What's Wrong With Steve?

Steve,

The other day my 10 month old daughter and I were watching a Crowes concert dvd. I had one of my acoustic guitars and was playing along, and she was playing along on her toy banjo. Everything was going well until your drum solo starts at which point she crawls over to the t.v., stands up against it, starts repeating “papa, papa”, and starts kissing the screen.

How do you explain this?

Thanks,

Jennifer’s dad?

J.D.

Stop worrying.  Of course you are Jennifer’s dad!

Well, come to think of it, I have no idea if that’s true.  It IS true, however, that Jennifer’s dad is NOT me.  So, there’s that.

Your concern is understandable, but I think you can relax on this one.

I am no Dr. Spock, but I am quite confident that little Jennifer wasn’t trying to say “That’s my Papa!”.  No, not at all.  She was trying to say “I wish that guy playing drums was my Papa!”.

See?  No biggie!

SG

Dear Steve,

I am trying to steal the identity of Chris Robinson and was wondering if you could help me out with his social security # ?

Also if you were on a raft in the ocean with room for one more person on there, and both Chris and Rich were swimming towards you…who would drown?

Sincerely,

Nathan

Nathan

Chris’s SSN?  No problem: 666-66-6666.

As for the raft scenario:  They’d both drown, hands tightly clenched around each other’s throats, long before I’d have to make the gut wrenching decision you have conjured up.

Oh sure, I’d pretend to be paddling in their direction (in the same way one pretends to be searching for the “Open” button on an elevator when someone says “Hold the door!”) but in truth the raft would be, if anything, drifting slowly away from their epic struggle at sea.  It’s been years since I thrust myself into the middle of one of their little donnybrooks and I can’t imagine doing so again now, with lives literally on the line and no terra firma in play.

On the off chance that Chris and Rich weren’t fighting each other, but were instead helping each other towards the raft in a wholly unexpected show of familial teamwork, I have to admit that the result would still be the same.  You see, I am well aware that if they did make it to the raft together, the one treading water shortly thereafter would be yours truly.

So, I’d simply keep paddling away from them, making sure to appreciate all that extra legroom as I await rescue.  I mean, it would really suck if my aging, sports worn knees were all locked up when that Coast Guard chopper finally showed up, know what I mean?

SG

Steve

I recently dug out my copy of “Who Killed That Bird Out On Your Window Sill” for a viewing and I was wondering something.  What’s up with that haircut you had back then?  The only thing I can think of is that it was either a horrible accident, you were tired of your hair being in your eyes while bringing the thunder, you wanted to take a mullet to the next level, or you lost a bet.  Which is it?

Love the new album and I’m looking forward to the Grand Rapids – Chicago – Milwaukee leg of the tour.

Mike

Mike

That haircut, I now realize with the benefit of hindsight, was a cry for help.  I can’t possibly explain, in a sensible and linear fashion, just exactly how being on tour for 18 months straight led me to shave the front half of my head, grow a goatee, and start wearing eyeliner, but suffice it to say that I was in a fragile state as we rolled through Europe as the opening act on the Monsters of Rock Tour in the summer of 1991.  I had felt for a few months that I was approaching the end of my rope, and was worried on a daily basis that I was about to snap.

The butcher job in question went down on a night off in Frankfurt, after I had casually gone through a few (as in, 30 or so) beers during an otherwise calm evening.  I remember walking into Johnny’s hotel room and discovering four members of a local biker gang playing cards, drinking copious amounts of bourbon, brandishing large knives, and just generally being WASTED MEMBERS OF A GERMAN BIKER GANG without my having any understanding of who they were or why they were there.

Some agitated looks were exchanged between the bikers, a few of my drunken attempts at ice-breaking humor were misinterpreted, some (clearly) angry words in German were muttered, panic ensued, and suddenly I was in locked in Johnny’s bathroom giving myself a reverse Mohawk.  That, sadly, is about as clearly as I can explain it.

Within a few moments, I realized I needed a little help to finish whatever it was I had started, and Johnny (who had thankfully convinced me to unlock the bathroom door and let him in) suggested we knock out the entire front half, leave it long in the back, and go with, in his words, “a Manchurian bodyguard” look.  And Mike, for what it’s worth, that seemed like a FANTASTIC idea at the time.

Mission accomplished, I stumbled back to my room and passed out fully clothed on the floor.  (Good times!)

I awoke a few hours later to discover that I did now in fact resemble, well, a Manchurian bodyguard.  I had no choice but to embrace the situation, and before long I had enhanced it with the aforementioned goatee and eyeliner.

Much to my pleasant surprise, the angst and pressure I had been feeling for months dissipated almost immediately.  It was as if I had become someone else, and could start over with a clean slate.

I noticed something kind of funny, too – people on the street recoiled from me as if they were worried I might attack them.  I enjoyed that.  I added a full length leather trench coat to the look and spent the final few months of the tour in character, so to speak, scowling and being a fairly menacing presence at all times.  I started to enjoy myself again.  It turned out to be a very healthy thing to have done.

The tour ended soon enough, and I raced home to Atlanta to unwind and reconnect with all the friends that I hadn’t seen much of in two years.  Almost immediately, I realized that Europe on tour was Europe on tour, Atlanta was again my reality, and in that reality, I looked like a complete idiot.

I shaved the back half of my head and that snappy, clean cut SHAMC look was hatched, which of course led most people to assume that the band had a new drummer.  But, that’s a different story for a different day.

SG

Ahh, memories!

Steve

Greetings from the banks of the mighty Wabash (Lafayette, IN).

I have quite the quandary:  My best friend and his wife are expecting a baby next month. On top of the obligatory gifts we are sending their way, I am compiling some quality tunes for the wee one to be. Of course, I have essentials like Blackbird (Beatles), Moonshadow (Cat Stevens), Bron-Yr-Aur (Led Zeppelin), Into the Mystic (Van Morrison) and California Stars (Wilco). But, with the Crowes being my favorite band, I must include classics from your musical library of genius. Any suggestions for songs that are baby safe? I am guessing Horsehead is right out.

Peace,

JS

JS

I wouldn’t rule out “Horsehead” necessarily.  That child won’t pick up on the drug infused lyrical content for at the very least a decade, which is far longer than you can expect anyone to hang onto a CD that you burn for them – whether or not the Black Crowes are included on the playlist.  (And let’s face it, that drum track won’t hurt anyone, in utero or not.)

Off the top of my head, I can offer two of our tunes as suggestions that might be appropriate:

1)  “Sleepyheads”.  It’s an unreleased song we recorded around 2000, I think.  I am sure you could track down a copy from someone somewhere.  Not the greatest song ever, to be sure, but Chris wrote the lyrics for Rich’s two boys.  So, that’s kinda sweet and most definitely kid friendly.

2)  “Cosmic Friend”.  I have no idea what the hell this song is about, frankly.  What I do know is that at the end of the tune you can hear my son (as a three month old) screaming his little lungs out.  I gotta think that a brand new baby will be able to relate to whatever he was trying to express.

Best to all involved,

SG

Hey Steve

Why not stop by the Green Mill before the show on Friday?

Old Al Capone bar, half a block down from the Riv. Blind guy on the organ. Always a good primer for a great Crowes show.

BCM

BCM

Why not?  I’ll tell you why not – I did that once before when we played the Riv, and the blind guy on the organ made a new friend that night called the blind drunk guy on the drum kit.  I stumbled out of that joint and made a beeline straight to the stage and believe me when I say that it wasn’t pretty.

Live and learn, my man.

I sincerely appreciate the offer, though.  Cheers!

SG

Steve

Cats or dogs, which is the superior animal?

Keep on keepin’ on….

Beth

Beth

Dogs.

Please don’t write back asking for an explanation.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

The plan has long been to keep on keepin’ on, so no worries there.

SG

Hi Steve,

I’m a miserable soul.  I have been a Cubs fan since before I was born.  Since before my father was born.  I don’t hold a grudge against my grandfather for doing this to my family but I can’t help think “what if he would have lived on the South Side?” I am coming to terms that they will never win a World Series much less a pennant.  My father tried to come to terms a couple decades ago.  As a young, naive child I tried to tell him that it wouldn’t always be this way.  He would laugh at me and say “you’ll see, you’ll see, those Bums will always let you down”.  I wonder why my father instilled this horrible affliction of being a Cubs fan on me if he knew this is how it was going to be.  Is my father cruel?  Did I do something to my mother prior to being born that made him upset?  How do I change what’s been instilled in me since the day I was born?  How does one go about reversing instinct?  How do I make my heart be a Yankee fan?  Nevermind that last one.

Please help!

BP

BP

BP, as your experience sadly affirms, child abuse comes in many forms.

Some parents kick it old school with dramatic belt removals followed by furious spankings.

Others stay current and cutting edge by regularly saying things like “I am so sorry that Santa Claus didn’t get you what you wanted – let’s go to the mall and see if we can’t make this all better”.

Either way, the child in question is sure to develop some troubling emotional damage.

But, there’s another form of child abuse that can be just as damaging and confusing.

Sports Team Fan Transference. Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?  And as you know so well, it is horrible.

And yet, it happens every day in this great land of ours.  Like all other forms of emotional abuse, it’s a cyclical epidemic that can only be stopped when one, such as yourself, has the courage to confront it.

Your father, like his father before him, wasn’t a cruel man.  He simply did the best he could with the tools that he was given.  And sadly for you, the sledge hammer in his “emotional tool box” was a little baseball club called the Cubs.

But you, BP, are not your father.  You are not your grandfather.  You are BP, and maybe one day (if not already) you will be a father yourself.  And that’s where your healing has to begin.

I’ll bottom line it for you:  you’re screwed.  It’s too late for you.  You’re a Cubs guy and you’ll stay a Cubs guy.  Got it?

Your sole release from this pain has to come from the next generation.  Pledge to yourself right now that you won’t stamp this curse upon your own children’s souls.  Promise to let them pick and choose their own teams.  Give your children the freedom you are longing for.

Might they also choose the Cubs and enter a lifetime of suffering?  Sure, they might.  But, having made that choice for themselves it will be easier for them to reconsider down the road and find a new team without all the guilt you are experiencing.  They won’t feel like they are betraying their old man.  They won’t feel like they owe it to anyone to stay with a perennial loser.  They won’t consider jumping on the Yankees bandwagon, which more than anything else illustrates the depths of your misery.

They won’t feel, in short, like you, BP.

And that’s a gift that’ll keep on giving.

I thank you, on their behalf, in advance.

SG

Hi Steve

I’m having trouble timing the intro to Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll” properly and figure a swinging cat like you is qualified to shine a light on this persnickety riddle.  If I stand on one foot and count backwards from sixteen and a half in Norse…will that help?  I hate to bother you with this, but next weekend I’m subbing with a country band whose songlist includes the tune and don’t want to hack my way through it.

Thanks,

Smitty

Smitty

Assuming you have the requisite wrist strength on the left side to successfully emulate the pattern, you needn’t count backwards in Norse, or light a candle every September 25, or re-read The Hobbit, or do any of the many well intentioned but ultimately useless things drummers do when looking for help with this deceptively difficult intro.

Here’s the trick – don’t worry about it.   As soon as the audience hears that open high hat with the rumbling freight train snare work take off, they will realize immediately what song it is, start to cheer,  and you’ll be off the hook.

The onus is then on your bandmates to come in on a beat that makes sense.  If they don’t, and a train wreck ensues, you can always remind them that the crowd was going nuts until they messed it up.

Band politics 101.

SG

Hey Steve,

Long time fan. Saw you guys with Joan Jett and Aerosmith in Miami in 1990,  I think.

Here’s my question- I’ve recently been playing The Beatles: Rock Band and I’m realizing more now just how different Ringo was as a drummer.

His playing is pretty simple and very connected to the songs, yet less intuitive than a lot of subsequent rock drummers.

I can’t really put my finger on why, but learning the tunes is actually kinda difficult.

Any thoughts?

Spencer

San Francisco, CA

Spencer

First things first – I don’t remember ever having played a show in Miami with Aerosmith and Joan Jett.

We certainly did some shows with Aerosmith in 1990, but none were anywhere near Miami.

And, as much as we do in fact love rock n’ roll, we never were party to anyone putting another dime in any jukebox, baby, either.

So, with that cleared up, let’s move on:

Ringo Starr’s drumming is infallible, untouchable, and he is quite simply the greatest drummer in the history of rock n roll music.

So, there’s that.

With this in mind, it would stand to reason that you might struggle to learn his parts, even on so rudimentary a level as Rock Band provides.  I will resist the urge to write an endless screed about why Ringo’s drumming is beyond reproach and instead offer a quick “Q and A” to examine your specific points.

Q)  Was Ringo actually “different as a drummer”?

A)  Was Magic Johnson “different as a point guard“?  Was Frank Lloyd Wright “different as an architect”?  You bet your ass.  As much as people try to disparage Ringo’s playing, no one ever seems to have a suggestion as to what drummer would have made those recordings better.  And that’s because there was not, is not, and never will be, a drummer more perfectly suited for the Beatles.

Q)  Was his playing “pretty simple and connected to the songs”?

A)  If by “pretty simple”, you mean “pretty perfect” and if by “connected to the songs”, you mean, “integral to the execution of these rock n’ roll masterpieces”, then the answer is a resounding YES.

Q)  Was Ringo “less intuitive” than a lot of subsequent rock drummers?

A)  Absolutely not.   Few if any drummers in rock history have been more intuitive.  Ringo understood exactly what every song needed to have, and bear in mind he was working with not one, but three songwriters.

Q)  Any thoughts?

A)  Yes.  Don’t argue with me about this.  I know what I know.

I love John Bonham, Charlie Watts, Phil Rudd, and the nutjob from Wilco (and about a million other drummers) as much as anyone could.  They are all perfect for their bands.  They are all irreplaceable.  But Ringo was in THE BEATLES.

Check the scoreboard.

Ringo wins.

SG

Dearest Steve,

Color me impressed with your Iago reference in a recent piece of sage

advice. I’m a high school English teacher; it will be really helpful to be

able to tell these adolescents that since guys like Steve Gorman think

reading is cool, then damn it, they should too. What are some of your

favorite tomes that have kept you occupied on those long trips on the road?

Any books you think high schoolers would dig? Keep on keeping on.

Freaky Tall Guy from Boston

Dearest FTGFB

You aren’t Robert Parrish, are you?  Because if you are, then feel free to color me impressed right back at ya, big man!

Either way, I am happy to report that I do in fact find reading “cool”.  I also find it to be a necessary skill, hobby, or passion for anyone who envisions spending years of their life locked inside a tour bus surrounded by all the standard hoopla of a rock n roll band on the road.

Few things free the soul, cleanse the spirit, and stir inspiration like a great book.

I am currently reading “Ironweed” by William Kennedy, “Facing the Music” by Larry Brown, and “The Family”, by Jeff Sharlet.

Hunter S. Thompson is a constant presence in my life, and I have decided that anything Michael Chabon, Matt Taibbi, or Chuck Klosterman writes is worth reading at least twice.

Feel free to pass this list on to your students.  They should be able to handle any of this stuff.

(Also, rest assured, my feelings won’t be hurt if you think it will impress your students more by saying you got this list from one of the Black Eyed Peas.  I saw them in an airport once…I don’t think they’d mind.)

SG