The Magnificent Seven Approach

Green On Red purchasing fishing poles at Woolworth in Eugene. (Photo by Chris Metzler)

Where’d we leave off? Dan Stuart has a new book out. And a few days back we talked about it on my radio show. 

Yeah, the olden days.

You'd hardly recognize the Green on Red crew now. Chris Cacavas continues to play and make records. I last saw him here in San Francisco playing keys with The Dream Syndicate. Jack Waterson runs his Hollywood music shop and also still plays and acts as consiglieri to up-and-comers. Dan Stuart made a few more records. One with my compinches, the great Twin Tones in Mexico City, and another notable one with Al Perry (more on him in a minute) before he swore off the whole music business racket. He's gone full circle and returned to Tucson where he has his dermatologist on speed dial from years of playing golf in the Desert. Gotta give Leatherface Dan credit, though; he’s carried on writing, and just published his third book. The final installment of his Marlowe trilogy, Marlowe’s Revenge. As Dan says, read the blurbs, they can’t all be lying.

As for Green On Red. You see, back in 2007 (or was it 2005?) we got back together and did some reunion shows. With the original line-up or what we came to refer to as The Godfather I line-up. That band had imploded back in 1987 in Athens, Greece. We were running on fumes at that point anyway and after an incident that involved a snapped neck on a Gretsch Country Gentleman, recriminations were flying back and forth and we cancelled the final show of the tour at the Astoria in London. We wouldn’t play together again until after a decade or two passed. And incidentally, we did make up that Astoria date. Sure, there was The Godfather II lineup that picked up after Athens and went on for another half dozen LP's and world tours. That was just Danny and me and a revolving cast of players.

The Godfather I era reunion was orchestrated by Dave Slutes to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Club Congress in Tucson. 

Not sure how it all came together with that Tucson reunion gig. I suspect Slutes took the whole The Magnificent Seven approach. After you get the first recruit on board, the rest will follow after hearing of the first guys involvement. 

Whatever he did, it worked. My answer was swift and to the point: 

Count 

   Me 

      In. 

The 20th anniversary of the Club Congress was a cluster-lunch. In the best way. As far as the founding fathers of Desert Rock go, never will you find quite the murderers row of fuck-ups all in one place. I should qualify this by saying some of Tucson's biggest drug-addled screw ups, including Dan Stuart, Van Christian and Billy Sedlmayr (two of those guys did real time) had fathers who were bankers and doctors and surgeons. But their offspring in many ways ended up a kind of lost generation. You can’t escape the criminal element there. The whole Tucson scene, where I've spent plenty of time, was a trip and a half. Still is. 

But let’s get back to the day of the reunion show. I’d flown into Tucson for the whole sh-bang. From the time I dragged myself out of bed at the Hotel Congress and made my way down those red carpeted steps to the Cup for breakfast, I could hear Hurricane Katrina updates pumping through the PA on the outdoor stage. It gave the festival a surreal vibe. I was keeping an ear on the updates because I was concerned about Alex Chilton, who I’d heard was on a missing list. He'd decided to stay put with his guitars and ride out Hurricane Katrina at home in New Orleans. Eventually he flagged down a helicopter from his roof and was air-lifted out of there.

It didn’t take long for the music to fire up. Al Perry aka "The Undertaker" aka "The Night Manager" aka "The Mayor of Tucson" kicked off the proceedings with his classic "We Got Cactus.” Various Calexico and Giant Sand incarnations and a mess of Tucson bands performed over the weekend. Special mention goes to Mission Express alum Winston Watson's former 80s outfit Gentleman After Dark, who in their day were a kind of Roq Of The 80s ready Brit Goth band. With nary a drop of Uncle Neil in the mix. Which went against type as far as Zonie guitar bands go. Oddly enough, that turned out to be the beginning of a kind of minor comeback for them. A few years later, one of the tracks from their 80’s heyday was picked up for Stranger Things and "blew up" as the kids say.

Stranger Things have happened. 

After a couple relaxed rehearsals where I think we were all pleasantly surprised how well we were playing, Green On Red closed out the celebration on the Sunday night with a set at the Rialto Theatre across the street. I recognized old faces in the crowd. People had flown in from all over creation to shout "Aspirin!" at us for old time’s sake, I guess.

Danny described the weekend as an experience "best left to those who'd climbed the mountain and talked to the elephant.”

Green On Red in San Antonio, Texas. October 1984.

After the show, on my way out of the theatre heading back to the hotel, the last thing I remember was a dozen not-quite-ready-to-go-homes standing around the Rialto lobby by the restrooms watching Doo Rag. Doo Rag is (or was?) a two-piece band that wore gas masks and piped their one chord psycho-blues through a vacuum cleaner hose. They set up guerrilla style in the ladies room. Hearing that racket bouncing off the yellow tiles of the ladies room was the last thing I remember crossing the street back to the hotel.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: That dude in Doo Rag is still at it. Bob Log III. Still hasn't taken off the helmet and wears like an astronaut suit. Goes all over the world. Imagine the smell.]

It really was too much fun. So when the word got out and some offers came in, Green On Red collectively couldn't resist going back out for some overseas festival dates. When we were in London rehearsing for our make-up show at the Astoria, I was on the lookout for content for my book when something caught my eye: one of those hotel surveys in my room. 

Yes, a book. That's not a typo. I wasn’t planning on getting into this, but I’m all about the side roads. At the time I was working on a book project, having hit the wall with what Ry Cooder calls the "Treadmill of horror." His analogy for the write/ record/ tour/ tour some more and repeat grind. I should mention that personally I thrived on the grind. And didn't find anything "horrific" about it. (Even airline food!). Or it seems like I did. I certainly never called it the "Treadmill of horror.” But things kind of sputtered out after the touring behind my Age Of Miracles LP in 2006. I was burnt. And somehow I felt like I'd had a good run. And maybe it would be a good time to think about doing something else. 

I had a deal with Chronicle Books to make a kind of art book documenting what happens during the 22 hours each day musicians aren't on stage. It was going to be a collection of photos, artifacts, hotel keys, gas station and Panera Bread receipts with scrawled lyrics, rants, diatribes, secret maps, and essays from touring musicians. Sort of like what the let-it-all-hang-out internet is today. 

The thinking was that whether you’re riding passenger-side in a battered Ford Econoline van with 300,000 miles on the odometer or at cruising altitude with a plush first-class window seat on a transatlantic flight, there’s not much difference. Either way, the road is where professional and personal lives collide and sparks fly.

How’s that for an elevator pitch? 

Green On Red [The Godfather I lineup] at the taping of Rockpalast in Germany

Having recently been dropped by New West, I figured I might try doing something else for a while. I figured wrong. Within a few months I had written some songs and with spec time at a studio here in San Francisco on Howard Street run by my friends Tim Mooney and JJ Wiesler, I was soon knee-deep in a new record. The record that became Soap and Water. And that lead to a deal with Yep Roc that's still going strong today. 

Meanwhile, Chronicle Books had a turnover of editors and my book was hanging in the balance. The innerwebs was fast approaching the concept I had in mind. I began to sense that it was an idea whose time had come and gone, now that the Internet was doing the same kind of mash-up. I looked at myself in the mirror one day and said, "You're not going to do this, are you?" And that was that. Of course my then manager Dan Kennedy, known in certain circles as "Iowa boy" for his honorable style, made sure I gave the advance back. Dammit!

So, back to that London hotel room, when The Godfather I line-up was still riding high on our soon-to-be-over reunion tour and I was still collecting stuff for my never-to-be book. I saw that hotel survey and I thought, Artifact! And then I thought what would make it an even better entry in the book is if Danny filled it out. He didn't disappoint. He’s a writing machine. That’s what I was going to say when I started this whole newsletter.

As far as Green On Red doing more gigs, it was fun for a while. But it didn't take long for us to bristle at the sight of e-mails from each other in our in-boxes. So before it became too much of a good thing, we gave it a rest. 

And we all agreed that those shows were somehow a good way to honor the memory of our fallen comrade, original drummer Alex MacNicol. Easily the nicest guy in the band. I should also mention that, more recently, original original drummer and Tucsonian Van Christian has also passed away. And Keith Mitchell, the drummer who succeeded Alex McNichol and later joined Mazzy Star has left the building as well. [Insert your Spinal Tap joke here]. 

I loved all those guys. And shared rooms and experiences that I'll never forget. And I guess that’s what I’ve been trying to get at this whole time. That and a nudge to seek out Dan’s book. It’s worth the seeking. Like this questionnaire, it’ll make you question… what exactly? Well, everything. 

                             -Chuck Prophet interviews Dan Stuart-

I've known Dan for years. We're brothers in many ways, but there are still things I don't know about Dan. His hopes, his dreams, his fears... so lacking any preparation, I decided I'd ask him questions from a Hotel Questionnaire. This took part on our reunion tour somewhere in South London.

Upon check-in, did you find our staff courteous and helpful?

I always enjoy a spray of spittle in my face after a long trip, it freshens me up. That they had seemed to have lost my reservation I found charming, even after thirty minutes.

Was your room clean and comfortable?

Yes, the blood splatter on the walls was Pollockesque and the splooge encrusted bedspreads a delight. Toe nail clippings left on the pillow was a nice touch. Who needs chocolate? The lack of fresh air reminded me of why I never want to be incarcerated, thank you very much.

Did you make use of our modern gym or the indoor pool?

Indeed! The lone Stairmaster with the missing step gave me great insight into the world of amputees. The bizarre rash I acquired from the algae encrusted cement pond will surely be appreciated by my dermatologist.

Was room service prompt and the food fresh and delicious?

Insofar as the front desk staff had to run next door to KFC to bring me my "authentic southern fried chicken" I understand the delay. Sadly, I never developed a taste for human hair although I was glad that the strands were long and straight and not short and curly... but that's just me.

Did the entertainment console in your room function properly?

Yes, bug wars and static were just the thing to help me drift off to sleep; waking up to MILF MIDGET'S 3 turned my morning wood back into putty thus saving me from blindness. Shouldn't I pay extra?

Overall, how would you rate our facility and would you recommend us to friends, family or business associates?

It takes real care and planning to provide such a unique experience. I left your hotel dazed and in a state of confusion about whether life is really worth living. I feel that my newly found depression might help me relate to others who have been traumatized by child abuse or the horrors of war. I certainly will recommend you to an old friend who currently lives with my first wife, as well as my lawyer who handed them the keys to my house. Ciao! house. Ciao! 

Dan and Chuck in London, 1988

Are you still here?

If so, a couple things occur to me. First, if you’re in San Francisco this weekend, we’ll be at The Chapel this Saturday with Red Meat supporting.

Also about the fine art of newslettering? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still making this up as I go. Why not become a paid subscriber today if you’re not already? If not, you can always donate to an abortion fund or any gun violence prevention group. They can ban abortions, but can’t seem to regulate guns. Maybe with your help we can turn this around.

You can also do none of the above and just carry on. We are happy to have you.

Onward,

    -CP