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You’re walking home from the London club, alone, wearing your favourite Topshop go-to boots and Bench heavy jacket. The lights were bright and sparkled like yellow diamonds. You love the feeling of euphoria; adrenaline rushing through your veins. You skip and jump around, expressing the emotion kept inside of you. You’re the happiest, luckiest and most beautiful girl in the world. And you’re assured of that. I’m living my life, you think, and seizing every moment.

As you make your way to the carpark, someone calls your name. You turn in the direction of the voice. You still haven’t come down to earth yet, and you’re still elated. You’re always elated. However, you don’t see anyone. You look around. Still nobody. You sigh, thinking that you were just imagining things.

You see a picture of him. Of the past. It’s not a replica or a imitation-it was really him.

You break down and cry.

*

Topshop pigskin boots, Bench military jacket, Union Jack tee, denim leggings

A band is built on three legs:

1. Art

2. Business

3. Friendship

The combination of art and business is nothing new: architecture, sculpture, writing, theatre, movies, dance, all have their business side. And there is a great deal of friendship between members especially in theatre and movies. Actors form very strong friendships which last for a lifetime in many cases.

The big difference with bands is the length and intensity of the friendships. Bands who stay together for years and years, like the Rolling Stones for example, have a lengthy history spanning 5 decades, (longer than most marriages today.) A band is a unique society which expands as the band gets bigger and more popular.

Bands usually fail because they are weak in one or more areas of these three legs. Each one is equally important which is why the three legged stool is such a good analogy: without the support of all three legs, the stool will tip.

Bands fail because their music (art) is not strong enough; they are not good businessmen and don’t understand or refuse to understand the business aspect of music; or because they just can’t get along and they fight until someone or everyone quits.

After playing in many bands and having many of them blow up in my face, I conclude it is easier to stay married with kids than it is to keep a band together. In marriage you only have two people to really deal with, the children just follow the parents. The children are never the deciding factor for divorce.

With a band you have 3, 4, 5 sometimes more people with different agendas, different ways of doing things, different viewpoints and different levels of commitment. For a band to succeed the commitment level must be very high for everyone. The work ethic is really necessary.

Book Review

It’s no secret that I love music so it goes without saying that I really enjoy reading autobiographies of musicians, and I’ve read quite a few.  But none has been as worthy of note, so brutally honest, poignant and impressive as Gregg Allman’s, who with the help of Alan Light, writes about his remarkable life in My Cross to Bear.

“No, I’m no angel
No I’m not stranger to the streets
I’ve got my label
So I won’t crumble at your feet
And I know baby
So I’ve got scars upon my cheek
And I’m half crazy
Come on and love me baby

No I’m no angel
No I’m no stranger to the dark
Let me rock your cradle
Let me start a fire with your spark
Oh come on baby
Come and let me show you my tattoo
Let me drive you crazy
Come on and love me baby”

The legendary front man for The Allman Brothers Band has lived a very hard yet rewarding life, filled with ecstasies and tragedies, and in My Cross to Bear he doesn’t sugar coat one single bit of it.  He allows us to see who Gregory really is, flaws and all, and I was so impressed by that.  Reading this book is like sitting down and listening to the man talk directly to you, leading you to believe that he considers you a friend.  I was so captivated by Gregory’s voice and humour that I have been experiencing a re-appreciation of his music that has left me with a little crush on this 64-year-old, long blonde-haired, tattooed man.

Gregory LeNoir Allman hails from Nashville, TN where he was born on December 8, 1947.  Since then he’s spent a large part of his life in Georgia which he calls home.  He’s a true southern gentleman and he writes with his own distinctive southern voice.  You can feel the heat in it, the whiskey, the cigarettes, along with sadness, joy, and hope that he’s still got time left to continue to work at being a better man and a better artist.

Gregory, as he’s known by his friends, is a rock and blues singer, keyboardist, guitarist and songwriter, and one of the founding members of The Allman Brothers Band – the band who founded Southern Rock.  Inducted with the band into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995, Gregory has received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Georgia Music Hall of Fame (2006), a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Americana Awards, and his idiosyncratic voice landed him at No. 70 of Rolling Stone’s “100 Greatest Singers of All Time”.  And he truly is.  His latest album, Low Country Blues, produced by T-Bone Burnett, is a masterpiece.

Gregory explores his fatherless youth (his dad was murdered by a hitchhiker), his stint in military school, the birth of his first bands, and the subsequent evolution of the revolving cast of players in The Allman Brothers.  He revisits the untimely and tragic motorcycle deaths of both his older brother, guitarist Duane Allman in 1971 and band mate, bassist Berry Oakley, a year later.  He is forthcoming about his alcohol and drug addictions including his many unsuccessful attempts at rehab – although he’s been sober since the mid-1990s – the band’s excessive drug use, his reputation for being a “pussy hound”, and his unabashed love for the Hammond B-3 organ.

The Ramblin’ Man also discusses the challenge of working with guitarist Dickey Betts, the highs and lows of touring, skirmishes with the law, and his critically acclaimed solo work.  He professes his love for his mother, his five children (Michael Sean Allman – whom he never met until Michael was a grown man – Devon Lane Allman, Elijah Blue Allman – who he confesses that he doesn’t know very well – Delilah Island Allman – who he describes as the light of his life, and Layla Brooklyn Allman), all of whom have a different mother, his friends, his dogs and Harley Davidson motorcycles.  The man has been married six times, most famously to Cher (1975-79) whom he still respects and gets along with.  Although he’s been tied to the whipping post many times, he doesn’t like to be alone.  He is now engaged to 24-year-old Shannon Williams, who he says will be his first wife.

Gregory, who doesn’t pretend to be anyone other than himself in his autobiography, has dabbled in acting and most notably appeared in the 1991 film Rush directed by Lili Fini Zanuck, starring Jason Patric, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Sam Elliott.  Although he had very little dialogue in the film, his presence made a huge impact on the story as he was absolutely perfect for the role of the drug dealing, criminal heavyweight, Gaines.  I love this movie and have watched it many times, enjoying all of the cast’s performances as well as its memorable soundtrack by Eric Clapton.

Allman has been battling a number of health issues in recent years and was diagnosed with Hepatitis C in late 2007, the result of an infection from a dirty tattoo needle.  In 2010 he had a liver transplant.  Through it all, he continues to make music and to tour, both as a solo artist and with The Allman Brothers.

Gregory Allman is a firm believer in everything happening for a reason.  It’s obvious that he’s done a lot of soul-searching since he’s been sober, even finding God in the Episcopal Church.  He lives every day with the grief of the loss of his big brother Duane, someone who continues to inspire the enlightened rogue, and yet just gets on with living his life.  He is truly inspirational.

 Music is my life’s blood.  I love music.  I love to play good music, and I love to play music for people who appreciate it.  And when it’s all said and done, I’ll go to my grave and my brother will greet me, saying, “Nice work, little brother – you did all right.

My Cross to Bear is everything that a rock’n’roll memoir should be: well-written, interesting, entertaining, emotive, chock full of stimulating music references, filled with great photos, rated R, and above all, unforgettable.  This is a must read for all music lovers!

Watch Gregg Allman talk about his memoir on CBS This Morning here.

After a brief chat on the phone, it seemed our mutual friend was right: we hit it off right away and were comrades in arms from the outset. He came over to my place a couple days later and when I opened the door I had to look up, way up – he was six foot nine inches and towered over my six foot frame. He could be quite affectionate and we could me a hug, squeezing my head to his chest with his long gangly arms. I felt like a shrimp.

He greeted me that day with a big toothy grin and we got out the guitars and jammed a bit. I could see right away that Robert was my superior with the guitar. In fact, Robert is one of the very best guitarist I have ever met. His hands were very large and his extra long fingers could do some amazing extensions. He said he knew 80 scales which he learned from staying up all night and playing in the dark. His amp was always set at 10. He was a monster.

I had been jamming with my old bandmate, Matt the drummer and a bass-player named Darren I had met through an ad in the local arts mag. Robert completed the mix and we started rehearsing, hashing out a blues rock mix centered around my tunes and Robert’s stunning solos.

Robert had a Stevie Ray Vaughn/Pink Floyd/prog rock style of playing: blues based with huge power and he used a lot of inversions and sustained chords. The effect was a very dark, alternative blues rock. Everywhere we played people were in awe of Robert.

Matt had recently married and he and Corinne had a lovely little baby girl. They rented out the basement to Robert for $200. He had a mattress, a box of clothes and his guitar gear – that was it. I got Robert a job at the courier company I was working for and helped him buy a car and get established in Vancouver.

Robert was used to living cheap and for awhile he was living on 99 cent pizza and canned tomatoes. We were concerned for him but he didn’t care, he just wanted to make music.

We did some recordings and played at some charity events for a few weeks and then Robert suggested we all rent a house together and really make a go of it. I was pumped. Matt and Darren thought it was a great idea too. We could all chip in, save some money on rent and have our own rehearsal space.

I found a place almost immediately. It was a bit far out of town, just outside of Abbotsford but the place was awesome. A 7-bedroom farmhouse sitting on 10 acres! And only for $1200 a month. There were a few applicants the landlord said but he would take a look at ours. I was straight with him and explained we were a band and we wanted to live together and record. I think he had the impression we were a major label act and much to my surprise he called and said we could have the place.

The guys thought it was excellent. So much space and their was a large detached garage which we could use for rehearsal space. I let my landlady know I was moving out and started packing my gear. Darren and Matt gave their notice and we were all excited. All, that is, except Robert. He was strangely silent and non-commital.

A week before we were to move in, Robert informed us he was not coming. “What!?” we exclaimed, “It was your idea!” We begged and pleaded with him, but it was no use. His mind was made up.

We had already paid our deposit and first month’s rent. We couldn’t back out now. And we had all given out notices and our landlords had already found new tenants. Without Robert’s financial help, and without his guitar, we were sunk. We had a band meeting to discuss our plans.

Darren was also a guitarist and wanted to get away from bass. He suggested we find another bass player who would move in with us and carry on with the new line-up. We crossed our fingers, looked before we leaped and moved in.

The farmhouse was awesome. We had many friends over to visit and had a couple of big parties. I loved the rural life and we helped maintain the place, doing outdoor chores to keep the place. We loved our rehearsal space, it had a big wood stove and there was a huge wood pile, so we kept warm that winter to the cheery glow of burning cedar.

We found a dumpster full of old carpet and under-padding behind a carpet store in Richmond. We loaded up our cars with carpet and brought it out to farmhouse. We carpeted the walls, floor and ceiling which acted as insulation and also sound dampening so we could play and hear ourselves at loud volume.

One Sunday afternoon, everyone was out for the day. We came back home and the front door was kicked in, lying on the ground. The place had been ransacked. Matt’s two thousand dollar stereo was gone as well as some of Corinne’s jewelry. Matt and Corinne’s bedroom was turned upside down.

I raced upstairs because I had left $250 in cash sitting under my change jar on the night table. I flicked on the lights and the change jar was gone! Oh no, there’s goes my cash, I thought. I looked closed and there sitting on my table was the money. The thieves had grabbed the $10 in change and missed the cash. Haha, thank you for unobservant thieves.

Things started to go downhill from there. Darren didn’t have his share of the rent money for the next month. I had to cover his end. And Matt and Corinne were looking for another place. The rent was due in a few days and I was the only one with their share. We had found a bass player who said he would move in with us but then he changed his mind! Eek!

I talked to Matt and Corinne and they said they would stay and give me the rent on the 1^st of the month. Whew! I just had to cover Darren.

It was Christmas time and Matt and Corinne went to visit relatives but by New Years Eve they had not come back from their visit. Uh-oh, this was not looking good. Darren said we should lock their stuff up in the garage as collateral until they gave us the rent. I had a gut feeling that this was a bad idea but we did it anyway, lugging all their worldly goods into the garage. We bolted the door shut and hammered a bunch of boards over it so they couldn’t get in there.

And then I went to work.

I got a call from the manager at work that afternoon to call Darren, it was an emergency. I was tied up and didn’t get a chance to call til the end of the day and then there was no answer. I drove home to the farmhouse and the front door was wide open. Nobody was home. I went out to the garage and the door we had so carefully boarded up was smashed to pieces. All of Matt and Corinne’s belongings were gone. I drove into Abbotsford looking for Darren.

I finally caught up with him and he was livid. Matt and Corinne had shown up with a couple of Matt’s friends with a truck to get his stuff. Darren told Matt they could have their stuff as soon as they gave us their share of the rent. But Matt was determined to get his belonging. They booted down the door and so Darren phoned the police. Darren told them there was a break-and-enter in progress. The police asked him if they had weapons and Darren inexplicably said, “Yes!”

It was New Year’s Day, a notoriously slow day for the cops. “Armed robbery in progress” got their attention and the entire Abbotsford police force piled out of the donut shop and headed screaming to our farmhouse. 15 officers in 9 police cars showed up with guns drawn. They surrounded the property and burst through the door of the farmhouse weapons at ready.

They dragged everybody out of the house and cuffed them face down on the front lawn. After an hour of explanations, the police finally let everybody go, calling it a “domestic dispute.”

My landlord showed up soon after. Little did we know he was an Abbotsford police officer. He was not on shift that day but they had called him to let him know his place was under seige. He was embarrassed and not very happy with us at all.

I explained to him we didn’t have the rent for the month and Matt and Corrine had secretly rented another place in Vancouver behind our backs. Darren had no rent either so we were hooped. The landlord asked us to leave so he could rent it out to someone else.

We forfeited our damage deposit and I had to scramble to find a place to live.

The consequences of my ill-fated musical adventure were mostly unpleasant. Matt and Corinne had a nice settled apartment which they gave up to join our plans for touring and musical success. They never really landed back on their feet and soon after split up and Corinne took the baby with her back to live with her parents in Toronto. I have never seen Matt since, so I don’t know what happened to him.

Darren was the only one who came out ahead because he met his soon-to-be wife while we were out there in Abbotsford. I was the best man at his wedding and they moved to Ontario and that’s the last I heard from him.

We were pretty upset with Robert and I had some harsh words with him. I saw him about a year later and he had found a Canadian girl and they had a baby daughter together, though we couldn’t really be friends anymore, how could I trust him? The last I heard he and his girlfriend had split up.

I bounced around from one friend’s couch to another for the next year. It wasn’t fun and everyone gave me the I-told-you-so’s and I-knew-it-would-never-work-out’s until I was sick of hearing it. I also lost my job around this time and ended up getting a job in an optical store working for minimum wage. It was a miserable year for me.

All in all, I could only chalk it up as an experience, one which I probably would not care to repeat.

I would have to say that my first real band is an experience which I usually reflect upon with a smile. I was living in Peterborough at the time, playing mostly in duos, performing at local coffee houses and jam nights or just getting together occasionally with musical friends and acquaintances for a fun night.

I had met a drummer in Vancouver the summer previous when I was out West for a few months to work and travel and broaden my horizons. Matt was half Chinese and typically short. He worked out at the gym regularly and at one point he was up to 205 lbs, an incredible weight for a guy standing about 5 foot nothing. He would spend 3-4 hours at the gym and puff up like a blowfish on steroids and then strut around like a Sumo wrestler.

I was back in Ontario staring out the frost covered February window, debating on whether to pack up and permanently move out to Vancouver . I was really hating the winters and work was scarce: I had several part-time jobs over the last couple years but couldn’t find anything full-time. Everyone seemed depressed to me and I felt like I was in a dead-end.

Matt called me from Vancouver and said he had met a guitarist who he was jamming with regularly and they really needed a bass player to complete the band. I was mostly a bass player at that time and had only just gotten into guitar.

That clinched it for me. Better weather, the prospect of employment and a band with rehearsal space – it sounded like music to my ears. The next morning I called into work and said my aunt had died and I loaded up my pick-up truck with all my worldly goods and headed out

I rolled into Vancouver within a few days, found a place to crash and within a week I had a job. Sweet!

Matt was as good as his word and I got together with him and his friend Wayne for a jam. Matt was the drummer at the local church and they kindly let him use the main sanctuary to practice. I hit it off with Wayne right away and we jammed at the church for a couple hours. We really seemed to click right away and were laughing and joking around like long-lost friends. Matt got so hyper on the drum kit, he kept loosing his grip on his sticks and they would come flying out from behind the drumkit – Wayne and I were ducking to avoid getting a stick in the eye.

We joked that we were under fire and Matt was assaulting us with his flak. And hence, “Matt Flak” was born. The name stuck right from the start.

Wayne knew a jam night just up the street on Commercial Drive at the Gran Sasso Restaurant. Why don’t we go? he suggested. We laughed at the thought. We had just met and Wayne wanted to go play live! Haha it was too funny. But he was serious and totally fearless.

What the heck, Matt and I said. We quickly decided on three tunes to do and ran through them a couple times and headed down the Drive to the gig. The Gran Sasso was in full swing when we got there and the host band was cranking out their myopic jazz covers while we sat in the back and ordered some beers.

There was usually quite a list of bands and solo artists who showed up for this popular jam night. We met the cover band during their break and signed up for our three-song set. He asked us what was the name of our group and we all chimed in, “Matt Flak!”

“Mud Flaps?” he said.

“NO!” we cried, “Matt Flak!”

“Mad F@*KS?!” he said louder.

“Matt Flak!” Again, he didn’t get it, so we had to write it down for him. This became a ritual for us for the next couple years as we bounced from jam night to jam night. One host asked if Matt Flak was the crud that you wiped off your boots on the door mat. LOL!

We got up after a few other bands, most of whom were just as amateurish as us. Frankly, we sucked. What else would you expect after just meeting up and playing live with almost no rehearsal? But we didn’t care. We had too much fun anyway.

Sometimes Wayne would introduce a song five minutes before we were to go up. Hey, he would say, I was working on this song this afternoon and it goes like this…He would hum a few bars and show me the chord progression. This was actually a bit much for me because I suffered from stage fright at the time and the added stress of banging out some song I had never even heard almost pushed me over the top.

But Wayne was insistent. Let’s do it, he would say, smiling his little Eddie Van Halen smirk. And I couldn’t talk him out of it. Oh well, we would butcher our way through the songs and laugh at ourselves after. A couple times we were so messed up in our arrangements we were politely thanked by the MC after only one tune.

My stage fright was horrible then. I felt physically ill before going on and often had to go in the washroom for fear I would throw up. Once I got up on stage, I was actually quite confident and I could joke around and chat with the audience a bit giving them a little spiel about the next song.

Wayne was actually a very good guitarist and he could learn the solos note for note off the cd. And Matt was an excellent drummer…we got a lot of compliments from other musicians and audience members about both of them. We just couldn’t seem to get organized. We hardly practiced. The jam nights were really our practices! We just tried out new material or half-written songs on our unsuspecting audience. Sometimes it worked, but mostly it didn’t.

Vancouver was, and still is, a nesting ground for hippies and disaffected types who wander to the coast to bask in the soggy glow of Canada’s watery California. One of the most memorable places we often played at, was the Circling Dawn which was actually a health food store. They had an extremely small elevated stage in the middle of the store. It was more like a big shelf than a stage. The three of us could barely stand on it without falling off.

A big hairy Australian hippie got up one night and sang his one-song repertoire. He had no shoes or socks or shirt, just a pair of jeans. He played one chord and sang out in his thick Australian accent, “Don’t go shopping when you’re naked!”

Another club we played at was the Station Street club near the train station. A guy got up and said he was a “rock musician”. He taped a couple mini mics to a pair of rocks and rubbed them together. He ran the mics through guitar effects and made all kinds of rude, ambient noises while a slide show of his rock collection scrolled on a screen behind him. People seemed to love him.

After we played, the MC introduced the next act. Suddenly a naked man in his 70’s appeared in the middle of stage! EEK! He said he usually performed in the round and would any audience members care to form a circle around him on the stage? Well, the rock musician was still hanging about and jumped up on stage, sat cross-legged on the floor along with a couple others.

The skinny relic leaped, cavorted and danced about while reciting his improv beat poetry, testicles dangling and wispy white hair falling across his face. At one point, he bent over with his posterior directed at the crowd. Someone in the back yelled, “What an a$$hole!” to a chorus of snickers.

Wayne had his camera with him and videotaped the whole thing. We killed ourselves laughing afterwards, showing the tape to all our friends and family.

All good things come to an end, as the saying goes, and the sun soon faded on our little trio and we all moved on.

I was becoming increasing frustrated, trying to sing and play bass which just wasn’t that comfortable for me. I was playing more and more guitar and I was pushing the band to get a bass player so I could concentrate on vocals and guitar. Wayne however, wanted to get a female singer instead, which would basically take away my treasured role.

Matt also suddenly found a girlfriend and wanted to spend all his time with her and so sadly enough we parted ways.

All the other bands I played in after that were serious and everyone worked hard and it took along time before we got out to play live. Matt Flak was a great learning experience for me because we were so bold and didn’t really care if we were good or not. We just played and had fun.

Being disorganized and sucking live wore on me after awhile though, and I started pushing to rehearse more and perfect the music first before introducing it to an audience. Alas, it takes a lot of fun out of it when you get more demanding of yourself and others and decide to try and get somewhere.

]]> http://budgetflatsinchennai.wordpress.com/2012/05/30/sam-welcomes-jordan-rudess-dream-theater-as-special-guest-faculty-in-residence-for-fall-2012-program/ Wed, 30 May 2012 06:35:25 +0000 budgetflatsinchennai http://budgetflatsinchennai.wordpress.com/2012/05/30/sam-welcomes-jordan-rudess-dream-theater-as-special-guest-faculty-in-residence-for-fall-2012-program/ Swarnabhoomi Academy of Music welcomes pianist, keyboardist, composer and member of Dream Theater, Jordan Rudess as Special Guest Faculty in Residence for the Fall 2012 program.

I saw a shamefully small few bands (after spending £22 for a Live At Leeds day ticket) at what was a full weekend of music across several of the main venues around Leeds, but I had a great time consuming a large amount of alcohol and filling my memory card.

The only bands I saw were those that either my friends were in, or that I knew from my days as a sound engineer. In order of appearance (minus the blue spotlight silhouetted shot – subject unknown) the bands were ICS, Japanese Fighting Fish and Secret Sirens.

As this was my first attempt at live music photography, my shots became more daring as the day went on (and my drunken courage intensified).

The last shot is of a homeless gent who kindly played us a merry whistle tune to dance to on the main shopping high street.

Please accept my sincere apologies for having not posted in so long. I intend to maintain a weekly post discipline from now on. Thanks for viewing.

2012-04-14 Vincent’s

I caught up to Stu on the occasion of The Roadkill Orchestra’s monthly residency at Vincent’s, on Suffolk Street, in Worcester. (They play on the second Saturday of each month.) At this point the band had cemented its lineup (Stu Esty – piano, vocals; Austin Beliveau-drums, James Bennett – saxophone; Jerry Maday-bass & Darren Pinto- guitar), and Stu was well into renovations at the new location of his shop, Dr. Gonzo’s Uncommon Condiments, which had relocated from the north end of Main Street, Worcester, to a more discreet setting at 90 May Street, Worcester.

Me: Tell me the abbreviated biography of Stu Esty.

Stu: Oh, Jesus! There is no abbreviated biography. Even the “Hemingway” version could take up volumes. My grandmother taught piano. I spent a lot of my infancy in a bassinette underneath the Steinway Grand Piano as she taught a parade of  six, seven and eight year olds, who were killing the Thompson’s registry. [Thompson’s is a popular set of teaching method books.] Rumor has it that even before I could speak I was climbing up onto the piano bench and finishing phrases that they couldn’t handle, because I just knew how to play the friggin’ songs.

I started taking lessons at the age of six with Phoebe Yassyr, a fantastic Egyptian woman of small stature and immense patience. I did not know that I had dyslexia, so the notes flowed for me on the page. It was my interpretation of classical music for almost ten-eleven years. All I really wanted to do was to play rock ‘n’ roll.

Me: But the reading was tough?

Stu: I could see where things were supposed to go, but the notes float on the page. So, for me, it was always in my interpretation. I learned to play by ear, and this gift has allowed me to play with others (although I do love running with scissors).

[I formed my first band when I was seven, in our music room in our house, called the Esty’s Pesties. We were going to take on the elementary school and birthday party circuit. I paid my best friend Chet Brett, a quarter to be our front man (booking and promoting), because he was tone deaf. So, I gave him a quarter and he went and spent my hard earned money on penny candy at the Buffalo Store, in Southboro. So, I lost that investment. That was my first lesson in dealing with the harsh reality that is Rock and Roll.

Me: And was all this in Southboro?

Stu: No, inFramingham. Right on the Ashland/Southboro line.

So, I formed my first rock ‘n’ roll band when I was seven, learning how to deal with other musicians and their personalities and emotions. Had a friend in the neighborhood named Allan who begged to be the rhythm guitarist. We tried jamming but he just wasn’t up to the task (we were freaking seven) so I called in my friend, Billy Carb who I had played with in church. When Allen realized that he was not going to be playing lead he had a slight melt down until we had him switch over to bass guitar. No one told me that there was more to just playing music when you're starting a band. It was another life lesson and pretty steep learning curve when you’re seven or eight years old and writing your own material.

I remember writing my first song when I was four. It was about what I was gonna be when I grow up. My nursery school teacher stumped me. She asked me what I was gonna be when I grow up – on a Friday – and I thought about it until the enc of the day and then remember that asked if I could think about it some more. So, I spent all weekend dwelling on the subject. The whole conundrum – I wanted to be a captain on a whaling vessel, but I knew that Moby Dick was out there. I wanted to be a cop, but there were robbers. Be a robber, there were cops. Be an Indian, there were fucking cowboys. Be a cowboy, there were Indians. Be a game hunter, there where rhinoceri. So, I figured out early on I wanted to be a milkman.

Me: Milkman?

Stu: Yes. You get to hang out with dairy animals. Go to work early. You’re out of work by noon. They give you your own truck to drive around, and everyone was happy to see you. It’s a good thing I didn’t know about adultery, otherwise I would have had to rethink that one, as well.

Me: Or Monty Python. Bring it to the present. How did you end up in Worcester?

Stu: Early ‘90s we moved up here.

I left New England in the ‘70s – late ‘70s – lived all across theUnited States– out west, down south. Moved overseas. Lived in the Orient for two-and-a-half years; lived in Europe for three years, trying to replicate what we have here inWorcester, and I couldn’t do it.  I’m a thirteenth or fourteenth generation New Englander, out ofFramingham, and it’s in my blood. I need the weather changes, I need the people, I need the diversity. But I can’t live in suburbia. I need an urban environment. Our family has always been Worcestercentric. My father worked for Norton Company for twenty-four years; my grandfather had a paper distribution house down where the Centrum [now theDCUCenter] is; my great uncles all taught at WPI, and so we’ve always been Worcestercentric. And you can’t replicate what we have here anywhere else.

I moved back to NewEnglandin the early ‘90s, specifically here in ’92-’93, doing a triple-decker existence with a young bride.

When my boy was born, back in 1999, I was out playing five nights a week. The Roadkill Orchestra was one of the projects I was in, with Austy – “Tuna”. [Austin Beliveau, current RKO drummer] Tuna and I (and a series of folks) tried doing this and for three years we failed to find the right people to fill out the band. But the music scene back then was different. Everybody was still looking for that golden carrot, and there was a lot of competition instead of cooperation.

Nowadays the music scene has changed as has the industry has changed, as you know, and it’s a lot more cohesive. It’s cross promotion. I’ve found that (at least here in Worcester) more people working with each other instead of against each other, and I’ve studied the music industry all my life, and whether it’s Detroit or Athens [GA] or Muscle Shoals [famed Alabama recording studio] or Seattle, there are hotspots popping up all over the place. The industry is always looking for the next hotbed, and there’s so much talent here. There’s so much talent in this town. The depth and breadth of talent here is – I can’t turn around without stumbling upon somebody who is an artist, spoken word, a writer, a filmmaker, a musician – it doesn’t matter. All my friends are incredibly talented. I feel blessed to be here. I really do. You can get more shit done inWorcester than in anyplace else in the world, I’ve found. You want to get something done fast? Come toWorcester. But don’t tell anybody that, or else they’ll all show up.

Me: Tell me how you got down onto Main Street with the business [Stu relocated his Uncommon Condiments Emporium to 90 May Street, Worcester, in the spring of 2012 from 122 Main Street.] and the modern version of The Roadkill Orchestra.

Stu: I took a look at my life, in 1999, and I was out playing five nights a week, and I had a young family, and I really had to take a hard look at where my priorities were. So, I put a suit and tie on, and I gave it [music] up, with the exception of a gospel choir. I wasn’t the same person. I tried putting it away, and I’m not the same person. I work out a lot of my demons through my music. I leave most of my emotions onstage, and I’m able to deal with life that way – in my lyrics and in my performance.

When things fell apart in my personal life, I made a commitment to get back to music, and part of what I’m doing with my condiment business is to create a community. The things that bring us together as a species, in my opinion – in my experience – the three things that bring us back together after everything is tearing us apart is music, art, and food. Those are the three unifiers that I’ve found, and what we’re doing with the Dr. Gonzo product is all three of those things. OnMain StreetI had the ability to play music and open up the doors and just blast it out ontoMain Street, just because of our location. If I had tried doing that anywhere else, I would’ve got into a lot of trouble. But because we were innorth Main Street, a virtual ghost land, we were able to do that.

To get my writing chops back up to speed, I forced myself to have the Turd Thursdays Writing Challenge, and I would have challenges put out there once a month that sometimes I even couldn’t come up with. I’d say, “This is easy.” It wasn’t. But it got me to write again, which was very important, and a lot of what you hear on the first album and the second album are from the Turd Thursday Songwriters’ Challenge.

I’m currently going through an incredible creative spurt, over the last month. I don’t know who I’m channeling, but I’m writing more lyrics than I can shake a stick at – on the back of Dunkin’ Donuts bags that I rip open, bits and pieces of trash…I’m just writing lyrics all over the place. I was sitting in Beatnik’s [rock club, onPark Avenue,Worcester] listening to my friends James Keyes and the Ten foot Polecats, and I ripped out some more lyrics sitting at the bar in front of Chris. It’s amazing how much good talent is out there.

So, we’re doing our CD release party on [Saturday] June 16^th, and I’m afraid that these boys are going to have to learn another twelve or fifteen tunes before then. I might not even play our second album when it comes to our CD release party.

Me: And where is the CD release party?

Stu: it’s gonna be at Ralph’s with Kevin Williams and the Invisible Orphans, out of Providence [RI]; with WHAT, a fantastic jam band out of Worcester, featuring Jay Kelly and the boys; and the ever popular and ever hilarious Shaun Connolly, a.k.a. Flip McClaine. He’s going to be our emcee for the evening.

Me: Tell me a little bit about the new lineup of the band.

Stu: Fantastic lineup! I’m totally blessed! Life has gotten in the way of a lot of our prior lineups, but this latest lineup is spectacular. Austie is still with us. We picked up James Bennett on tenor saxophone last March. He’s a perennial favorite; he’s the eye candy of the band. Jimmy the Lid. We also have Jerry Maday on bass – one of the most talented amateurs I’ve ever run into –multi instrumentalist who studied theory and composition. He’s coming up with bass melody lines that are absolutely spectacular, which frees me up to do other things. We also have the right reverend Darren Pinto on guitar, who at one point in his stellar career toured with George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers. And this evening we also have our former bass guitarist “Magic Don”, who is also a killer guitarist – sitting in on second guitar!! He’ll always has a seat here with us. Anytime.

Me: I’ve never seen you with two guitars.

Stu: Well, he’s an occasional second guitar. Jimmy the Lid is not able to be with us this evening. [He’s on] that work release program. [Laughs.] He’s back wearing the orange jumpsuit tonight.

Me: You’ve played Vincent’s before.

Stu: We scored the Second Saturday Spectacular residency, so every second Saturday of 2012 you can catch our musical mayhem right here at Vincent’s.

Me: So it’s every other Saturday?

Stu: Every second Saturday. The Second Saturday Spectacular. It is once a month. Unless there’s three second Saturdays, which, if there is, please let me know, because I have to rearrange my schedule.

Me: On somebody’s calendar. Do you like playing at Vincent’s?

Stu: I love it! I absolutely love it! It is snug, but it is the most intimate venue for the audience to get to know what’s happening. [Laughs.] And also possibly the world’s best meatball sandwich.

Me: Oh, yeah! But you’re a big guy and Roadkill makes a lot of noise. How do you tame that here?

Stu: We do, somewhat. It’s about listening to each other and being attentive to the audience. It’s all fun. It’s like playing in your living room. You really can’t fuck up here.

Me: Tell me about your new location [for Dr. Gonzo’s Uncommon Condiments].

Stu: 90 May Street! [Worcester– corner of May/Mayfield between the Park Ave. CVS and next door to Big Y supermarket]

Me: Same mayhem?

Stu: Same mayhem, new location. The buildout is not complete. When it is finished, we hope to have the first ever in the country at least walk up and possibly drive-up condiment window, where you have to talk into an intelligible jalapeno speaker. We will understand you, but you will not understand us. That, in itself, is worth the drive and price of admission.

Me: And will you have the same products?

Stu: We’re bringing our products back in a phased manner, and some of our products will be relegated to a seasonal status. But we’re endeavoring to keep a high quality of consistency and availability to our customers.

Me: And any new stuff coming along?

Stu: No, we just gotta get our customer’s favorites back first! After that, we’ll talk! [Laughs]

Joshua Webb, a keyboardist who played on Ledisi’s Grammy-nominated album “Pieces of Me,” was killed in a car wreck Wednesday while driving in rainy weather on I-285 near Langford Parkway.

Webb was originally from St. Louis but recently moved to Atlanta, reports the St. Louis Dispatch. He also played organ for Ray of Hope Christian Church in Decatur.

Webb is credited with playing piano on Ledisi’s song “Bravo,” and organs on the song “Shine.”

@Ledisi said on Twitter: When u hear the piano part on Bravo that’s Josh Webb R.I.P Mylove& prayers 2 The Webb Family

Webb also performed on a Ledisi song called “Ladder” that didn’t make the album, but he performed “Ladder” with Ledisi at the Trumpet Awards in Atlanta last year.

The Ledisi songs Webb played on were produced by Webb’s oldest brother, John Webb Jr., also known as Jon Jon Traxx, a multiple Grammy nominee who has worked with Beyonce, Mary J. Blige and Usher.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Webb family.

Read the full story here.

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