not fadeaway

back in the good old days, when a decent interpersonal snarl was all in good fun, i used to camp out in any number of dark and smoky dens of iniquity to weekly dose myself with an historically amazing cavalcade of boston rockers. thursdays were 50 cent drafts at great scot, and party outfits like the trailers and the eleventh hour band were always a good time. but it still amazes me to recall that we could see the atlantics, del fuegos, lyres, outlets, mission of burma, human sexual response, real kids, neats, classic ruins, robin lane (with her chartbusters), neighborhoods, nervous eaters, willie alexander, angry young bees, etc. etc. etc. and enjoy all the beer we were pleased to drink for just a couple of bucks, all while standing right down in front with those beers in hand, getting blown away with the rest our friends, right directly in front of the marshall stacks. (if you're tempted to say "huh?" and "who?" to some of the preceding, maybe i should have added the cars, aimee mann, j geils and aerosmith in case you're too young, or if all you ever did was listen to "top 40" radio at the time...) these were some of the greatest musical experiences to be had anywhere on this planet since the 60's gave way disco.

but of all the bands and beauty of it all, there will always be a special place in my memory and heart for jon butcher axis. (props to chris martin and derek blevins). three guys, a rainbow array of fender strats lined up like the beers we were drinking from the bar, and two hours of the most infectuous, dance-inspiring rock and roll that's ever been my privilege to have poured into my ears. if you've never heard jon do holly's not fadeaway, i'd say you've only heard half the song. (no disrespect for buddy, for, as careful readers will know, he's to me the greatest of them all). we all thought we were actually there following cissy around (but NOOOOOOOO backstage pass...) with jon the way he told/sang it, and i'll always remember that "you can tune a piano, but you can't tunafish". (all those head muscles, still can't grow hair). you go, jon.

this friday and saturday night, in an homage to the old mohawk lounge, jon and charlie farren and a whole raft of those who were there will be lighting up the stage at the bull run in shirley. (how do i know? i just happened to run into one of the old drummers for the fools the other day--i think spinal tap got the spontaneous combustion joke right on musical drumming chairs--and we got to talking, but lets not digress too far...) it's amazing the power music has over us...

however, the fascinating part isn't always where we've been and who we've seen, but where others go once we've lost track of them. ever heard of the barefoot servants? dare you to go to their website and not stick around to take a sip of all the tasty musical teases there for our listening pleasure. i think to myself, twenty years of seasoning has done amazing things to jon's voice... and then i catch an eyeful of that beard... that inimitable, better-than-zztop's-ever-were BEARD... Leland Sklar. between nights soaking my head in the full ocean in motion, i think i literally wore holes in my running on empty lp. i saw lee with jt at harvard stadium. i caught i can't tell you how many bands for no better reason than they had the good sense to put lee and his buddy russ kunkel at the heart of what they were trying to do. (linda ronstadt's accountant will tell you the good sense in that). and there he is. him and jon. him and jon and ben shultz and neal wilkinson. him and music that leaps straight out of the earbuds and into my whole body, just like it always ever did.

not fadeaway