Epistolary Rex’ continues to sell (available at the site store.) A new Plimsouls live, from the Golden Bear in Huntington Beach, August 1983, is coming in February on Alive/Naturalsound Records, the title is ‘Beach Town Confidential’ and its a good one, I’m quite proud of it.
Also, the live album recorded at McCabes, from the shows December 2 and 3, will soon be mixed, and should be released by the fall, at the latest.
Tom Weber’s film ‘Troubadour Blues’ (featuring me, Chris Smither, Dave Alvin, Mary Gauthier, and Slaid Cleaves) is out making the rounds of theater showings, but the DVD is available here at the site! Much behind the scenes info of yours truly, and the rest of the gang. Tom did a great job on this, it’s getting a great response, I hope you check it out.
Digging Ed Sanders new book, “Fug You’ a history of the Peace Eye bookstrore, fabulous like all of his work.
While rummaging through keepsakes, etc… I found an essay I wrote denouncing ” Corporate Thieves’ and comparing them, negatively, to street thieves. It sounds exactly like a press release for the Occupy Movement. Funny thing is, I wrote this in 1971… when I was 16 or 17. Maybe I’ll print it here.
Maybe a tour of the UK and Europe in May waiting for confirmations, etc…
Work, work, work… it’s good for you!
Here comes another year, there goes 2011.
There were a lot of great gigs on the road, I was out there about 110 days, 95 or so shows… saw old friends, made new ones, in the US, the UK, The Netherlands, Spain, Belgium, and Canada. I recorded a live album at McCabes, mixed a live Plimsouls (1983 at the Golden Bear, in Huntington Beach, CA) (coming in February on Alive/Naturalsound Records,) wrote: songs with my Belgian friend, singer Eva De Roovere, a book (Epistolary Rex, available now at the website store) with my Texan friend David Ensminger, and a science fiction novel (Crimbot’s Hammer, available, when?)
After all those days on the road its great to be back home in California, waking up in nearly the same place everyday for a month or two! I’ll be writing, leading two different continuing song workshops at McCabes, and getting ready for the tour with my old Nerves buddy Paul Collins, which hits the boards late February, for a national tour, starting in Seattle. We’ll be doing songs by the Nerves, the Breakaways, the Beat and the Plimsouls, with a band. I’m really looking forward to it!
I lost two great friends of mine this year: singer/sogwriter Bill Morrissey, and my old friend Jon Duffett, one of my music partners and co-writers in the late 60’s. Heartbreaking, both of these deaths, they came too soon. My sympathies go out to their families.
A lot of other heavy things went down, I can’t go into all of it now.
But, “in the face of all that’s apparent” (thanks for that line, Joey Alkes) I’m trying to keep the energy growing, the inspiration flowing with the seeds I’m sowing, gotta keep blowin! And that’s what I’m knowin’…
etc.
Happy New Year gang! I hope to visit you out there and play some music for you!
That’s what I’m here for…
I want to thank everyone who came out and dug the shows in 2011!
Hang in there, gang!
God bless the Occupy Movement!
Onward and upward, and, in other words, ‘EXCELSIOR!’
The year had wound out magnificently, days dropping off like chunks of liquor store ice, into the big muddy river of time, drifting away and melting in the raging currents.
I was down at Market and Powell wearing ragged winter hand-me-downs, looking for a place to set my case amidst another streaming current, the Xmas shoppers pushing and stomping their way to the next shop, for the next item on their list, past the ringing Salvation Army trio, and the finger pointing psycho-preacher at the cable car turn around.
‘ You! Will! Burrrrrnnnnn!’ he screamed looking right at me… I looked away and kept walking… same to you, pal, fuck off!
It was cold, wet, not raining anymore, but it had been pouring an hour ago. Already getting dark and the day had just begun. I was alone, had 25 cents left from yesterday’s busk session… didn’t know where Johnny’d been lately, hadn’t seen him since he took off to Hayward with Nicole. It’d been a bout a week. Bert’d been scarce lately as well, he’d been somewhere with his Swedish girl. I had no idea how he was making it.
I hadn’t eaten all day. I figured something would turn up, so I turned right up Powell and walked as fast as I could up to Union Square, set down my case at the entrance to the square, on the corner, and started singing and playing Sleepy John Estes’, ‘Broke and Hungry’, bangin’ the snaky riff over and over on my Yamaki deluxe.
A few people tossed quarters as they hurried past, and two wino’s, sitting on a wall farther back in the park, looked up, did a slow double take, then started ambling my way. They’d been sharing a bottle of Night Train Express, but it was all gone now. (Night Train’s beautiful label, of the locamotive blazing down a midnight rail!) They looked like they’d be glad to get their hands on a quarter or two.
My fingers were cramped from pressing down the metal strings in the cold, the case was open and bare, the couple of quarters I’d made so far could buy me a pork bun over in Chinatown, so I was considering quitting and making the long trudge through the Stockton tunnel over to North Beach, when here comes John.
John was an old time hippie from up in the Haight, I knew him from around town, he’d been here since before the ‘67 boom. John had long dirty blonde hair, big ragged side burns, was wearing a black stove pipe hat on his head, also an old fashioned long coat with tails against the chill, ragged jeans with piebald patches, and big worn out work boots. He was hauling a trumpet case, tho’, which was odd, as I’d always thought of him as a guitar player.
We greet each other in the gloom of the fading afternoon. ‘Hey Peter… what’s goin’ on, man? how you doin’ out here? Where’s Johnny? You feel like sittin’ in?’ He glanced in my empty case and got the picture.
‘Today should be a great day out here, man… let’s team up, go over to the turn around, we’ll be shovelling it in down there.’
I was glad to have a partner, so I picked up and we worked our way through the crowd, back down the couple of blocks, to the red bricks at Market.
‘Look, Peter… here’s the thing out here: you can’t play what you want to hear. You gotta play the song you hate the most. Name a song you hate, one you really can’t stand.’ I paused for a second and he said ‘you hate Alley Cat, don’t you? Most guys hate that one.’
I thought of the cornball Al Hirt standard that I kind of secretly liked: ‘yeah, I can’t stand that.’
‘Good’ he says. ‘Play along with me, and watch this.’
We started playing the cloying and cheesy Al Hirt hit, John taking the lead clumsily on the trumpet, me doing my best to back it with the proper orchestral chords.
We hadn’t been at it for 15 seconds when a passing women shopper threw a handful of change in the box. A man doubled back and put a dollar bill in the case. A small crowd started to gather. Some tourists took our picture, then come forward and put a twenty in the case. John stopped blowing horn for a second, and reached the sawbuck out of there and into his pocket for safe keeping.
We made 33 dollars in the first 15 minutes.
‘The secret, man, is, you gotta play the song you hate the most. That’s the one that makes the money. Let’s keep playing Alley Cat. You gotta keep goin’, past where you’re sick to death of it. Just keep goin’. Trust me.’
I believed him, and we kept playing. And playing. And playing. ’til I thought I was gonna lose my mind, that my fingers were gonna freeze and break…but the money was FLYING in to our case.
It was the best session for the money I’d ever seen out here.
We played ’til the traffic died, until this second-to-last-shopping-day-before-christmas was over, and when we finally packed up, we each pocketed nearly a hundred bucks, by far the best day I’d ever had busking.
We ran into Johnny just as we were closing up shop, he was back in the city, he’d come down here looking for me. He played ten minutes or so of Alley Cat with us, so he could make some dough too, and then we packed it up, and caught the N Judah streetcar up to the Haight. We got off after the tunnel, across from John’s Carl Street pad. We’d decided to celebrate for a while, first stopping at a liquor store, to get some supplies.
Once we got to John’s we all went into his little music room at the front of the house, sat around the piano with the little christmas tree on top, and for the rest of the night, we sang the songs we loved.
The McCabe’s shows were a gas. The recording went well, and now its nearly the end of the year and the end of the tour.
Not sure if anyone visits this site anymore. Has all the action gone over to fb?
I’ll be keeping up with writing here, after the tour closes shop for the winter.
Coming up in 2012: The “Peter Case and Paul Collins sing the Nerves, Breakaways, Beat and Plimsouls” tour, nationwide from late February to mid-April. Details soon.
Check out the store: We have a “buy two, get the third item free” Holiday Sale! Includes the new book, Epistolary Rex.
All the best, gang… I know the spam thing has slowed down responses here, but it’s still great to hear fro you!
PC
WE just had the opportunity to meet and hear Harry Belafonte. He was speaking in a small theater in Santa Monica, in connection with the release of his book, My Song. Denise gave a copy of her book Keep On Pushing. His story is amazing… read the book. There’s a DVD that I hear is great, Sing Your Song. I got to get a copy of that. He’s big-time inspirational. One of the greats…
December 2 & 3, 2011
8:00pm Santa Monica, CA
McCabe’s Guitar Shop
Special shows/ live recording
Get your tickets asap!
(310) 828-4497
www.mccabes.com
Hi folks. Been trying to activate things here at the blog but it’s very difficult when I’m on tour, and I’ve been touring a lot. Another problem is the spam onslaught, which has made it necessary to screen the comments, sorry gang for the delay this causes. I do try to get to every valid comment and post them asap. I miss the conversations we used to have here, don’t know if its still possible, but we can still try. I can approve comments from the road its just a little more delayed… I’ll do my best.
Coming up: gigs in Atlanta, Savannah, Louisville, Washington DC, Boston, Larchmont and New York City. Plus Bellows Falls. Check out the link for tour dates.
What’s been goin’ on? Any of you been involved with the Occupy gatherings?
Gigs have been going great, but I’m fairly knackered half the time… quite a schedule. Still, it’s been a gas!
New Plimsouls live record in the new year, also a tour with my old pal from the Nerves and Breakaways, Paul Collins. We’re doin a full Rock & Roll tour starting in March. Details soon!
Please check out the book, you may find it interesting, see a link is below.
Talk to you soon, friends…
Click here to check out Epistolary Rex
