A Trip to Austin || Shenanigans || August 2013

It had always been on the list. Through the years I had heard many a good thing about the city of Austin.  Texas has never attracted me.  But their capital city has.  Solely due to the fact that so many friends who love music have told me about their adventures to Austin.  Mine was about to happen.

A good friend (who happens to be a die hard music fan) is getting married.  When asked where he would want to have his bachelor party there were only two choices; Nashville & Austin.  He chose Austin.  Fifteen middle-aged men piled into a flop house right on 6th and Brushy for a long weekend of booze, music and good times.  I felt like I had shed twenty years of life.

Rolling into town on a Thursday afternoon we got situated and staked out a game plan for the night.  One crew went boozing.  I was really torn, not because I wanted to go boozing, I was already boozed up enough.  A " new favorite" band was playing at the Parish on 6th.  I had seen Diarrhea Planet earlier this year back home in San Jose when the opened for Jeff the Brotherhood.  Both great bands.  But something drew me closer to DP.  Maybe it was the way they crammed so many goddamn guitars on the stage with out it sounding lame. Either way, I attempted to talk some guys into going to the Parish with me.  The another contingent, led by Adam spoke up about having a friend playing over at the Broken Spoke.  Some old Honky Tonk on the edge of town.  I knew DP would be back and I was up for something new.  I decided to head with those guys for some country music, Texas style.

I was not disappointed one bit.  The bar was an outstanding piece of history where good times are still flowing readily.  A true place for couples to intermingle and dance the night away to a real live band.  Maybe it is me, but that shit just isn't happening like it used to.  It was a thing of true beauty to see.  Not mention the band, Jesse Dayton.  This guy has a regular standing Thursday night gig at the Broken Spoke.  Seeing them perform I knew why.  They were a tight band that I would've of loved to have seen more of.  The next morning in the local ad-rag I read an article about the development surrounding the place and its life is being threatened for stucco-bomb condos and strip mall shit.  Let's hope it never happens because it is really damn hard to replicate 50 years of history. Enjoy it while you still can.

Friday night bOoze fest on dirty 6th.  Lots of bull riding and dj's.  Let's move on to Saturday.

Saturday morning started out at the Hula Hut, but quickly made its way to a South Congress joint called Guero's.  Outside in the 100 degree heat we sat under misters, drinking many 'o Tecate listening to some sizzling blue by seasoned pros.  These guys did not miss a beat.  The old adage rings true, to play anywhere in Austin on a weekend, you've gotta be good.  Paul Orta and The Kingpins ripped through some blues standards as well as some unfamiliar tunes.

A portion of the crew peeled off to participate in some true bachelor party activities, while three of us meandered under the hot sun until we found another bar. The Continental Club is an old supper club with a wonderful history.  They don't serve supper anymore, just booze and live music practically every day of the week.  Cornell Hurd was up on stage with his big band doing his thing that he has done for 40 plus years.  We sat in the back and dranks some beers soaking up the atmosphere.  With a mid-day buzz rolling we curbed our hunger and headed back to the crash pad for some rest.

That night a crew wanted to go back down to 6th street for some hard partying.  I had different plans.  I saw that this band, The Hex Dispensers, were playing that night less than a half a block from where I was staying.  Checking them out online I realized that it was my calling to go see this band perform.  How well I know myself.

When I showed up, the second band was setting up.  Crooked Bangs set their minimal gear up and then set the stage on fire.  Watch out for this band.  Damn, I would see them again in a heartbeat.  Snappy drummer, heavy bass and noisy guitar...what more could I ask for?  They sounded like a cross between early Kings of Leon and the Melvins. All but better.  A young band.  Once the bass player gets an Ampex SVT with an 8x10 cab and the guitarist get a vintage Marshall or fender and keeps rocking that jazzmaster the tones will only sweeten up!

I was satisfied.  Then the Hex Dispenser came out.  Hotter than hot.  They sounded awesome with no bass and intertwining vocals.  I didn't realize it with my preview but they were very reminiscent of my own band with two guitars, no bass and a woman drummer with screaming backing vocals.  See for yourself.


What a way to end a trip to Austin.  I hope that any and all bands come to the West Coast.  I will be there!








 Videos of The Hex Dispensers, Crooked Bangs and the ever gracious Jesse Dayton:

Dreaming || 1984 Designer Series Gibson Flying V || Old Guitars

In september of 1984 I was a 12 year old kid taking a huge bite out of the guitar licks bellowing from the Scorpions newly released album, "Love at First Sting".  The dueling solos between Mattias Jabs and Rudolph Schenker filled my young head with dreams of someday being on stage wielding an axe nearly as cool as these guys.  I loved Matthias' explorer, but oh that flying V was the real dream.  Ever since I saw it sketched on Dave Fedorenko's book cover in math class the love affair began.

However years, responsibility, boredom, etc. got in the way and it took me until 2006 to finally think about getting a band together.  The Booty Chesterfield Trio played the circuit for several years.  My main axe at the beginning was a 1982 Smith Stratocaster by Fender.  It is still a sweet guitar, but not much of an attention grabber.  Around the end of 2009 I saw The Gillbillies play for the first time.  The first thing that struck me about these cats was how bad ass Jimbo was for rocking a Flying V.  The flame of my old (and almost forgotten) love was reignited.  I wanted to be like Jimbo.  I wanted to rock a Flying V.  But not just any V would do.  If there is one thing that I learned from The Gillbillies is that you have to have a different, unique approach.  So I wasn't just going to find an "off the shelf" V; I wanted something with style.

Months went by.  Then in February of 2010 I saw this beauty rear its ugly head on good old Craigslist.  A 1984 Designer Series Gibson Flying V.  I had to have it.  Plus, I thought it was a heck of a deal.  My main reason for acquiring it was kind of as a joke, i.e. to live out a childhood fantasy of rocking a Flying V on stage.  Then I got my hands on it....

I got it off some kid in N. San Jose's Japantown.  It was in decent shape.  At one time it had stickers all over it that had been removed still the clear coat has aged at different times.  The pickups had been switched out a long while back to Seymour Duncans.  There were no breaks or major chips and the neck felt good.  There were two missing volume knobs and a cracked tone knob.  After a quick test run I quickly paid the chap his cash and headed home for a true test drive.

The first thing I noticed was how good the pickups sounded.  I had a Classic Les Paul before with 500t & 496r pickups in it and it sounded like golden ringing compared to my LP (which I soon traded away).  The neck also was super fast and played awesome.  I replaced the volume and tone knobs with some old jaguar ones and we were off to the races.  I played this guitar as my main stage axe for all of 2009 and pretty much all of the rest of the Booty Chesterfield Trio shows.  I don't ever plan on selling this bad boy.  Too cool for school, plus it has a little bit of my childhood metal roots embedded within those licks it puts out.  Enjoy the pictures.

And here are a couple of videos of the V in action:

Live shots are courtesy of Ian Healy & Murray Bowles

The Graves Brothers Deluxe || San Malo || Reviewing Vinyl

The men who form The Graves Brothers Deluxe are living proof that the longer you play as well as study the artform of music, the better you get at it.  What we will be taking a look at today is their new LP out on Too Long to Chew Music.  On a recent Blogcast I caught the frontman, Stoo Odom, spinning the Tales of how the album came about.  It is a story based on an island in swampland East of New Orleans where the oldest living inhabitants from the far east escaped the oppressive Spanish who enslaved them.  Traveling across the atlantic in 1740 they lived for 150 years in peace as well as relative obscurity until a hurricane wiped their tribe completely off the map.  No Survivors.  Fast forward 400 years and Katrina did the same for a lot of residents of the City of New Orleans.  When prompted, frontman Stoo shared that the more recent event had a catastrophic effect on his loved ones and he felt a kinship with the story of San Malo.  Parallel lines.  Events never change, just faces and and numerics.  Besides the tales they spin, this album comes in custom orange vinyl decorated with pink and red dots, just like someone threw paint  on a wall.  A real beauty.  Not sure who or what is behind the album artwork, but you guys get an A+ for originality.

 Side One:
1.SanMalo National Anthem- Heavy Duty.  Let's you know where this album is about to go to.  2.I'm Fine-Chorus is arrogant and awesome.  3.Splinters- Vocal performance is one of the best on the album.  Drumming out of this jazzy world.  4.Five Foot Category Five- Primus meets Tom Waits (did I just say that?) The least favorite thing on this side is that little RHCP break.  It's not that I don't like the break, its just everything else is off the hook with originality up to this point on the album.  5.Vulture Sing- The Guitar work on this tune is spectacular, and I don't even want to about the tones these guys are getting down. Nice stuff!

Side Two:
1.My Heart Burned Down Today- This second side starts off with a sick and twisted love song.....just waiting for that coming train.  It teases you just enough with a sick groove that really comes to life on the second verse.  Then dumps you.  2.Papio Paio (The Swamp Ape Again)- We are back into religion.  Is it the religion of fast paced chase scenes a la McQueen in bullet?  I think so.  It builds drama and pace and I might add, is awesome to see live and in person.  3.La Balada De San Malo- Another brilliant number. Short pulsating buzzsaws sung in a foreign language.  God dammit!  That guitar is so short & repetitive...all the while being too good.  The buzz is created through the bass (which is the buzziest instrument in the band).  It adds just enough of a pause to build tension and it's littered through out this gem.  I wish I could cover this one.  4.Noisy Kind of Nothing- Noiso tales of life on the island of San Malo.  5.Fifty Years Later on the Bayou Skimmer -There is a goat on the album.  I keep listening to this song to try to understand the significance of it on the album, to see if there is something I am missing.  To the artist it must mean something, however I follow the live rule...would I want to see it performed live and in person. Probably not.  Everything else on the album I would and I have.  And hopefully I will see it again real soon.

Thumbs Up!

Here is a little live Graves Brothers Deluxe for ya...

Archers of Loaf || Return of Original Music || GAMH 9-2-11

I thought that I would never be able to say that I had been to an Archers of Loaf show.  Why?  Because the most original rock band of the last 20 years (before this year) had not played a live show in over 13 years.  I thought it was hopeless.  Sometime back in April of this year I received a text from the east coast gentlemen who introduced me to their sound.  Blue Lang wrote, "Archers of Loaf, September 2nd.  Date Night.  Get a babysitter."  I was pretty stoked to get this message.

They were the biggest influence on my old band, The Booty Chesterfield Trio.  Blue and I started jamming in the spring of 2006.  As a lot of jams go, you start to bring in your influences.  One of the first bands that Blue turned me on to (and that I took and instant liking to) were these guys.  I got what he wanted out of the music and tried to transcribe that thought process into original tunes.  Hence, the reason for being so influential.  More importantly; they rocked.  And all I wanted to do is rock too.  They are smart punk rock.  Their songs are a mixture of built up drama entangled with overwhelmingly powerful hooks.  They have a lot of "eek and awnk" chord structures in alternate tunings that you don't hear every day.


I had heard several live recordings of them but nothing to prepare me for the show.  Unfortunately, due to a family emergency, Blue did not make the show.  He was back home in Florida.  As the day of the show approached, like so many other things in life when you age, I was tired and just wanted to have a weekend to relax.  Driving up to the City on a Friday night didn't sound too appetizing.  But we rallied and made the most of it.

The opening band sucked.  I cannot even remember their name.  And for the most part I thought the evening was going to suck because the dinner service at the Great American Music Hall.  I had always wanted to sit in the "good seats" that got you dinner and a show, but my cheap ass could never pony up to it.  I need never do it again.  My advice, just get the regular tickets.  While the GAMH is one of the best venues to see a small and intimate show in San Francisco, it is not known for the food or the service.  And the following statement shall serve as an exclamation point.  We had the A grade tickets that night; they gave us the C grade waitress.  A terrible management issue by whoever was in charge that night.  I believe that she was probably new to the job, probably took a hit out of the bong before showing up to work and was completely off.  When it took her 15 minutes to get us a drink from a non-packed upstairs bar (about 30 feet from us) that we were in for it.  Then I noticed the only other group there for dinner had completely finished their meal. I walked up to an usher to inquire (our waitress was no where in site).  Turns out that she completely forgot to place our order and we finally ate overly salted and peppered cafeteria food about hour and a half after our arrival sitting in the dark through a shitty band.  That is the mood that was set.  I was ready to go home.  My buddy took it upon himself to make sure at least we had cocktails on the house floating into our veins to cool our heated jets.  Go for the music; don't go for the food.  And never use a cocktail waitress there.  Very unreliable for such a small intimate venue.

Now for some action.  The Archers came out and completely blew the doors off the non capacity crowd.  They played it perfectly, rolling through all the songs that one who was half a fan would want to hear.  Even more important; it felt real.  It felt like they meant it.  They were not here for the money and to sell more Archers CDs, they were here to put on a kick ass live rock and roll show.



A couple of highlights from the show; staring down from the balcony into the crowd with the Archers in full blast off mode I witnessed  this swirling pool of middle-aged balding white dudes, many with glasses and plaid shirts, attempting to re-start up that pit again, just like they did back in 1993.  But this time with a lot less force.  It was cute (for lack of a better term).  I saw myself in there at one point in time too.  Another highlight was when the Archer's entered into the classic "Low" I heard, check that, we all heard someone shout out "Fuck Yeah!  I have been waiting 15 years to hear this song!!!"  I think that is how many people felt that night.  See, Archers were always an East Coast band.  They never had much of an impact on the west coast as let's say, Pavement or someone else from that era.  Probably because they didn't tour a lot on the west coast.  Maybe two or three times.

So why write about this?  I'd like to encourage musicians to understand the real impact that bands make on people.  The music never dies.  It just keeps on growing.  Now, to see it live...that is a whole different story.  After Friday night I feel like I was one of the fortunate ones....

Archers Of Loaf "Audiowhore" from christopher Bettig on Vimeo.

Pirate Pat's Lost Treasure || 1976 Black on Black Stratocaster || Old Guitars

I think I need not mention my love affair with the guitar.  If you have read any of my earlier posts it comes across quite evident.  When one ages, we tend to acquire more things.  From the previous spoken love, I started collecting guitars.  The true guitar behind the 1976 stratocaster is actually a 1964 Fender Jaguar.

I love the off-set shape of the jaguar and wanted a vintage one.  This preceded me learning the valuable lesson of "never buy a guitar on eBay".  I was misled by this online dealer that I decided to attempt to acquire a jaguar from.  Vintage City Music out of Lansing, MI sold me an "all original" guitar.  Jaguars are known to be complex instruments.  When I received it I couldn't figure it out.  The bridge pick up seemed dead.  I called up Guitar Showcase and they pointed me toward the direction of Mark Brown, whom I am forever indebted to in the guitar buying world.  I took the guitar right over to Mark.  He told me that the neck had been refinished, possible fret job, new reproduction tuners and the neck pick up needed to be rewound.  All in all about $700 worth of work to get it up to snuff.  I said, "ah, I got ripped off" and Mark so eloquently replied, "How much did you pay for this guitar? $2500.  You didn't get ripped off, with the work you would have a $3200 guitar, about the price of a vintage jaguar in good condition."  I love his thought philosophy.

The jaguar story does have a good ending.  They had a 24 hr. return policy, and honored it as "24 hr. business days" and took the guitar back with me paying the shipping.  Now I had cash burning a whole in my pocket.

60s Smugglin' Pat

The cosmos must of aligned wanting me to have, our family friend, Pat Ryan's 1976 black stratocaster.  I met Pat through my uncle Craig.  This guy was a real character; boisterous laugh and parrot on his shoulder.  Pat had a rough go at the end of his life.  He lost his wife, Carol, from a obscure ailment and this sent him into an unfortunate tailspin.  He couldn't hold down a job leading to a depressed & broke dude.  He stated it was his buddhist teachings that made him want to get rid of all of his prized possessions and live a simple life.  Looking back on it now and think he was just preparing for the ending.  Unfortunately Pat took his own life at the age of 58.

80s Jammin' (note Blackie in the background)

Before the end, he approached me about buying his 1976 Black on Black Stratocaster.  It was in good shape with just the tuners being changed.  He wanted $1900 for it.  I was flush with the return cash of the jaguar.  I wanted a vintage instrument and the opportunity to try and help a buddy out.  I did give him the caveat that if he ever wanted his Strat back, I would give it to him for the money I paid.  He said he would not be wanting it back.  An unfortunate truth.  This is the story of how I am in possession of a beautiful 1976 Stratocaster.  He said he bought it because David Gilmour of Pink Floyd fame played one.  But he said he never played it that much because he was much more of a Gibson man.  I understood this philosophy because I am more of the opposite.  I love Fender guitars.  And this one was a beauty, right down to the instruction manual and extra springs.  I did have Mark Brown set it up for me and the tone pots needed replacing and I also had him put back on the original tuners.  It plays and looks great.  See for yourself...

 

 

 

And this is how it sounds......

Patrick Joseph Ryan 1951-2009

Victor || The Film Dude in San Jose || circa 2007

Inspiration is the reason we breath.  So when one writes a song they can only look as far as the air that they are breathing.  The small, subtle music scene in downtown San Jose back 2007 was part of my muse.  There was one character that always stood out; a guy named Victor.  You could spot him pretty clearly, a man of short stature with no hair on top, glasses and mustache.  He did not try to fit in because he couldn't.  I love Victor for that.  Most important, there was a freshness toward music that he took in.  It was very inspiring.


I met Victor at the Caravan one night back in 2007 and I got as much of his story that he would divulge to a complete stranger on some random night.  He was videotaping some band (usually with a women in it) and I started talking to him.  He told me that he just does it for kicks.  Bands don't pay him.  He doesn't really promote it.  Had barely even heard of Youtube back then and just loved to tape the performances of bands he liked.  I asked him if he'd seen our band and he replied yeah, "I saw you guys at Johnny V's back in January.  There was supposed to be some surf band from Spain you were opening up for but they didn't show.  I thought you guys really rocked.  I was bummed my battery ran out on the first band."  I told him when we were playing next and he showed and caught on tape some classic original "The Booty Cheterfield Trio" footage with Pickle on bass and Blue on drums.  One of our best performances at the time with full comedic routine and one, Joe Izzo, out in the crowd giving away T-Shirts.  Here are some highlights I decide to put up on Youtube:

This one is some recently uploaded old footage that Film Dude recorded for us back in 2008.  Recollecting back, it was a really fun night with a pretty full bar.


This is a portion of the song we wrote for Film Dude Victor.  We wanted to right a straightforward punk rock song that typified his attitude toward live rock and roll.  You can find a version of it on our first album, Sellin' Cookies.


And this last one is my favorite.  At about 10 seconds into the clip, the video pans around and you can see Film Dude Victor sporting a Booty Chesterfield T-shirt and dancing like nobodies business to the tunes.  What else can I say?  Like is about having fun....and FDV is doing just that!

What Happens to Pickle's First Love? || '82 CAR Fender Stratocaster '62 reissue || Old Guitars

I love old guitars. New guitars have no soul...yet. But old guitars tell stories. They tell tales of old smoke-filled dive bars with remnants of beer splattering encased in between rusty screws and beat up pick ups. They have performed. And that is the reason why we love instruments so much; it is in their performance. So give me the most beat up ugly guitar and that is a guitar that has been truly loved by an owner. It is the 30 year old guitars in pristine condition that scare me. If that guitar sat around and wasn't played, that's telling me something. That is the story of a guitar that never found the right tone for someone.

This brings me to Sweet Pickle's (aka Mr. Laflen to some, key axe wielder in Them Slack Jawed Sons of Bitches as well as life-long member of The Ex-Old Ladies) 1982 Candy Apple Red AVRI '62 Stratocaster. No one sees this guitar much lately, but I am lucky enough to currently have it on loan and in my possession. For that reason I decided to snap some pictures of this beauty and tell it's tale via Sweet P.

This guitar, 1982 Candy apple red Fullerton reissue strat, was my main axe with my old bands in the 90's, The Lowdown(funk-rock) , Big Joe(alt-country), the Money Shot and SpaceFish(hippy Jam band). I have some great pics somewhere.

So I purchased this guitar somewhere in the mid-90's. A time I refer to when I was in Tucson as 'the lost weekend'.

I had a fullerton black maple necked reissue stolen from my house in the Sam Hughes district near the University of AZ. I loved that guitar and I was crushed to come home and find it missing. My band practiced in the house so it was easy for the wolves to figure out there was an electric guitar to be had. I came home to find the input jack of the guitar still attached to the cord meaning they grabbed my guitar and literally ran out the back door with it. The only thing left was the jack of the guitar as a memory of my own blackie. No insurance. So... I looked in our weekly paper and in the newspaper and found a Red reissue strat for sale for 550 bucks. The guy was freshly married and clearly on a new path. He pulled the perfect condition strat literally from under the bed where it was stored. I played it and new it'd be the one. I think I ended up paying 500 but can't recall. We were both happy with the deal. I still do not recall how I got the money for this guitar back then as I was as poor as everyone else with pickup jobs and par-time work while I was going to school.

I primarily used this guitar with a 4-10 bassman, vintage rat pedal, cs-9 chorus and Boss DD-2 delay. It served me well and the neck pickup is amazing.

That is the story on this beauty, now let's look at some pictures of this true relic.  And next time, you see him on stage make sure to ask Pickle where the hell is the red strat!

Building a Custom Guitar

The guitar has been a big part of my life. Some of my earliest memories were my Dad strumming a beat up six string on our ugly green couch on Saturday mornings along with the likes of Jimmy Buffet and Jackson Browne. The instrument captured my imagination and it has been a big part of my life ever since. Last year I traded a Les Paul for a Fender AVRI '52 Telecaster. I had always wanted a tele and the LP I had just never played right. It was a beautiful guitar; it just didn't speak to me. Along with the trade the gentleman has swapped out all the electronics for "boutique parts". I decided that I wanted a Tele that sounded like a '52 Tele so I swapped all the parts back. I was planning on selling the parts on Craiglist. Then my father came over. He picked up the '52 and gave it a strum and said, "oh, this feels so good and sounds so nice" all while a big grin developed on his mug. I decided then and there to give him the guitar. I had several electric guitars and this man of 61 years had never owned an electric guitar.

It's now his, but I still wanted a Telecaster. I decided I would build one with the left over electronics. I bought a used Fender Highway One Telecaster Body in flat black off eBay. I bought some sonic blue paint off ReRanch and painted that body a nice 50s color in my shed. I really wanted this to be a family project so I asked if my brother (who's an artist that goes by the name of Mateo)to custom paint me the body. We settled on a price and I happened to take the freshly painted body up to Pullman, WA when I went up to attend opening night his first solo exhibit last May at WSU. While there we talked about ideas, concepts, etc. I really wanted to have him experiment with it. Then he showed me a sketch of a kid on a bicycle riding through an old 50s neighborhood with cap guns 'a blarin'. I said, "That's how I feel". We agreed this was to be the theme.

Meanwhile I bought a Warmoth Jazzmaster neck with a modern radius (thanks Spike, I love it). I refinished the neck with the advice coming from a great woodworker, named Dennis. I learned a lot about not buying stains and lacquers from Home Depot. Then I waited. And waited. Art takes time and my brother is an artist. When I finally received the body, it blew away expectations.

Assembling the guitar was achieved all the while holding my breath. I am not great at soldering electronics. I did have to take it apart a few times for pickup adjustment and to knock out a hum it had. Once that badboy was grounded it sang great. I believe it just slide into the number one position in my collection.

Here is how it sounds:

...and...parts is parts:
Body purchased on eBay


Neck after applying stain and finish


Also, note the package of tuners on the couch. While mounting those on the neck I did smash my left index finger with a mallet. I do not recommend doing this. It hurt like hell.

Body painted Sonic Blue. The flash really weirded out the color.



Finished Product




Here is Dad on the Green Couch Strumming a Guitar


Here is Dad on someone else's couch strumming a guitar. I am the kid on the couch and my brother is on the floor


Here is my Brother on the Green Couch. Look how ugly it is! Note: Guitar really close to the Green Couch


And one comical one of Ronnie Bahama just for laughs. Never shy to ham it up for the camera!