Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

After college I got a good job in Richmond designing and selling radiator coils-real engineering dork work. I got myself an apartment in the fan and a nice used Infinity. I started living the life of regular yuppie. I got up every morning, took a shower, turned on the Today show, sorted through the spectrum of polo shirts in my closet, choosing one that I hadn’t worn in the past two days, and ate a breakfast bar on my way to work. After work, I’d meet one of my buddies at Buddy’s and get shot down by the local ladies. And do it all over again the next day.

Meanwhile, my guitars were collecting a thick layer of dust waiting to be restrung and brought back to life. Life was consistent and good, yet uninspiring. I had no girlfriend issues, no money issues, no work issues. I was virtually stress- free. Yet, somehow, I was dying inside. All work and no play makes “Two Thumbs” (this guy) quite uptight.

Fortunately, that bass player from Exit 118 (link) moved back to Richmond, and we decided to put a band together. Having gone to an art school in Richmond in high school, he knew a drummer and a keyboard player. That band (Newman – named after my free-spirit cat that would sit on the steps and watch us practice) was much better. We played a lot of less main-stream classic rock covers and wrote a lot more songs. Our covers were typically obscure blues or jazz tunes that we would recreate in our own style. We took over the weekly gig at Cary Street Café for a few years after that other band (link to Part 4) finally gave up. We played a few shows in C’ville at Wild Wing and the Outback Lodge. Yes, there was a fight.

This band was different from all the others, because the musicians were all much better trained. They had all gone to a high school with an excellent music program, and studied and played together. They taught me how to “listen” to the other musicians and how to react to their changes, and most importantly, when not to play. We could all sing, and we spent a lot of time practicing vocals. Although it sounds like a lot of work, it never really was. It was fun because it was challenging. I’d never played music like this before. We were playing in strange keys and rotating time signatures. We’d discuss the musical theory behind what we were doing. It was complicated, sometimes too complicated, but WE knew what was going on, and we weren’t about to dumb it down for our fans.

That was probably the downfall of the band. It was about us, the musicians, challenging each other. Not caring if the audience understood what was going on. We were having fun. Some people DID get it, typically other musicians who were impressed with our balls. Our crowds grew very slowly at those weekly gigs. So slowly, in fact that it burned us out. It was a struggle to have to force energy into a lifeless room. We started playing more recognizable cover songs to attract an audience. It worked, but it didn’t. We pigeon-holed ourselves into the band that plays that really good version of Bruce Hornsby’s cover of “Loser” by the Grateful Dead. We lost our focus, and the music suffered. We began to write bad, unpolished songs. Finally, our drummer gave up and moved to Spain. And that was the end of Newman.

The cat is still alive. But, ha. Today she’s wearing a lampshade. (link)

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