Chapter 2: Road Revival

Roadshow. Just the sound of the word gets the blood pumping. Now don't get me wrong, I'm no virgin to the road; but this is a gig in Austin, arguably the center of the music world - at least Texas thinks so. If you've ever been there for SXSW or Austin City Limits, it's difficult to deny. Besides the roadshow thing and the Austin thing, it's also a CD release thing, which puts it into a whole other thing category - the high pressure thing. By that I mean it's our opportunity and responsibility to make an impression; new look, new songs, new sound, and new guitar player who still hasn't logged much time with the group. On top of that we've got to get press and draw a crowd - no easy feat for a Dallas band. Shit, now I'm just scared.

Keyboardist Brian Girard won't be making the trip with us. His other band, the Transcenders, already had a gig booked for this night, thus he will be spared my stinging commentary(temporarily). Not as fortunate, bass player Trae Doss has to work till 3:00 and will be cruising down solo later in the day. He's a hair stylist training to be a colorist, and to do so you apparently have to sell yourself into salon slavery for a year or more. Typically, slave masters aren't very understanding when it comes to taking time off, especially on the busiest day of the week, so out-of-town shows are always a little shaky. That leaves Mr. Aloof(Jayson), G-Spot(Greg) and Prince(me - I'll explain later) to blaze the trail; a fitting analogy since Jayson's SUV is about the same size as a covered wagon, and every available square inch is crammed with equipment and animals. The trip is pretty uneventful in itself, except for the merciless verbal thrashing I receive for not being able to work the ipod properly(this band should be called Dog Pile).

The first rule of thumb after a long day of trail-blazing is to find shelter, which proves to be somewhat of a challenge since someone aloofly left his directions at home. However, his trusty cell phone comes to the rescue and a half hour later we're pulling into the Somerfield Suites Hotel, a quiet, extremely well hidden, former apartment complex(circa 1984) that will function as Austin HQ for the night. Jayson goes to workout(allegedly) while Greg and I flip through the myriad of nothing on TV and make fun of the room decor - very rock 'n' roll! Jayson returns (very)shortly and we get dressed and head out for the ritual pre-show meal. Now let me take a moment here to toss out a little gratuitous imagery for your reading pleasure; allow me to borrow stylistically from Brett Easton Ellis a la American Psycho and describe the look everybody's throwing down for this pivotal occasion. El Jefe de Revival and focal point, Jayson Bales has boldly chosen to go with the edgy faded, plain black, long-sleeved t-shirt with jeans and scuffed Justin work-boots, strangely familiar yet remarkably the same as he wore to the Dallas CD release - I believe understated continuity is the theme here. The G-Spot, true to his creed, has elected to go with what I call the top-half look; that is, wearing a trendy shirt(in this case faux-western by Ross) with little or no regard for the bottom half since he's sitting down behind the drums - practical, frugal and let's face it, if you can get a drummer to wear any more than a pair of running shorts, you're ahead of the game. Finally, the diamond among stones, I am going beyond a fashion statement and making a fashion holler; I mean come on, this is Austin and this is a CD release, right? I ceremoniously don my signature purple, 70's ruffled tuxedo shirt(untucked of course) with black jacket and vintage cowboy boots, tastefully accessorized with various bracelets and necklaces... okay, insert Prince jokes and Purple Rain selections here... and here... oh, and here... Truly, a more motley crew you've never witnessed. We dine, debate over whether or not our hot Asian waitress(who thought my shirt was cool) is wearing a bra, ponder the heretofore absence of our bass player and go to Jovita's.

It's about 9:30 P.M., opening band Household Names is on their last song, and we're all standing in the Jovita's parking lot wondering where Trae is. Well, that's not quite accurate; we know where he is(his car), we're really wondering if he'll make it here in time to play the gig with us. Jayson is nervous, which is rare, considering all he has to worry about. Also, the crowd is a little thin - thank God Household Names drew pretty well. It's beginning to look like one of those nights when, despite all your planning and preparation, things are slowly beginning to unravel and your fear is transitioning from the qualitative will something go wrong, to the quantitative how wrong will things go. I'm starting to have a deja vu moment, as if I'm in a cliche movie about some made-up rock band and we're all poised at the critical juncture in the story, the audience holding their breath and choking throw-pillows. Then, the distant rumble of a 1973 Datsun 240Z and a familiar headlight pattern(I don't know how) slowly come into focus; now the throbbing crescendo of Trae's Spanish inspired theme song(Conquistador by Procol Harem), "Conquistador your stallion's waiting..." and he pulls into the hot lights of the parking lot. We all exhale simultaneously like air brakes on a semi, the long door swings open and up pops the Trizz, smiling ear to ear like there was never any doubt of his celebrity-timed entrance, basking fully, if only briefly in the warmth of communal relief. He coolly takes one last pull on his cigarette, flicks the butt and heads for the back door mumbling something about a big accident in Waco. While Greg and I keep Jayson from murdering our prodigal bass player, Trae hits the john, the bar and is on stage with a drink and freshly lit cigarette ready to roll - and rock and roll we do. Despite the disappointing crowd size, we play a blowout show and make the most of the evening. I'm beginning to believe that I actually play better to smaller, less attentive audiences; obviously a situation I've long grown accustomed to in my lengthy and less-than-illustrious career - amazing how the human body adapts.

I'd like to tell you that the much heralded(mostly by noted party-monger Jayson) after-party was equally amazing, but that would be a horrific lie(no offense to accompanying participants). The fact is, we'd had a long day, are getting(already there in my case) somewhat long in the tooth and were plumb tuckered out. But, being the veteran showmen that we are, we mustered our last ounce of strength and adjourned to the legendary Donn's Depot - think much smaller version of (original)Gilley's with wood paneling. Needless to say, my Prince-look attracted some undue attention, but besides a few bewildered stares, the occasion was disappointingly sedate. Kudos to Mr. Bales who, though denying charges of alcoholic influence, sprightly climbed onto a loft over the ladies restroom in a valiant attempt to save our reputation... and for a unique photo-op. Donn(yep - two n's) was not amused and curtly invited Jayson to get down or get out. And thus ended the Revival's storied sack and pillage of Capitol City - Austin will never be the same... neither will Donn.

Chapter 1: The Cast

I'm the new guy in the band. I hate being the new guy. It's very uncomfortable because if you're not careful, you can quickly be downgraded to replaced guy, which is just humiliating. It's primarily an issue of boundaries and levels; that is, where you can and can't go and how much or how little you need, and of course, how quickly you figure all that out. No amount of orientation can give you the answers, it's just trial and error under a microscope. That being said, it does give you a unique, somewhat unbiased perspective as the outsider invited in, which I hope to use to my advantage in this blog.

First of all, I should tell you a (very)little about myself. I'm a 44 year old, newly married, freshly mortgaged, singer/songwriter/guitarist(not necessarily in that order) who's been chasing the Loch Ness Monster that is music for about 15 years, give or take. For the majority of that time, I've had my own band or performed solo, with varying degrees(mostly below freezing) of success. It has challenged me in ways I could never have imagined and it is truly a curse as much as it is a blessing. But over the years, I've made my peace with Nessie and accepted who I am and what I do and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The obvious place to begin the curtain pulling is with the band itself. I met Jayson Bales, or Mr. Aloof as he's affectionately known to us, about two years ago through Greg Fontanillas. The man is a walking, talking contradiction. He looks like a banker, talks like a professor, grew up in a cultural black hole called Waco, has a wife and 3 kids in University Park, drives a Suburban, worships baseball and rarely(if ever) picks up his guitar between gigs. Yet, he's got an ipod full of indie bands I've never heard of, 4 cds of his own annoyingly catchy tunes, gets absolutely giddy on road trips where he can indulge his sad addiction to Dairy Queen, plays his guitar too loud, motivates veteran musicians(including myself) to follow him like Jesus and never forgets a chord or lyric. A more diabolical case of satanic soul selling I cannot recall. And, he’s got that voice. You know, the James Earl Jones voice that no one can resist and everyone trusts; whether he’s singing you a story or selling you a story – you are buying, my friend. His saving grace is that he’s genuinely a good guy and frequently takes the long(and expensive) way home, selflessly putting others before himself… or so it appears… damn that’s evil.

Greg Fontanillas is the drummer and by far the best musician in the Revival. In fact, he’s the only real musician in that he’s had professional training(P.I.T.) on his instrument and always knows what he’s doing, which I find extremely intimidating since I rarely know what I’m doing. To make matters worse, he’s a jazzer at heart and that puts him on some other plane of consciousness filled with crazy nicknames and unusual time signatures. Because of his superior knowledge and his cruel drumsticks, Greg is the heavy when it comes to enforcing technical discipline and let me tell you brother, he likes it crisp(snap!). He also likes it uncomfortable, with a quirky(and distressing) fondness for creating tense situations with ill-timed, inappropriate remarks and gestures… or, he really is in love with me. However the strangest thing about the G-Man to me is his dogged loyalty to this band, despite his abundant talent and the incessant demand for it – a virtue practically unheard of in a drummer and further evidence of Jayson’s hell-spawned influence.

Trae Doss… I hesitate to use the term bass player because he is so much more… backing vocalist, songwriter, hair stylist, babe magnet and let’s face it, he is the visual show. Trae is the consummate performer, whether he’s playing an arena or a backyard barbecue – full throttle is his only speed! And, I have to admit that it’s a nice(and necessary) contrast to Jayson’s more reserved stage presence. But alas, he is a man out of his time… a time when your hair said more than your songs(which were all about 17 year old girls), guitar headstocks were pointy and extensive stretching was a must before each show. I boldly maintain that if Trae Doss had been behind the mic fronting Bon Jovi, Warrant, Poison, White Lion, etc. where he was meant to be, the music world would be very different today. I can’t help but wonder what mysterious force drives him to soldier on in the Revival, where kicking out the jams(literally) and ripping off your shirt is frowned upon; but I guess “every rose has its thorn”… and a dark controlling power of questionable origin.

I don’t know too much about new keyboardist Brian Girard yet, except that he’s patient, reliable, newly engaged and therefore in the midst of planning a wedding(God help him). He plays with at least 3 other very different bands and I am in awe of his ability to mentally catalogue and execute such an assortment of musical information – the man is versatile, to say the least. Brian also has this Andrew McCarthy vibe working. At first, he seems like a fresh-faced, conservative college guy, but upon closer inspection you notice that his hair’s a tad long with that rakish sweep over one eye, his clothes are subtly askew, and his easy smile is slightly cynical – he probably listens to the Dead and has indulged a time or two at a wild party, but deep down he’s a good person who cares; just a kid trying to plow through the John Hughes angst with a minimum of collateral damage. Chicks dig that. Oh, one other point of interest: he works with Jayson at his day-job… very suspicious.