The Silos Part 3/The Tours

 

 

1988-89 In Search of a Record Deal Tour

  

The Locations: Northeast U.S. and Los Angeles, CA

The Band: Walter Salas-Humara (guitar, vocals), Bob Rupe (lead guitar, vocals), Brian Doherty (drums), Richard Ford (bass)

The Crew: Joe Chinnici (sound)

The Bass Player and More: As I mentioned in an earlier blog, Richard Ford was the one who got me involved with The Silos.  It was only after he left that the band would truly value his contribution and musicianship.  A real musician, he was a team player and cared a great deal about the music.  He also had the ability to encourage the rest of us, which always made our musical outcomes improve.  I can’t describe it any other way than to say that this guy believed in me. I felt that he had the ability to withhold musical judgment and would focus solely on my potential.  At about this time, Richard was also enduring a personal transformation that required his attention.  After about five months with the band, he announced that he would be leaving. 

Later in our careers, Richard would recommend me to many other bands including the B52’s.  He was generous with his business contacts and personally magnanimous.  Richard followed through on his personal quest and moved to Los Angeles. While travelling on tour, I always looked forward to visiting there.  We would share a passion for running and would go for long jogs from Venice Beach up the coast.  Years later, I had a conversation with Bob Rupe, where he expressed similar feelings about Richard’s contributions to the band as mine. Before then, we had never discussed it.  The band would miss Richard after his departure and would never be the same without him.

The Opening Act: Local bands, Sam Phillips

Good To Know:

• Richard’s sense of humor was great: At a gig, we met someone with a colostomy bag. Richard stated; “The problem with a colostomy bag is that you can never find the right shoes to match.”
• Playing to enthusiastic fans at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA.
• My first gig with the band at TT The Bear’s in Camridge, MA where I felt like I was on the Olympic luge and couldn’t stop the ride if I wanted.
• Realizing, at a gig in Albany, that I had not just joined a band, I had joined a movement.
• Having business meetings with the band’s manager, Mark Zoltak at a mob deli in Jersey City, NJ.  Characters would stroll into the secret back room for lunch and take off their sports coats, revealing their pieces before sitting down.  An old man would come over and tell you that you’ll be eating meat loaf. To which you would agree and patiently wait for your meal.  Mark called it the Mussolini Café.
• Meeting Richard for dinner at the V.I.P. Diner in Jersey City, N.J.  We then took a leisurely drive down the Jersey Turnpike to a wild Frat House gig at Pinceton University.
• Realizing that I had been lucky to join an amazing and trend-setting band.

The Main Idea: I was lucky to find this band and felt like I had “lucked-out.”  There was an indescribable buzz about The Silos that would disappear after our record deal.

The Pics: Courtesy of Mark Zoltak, Richard Ford and Brian Doherty

 

   

1990-1991 The RCA Bird Tour
 

  

The Locations: U.S.  

The Band: Walter Salas-Humara (guitar, vocals), Bob Rupe (lead guitar, vocals), Brian Doherty (drums),Walter Salas-Humara, Graham Maby (bass, vocals)

The Crew: Joe Chinnici (sound, drum tech), Skip (guitar/bass tech), Mark Zoltak (tour manager)

The Bass Player and More: Graham Maby was brought in after Richard’s departure and after the completion of The Bird record on which J.D. Foster played bass.  I had known Graham’s playing well, from years of listening to Joe Jackson recordings.  It was ironic that Graham replaced Richard in The Silos, and years earlier, Richard replaced Graham in Joe Jackson’s band.  Anyway, I respected Graham’s work and was excited about the prospect of working with him.  From a drummer’s perspective, there’s nothing better than working with a great bass player.  In the past I had made a mental wish-lists of the bass players with whom I’d love to work.  Graham was on that list, and I was really looking forward to forming a rhythm-section alliance with him in the hopes that we’d be a powerhouse team.  Later on I would work with other bass players on my mental list like Tony Maimone of Pere Ubu, Colin Moulding of XTC, and Francisco Centano.

The first day of rehearsal with Graham did not go well.  He seemed unprepared and disaffected and he had a playing style of closing his eyes and keeping to himself. I was shocked and thrown a bit.  However the second rehearsal was pretty much the same as the first. It was no longer about the band missing Richard. Graham’s playing was timid and weak.  He fell far short of our expectations.  After a few days of rehearsal, I got a call from the band’s manager, Mark Zoltak, asking me what I thought about Graham’s performance. After I expressed my concerns, he stated that Bob and Walter were also disappointed and were considering replacing Graham.  Before we hung up, almost as an after thought, Mark stated that he’d like to talk with Graham and put all our concerns on the table.

At the next rehearsal, Graham was a new, reinvigorated bass player.  He knew the material and put forth thoughtful musical contributions.  He personified the image I had of him when I originally put him on my “wish list.”  In short, he was fantastic.  Our concerns and fears faded. Graham was now our bass player. Although we worked together closely, Graham and I never bonded as friends.  Although it was never articulated in words, he’d eventually make it clear that we’d never be on the same level, personally or musically.  While on tour he continued to play great, but resorted to his original aloof style of playing.  In addition, he was ill with a cold for most of this tour and appeared to lack the energy needed for a full tilt rock ‘n roll band.  What made matters even worse was that we were roommates, so we spent a lot of time together.

In fairness to Graham, he was a seasoned pro and I was the too-eager novice.  He was most likely accustomed to better touring conditions and to having his own hotel room.  To boot, I was naive and socially awkward.  I’d hound Graham to recommend me for other work, interrupt him during conversations and linger around him at gigs.  Eventually, I’d even seek his approval of my playing.  In light of all of this, some might say he handled the situation really well and very diplomatically.

In spite of everthing, Graham and I still worked well as a rhythm section.  We never formed that powerhouse bond I hoped for, like Sly and Robbie, or Bruce Thomas and Pete Thomas.  In later years we’d work together quite bit, but only as a result of my recommendation or by mere happenstance.  He enjoyed the fruits of my recommendation of him to They Might Be Giants and then later to Natalie Merchant.  I can’t say he ever returned the favor.  After I left They Might Be Giants in 1996, I learned that my replacement was recommended and endorsed by Graham.  I haven’t spoken with him since.

The Opening Act: Various,  including The Jayhawks, Hootie and the Blowfish, and Hetch Hetchy; a band fronted by Michael Stipe’s sister.

Good To Know:

• In Charleston, S.C. we learned the name of our opening act while looking through the newspaper.  Mark Zoltak exclaimed, “Who the hell is Hootie and The Blowfish!” At the gig, they were nice enough. The drummer Jim Sonefeld came into our dressing room and gave us t-shirts.  I’m wearing the Hootie shirt in a few of the pictures posted here.
• After our show in Chicago, I went down the street to see a band called the Elvis Brothers.  I was blown away by their drummer, Brad Elvis who played standing up and was one of the best performers I’ve ever seen in my life.  Afterward, my face hurt from smiling throughout the hour and a half show.
• Our long drive across the Rockies (pics below).
• The band van and the gear truck communicated via cb radio.  When we’d pass a Dairy Queen, Joe Chinnici in the gear truck would cry out, “Blizzard!!” in a thick New York accent. A Blizzard is an ice cream treat from Dairy Queen.  “Blizzard!” became a favorite exclamation of ours, and we’d often accompany Joe to share in its delight.
• Laundry on the road is often a drag.  In San Francisco, Joe Chinnici sent his t-shirts to be cleaned through the hotel service.  Unbeknownst to him, they were sent out to be dry cleaned, not laundered. Joe almost had a heart attack when his shirts arrived with a bill for $95.00.
• Dogs roamed free in a club we played in Jackson, M.S.  They remained on stage with us for most of our set.
• Sightseeing trips to Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone Park (see pics in this and past posts).
• The tour route included mostly college towns.  Unfortunately, our tour began in early May when most schools were letting out for the summer. Therefore, many of our dates were under attended, which is why I dubbed it “The School’s Out Tour.”
• Our guitar tech, Mario “Skip” Sorentino would sit in a chair in the wings of the stage.  As our set progressed, he’d slowly inch his chair out onto the stage. Sometimes, by the end of the set, we’d see Skip sitting center stage, in full view of the audience, clapping and hooting as if he just paid for a ticket to see his favorite band.  Unfortunately, his work as the guitar tuner suffered because of this.
• Pete Buck sitting in with us in G.A.
• One show when The Jayhawks opened for us, I went out to dinner during their set.  Years later, their album Rainy Day Music would be the only music I’d listen to, day in, day out.  I could kick myself for not staying for their set.
• Listening to the Tube Bar and Jerky Boys tapes in the van.  I lived near the Tube Bar in Journal Square and often took visiters to experience it.
• A wirey guy named Freedy Johnston opened up for us in Northampton, MASS.  I was an instant believer.  You can see Bob and Graham wearing Freedy’s t-shirts in some of the pictures posted here.  He performed several Northeast dates with us. Later, Mark Zoltak would become Freedy’s manager and biggest supporter. Freedy would also ask Graham, Bob and me to work on his next recording. The album would be recorded over the course of a year and would be called Can You Fly.

The Main Idea: If the band had stayed together in this formation, this tour would’ve been a nice starting point.  However, as the only US tour after the only major label recording, this tour was less than spectacular.

The Pics: Courtesy of Jim Johnson

   

 

 

  

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

  

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

1991 The RCA Bird Europe Tour

  

  

The Locations: Belgium, Holland and Germany

The Band: Walter Salas-Humara (guitar, vocals), Bob Rupe (lead guitar, vocals), Brian Doherty (drums), J.D. Foster (bass)

The Crew: Matthias Hein (bus driver, roadie, tour manager), The Band (roadies)

The Bass Player and More: J.D. Foster played bass with us for the Gainesville Sessions.  Prior to this European tour, I had only played one live show with him.  I enjoyed working with him on The Bird record, but had only seen him in the recording environment.  Before embarking, we played a warm-up show at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, N.J.  I immediately felt relieved and excited about working with J.D. on the tour.  I already knew that he was capable, but there are a multitude of other personal and professional traits that could make even the greatest musician a drag when working together.  J.D., however, was the complete package.

In my opinion, J.D. was just what the band needed.  He had a strong stage presence and a keen musical sense.  He was able to roll with anything thrown his way.  Over the tour, as songs and improvisations changed, J.D. was often the catalyst.  He had a musical confidence that made me a better player.  Compared to our recent U.S. tour, the band was now off the hook; a much more enjoyable situation.  We actually started to play like a band of musicians who were able to react, predict and create with the others in the ensemble.  If you’ve ever been lucky enough to experience this, you’ll understand that there is no greater feeling in the world.  It’s the only reason why musicians play music in the first place.  Most times, bands fail to achieve this.  Night after night, we played like there was no tomorrow.  There had been a collective paradigm shift and we’d been transformed.  There was no more fretting and second guessing and J.D. had a lot to do with bringing us there.  I consider myself fortunate to have worked with J.D. in this capacity and can only hope we will do it again.  Years later, J.D. and I would play again in a band with Ryan Hedgecock of Lone Justice.

The Opening Act: The Beatitudes

Good To Know:

• Drinking Duval beer before our first show in Belgium, and not realizing it’s high alcohol content.  It really hit me hard as we walked from the dressing room to the stage.
• Playing  a tour of continuously sold-out gigs where audiences knew every word of every song.  A first for me in The Silos.
• Drinking some of the best beer and coffee in Germany and Holland.
• Visiting the Van Gogh Museum in Holland and Dachau in Germany on days off.
• Touring East Berlin barely two years after the wall came down.  We saw Check Point Charlie.
• Having dinner with a rep from BMG (parent company of RCA) and finding out the band was dropped by the label before our desert arrived.  I’d find out later that RCA refused to support this tour.  Instead, the band’s publisher MCA Music put up the money.
• On the car ride home from the airport, Bob mentioned something about playing music with David Lowery of Camper Van Beethoven.  It would turn out to be a band called Cracker where Bob would serve as bass player.  That was the beginning of the end.

The Main Idea: This tour restored and confirmed my faith in The Silos and I only wanted more.  I got less.
 

The Pic:

 

    

1992 Hasta La Victoria/Europe Tour

  

The Locations: Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Spain

The Band: Walter Salas-Humara (guitar, vocals), Greg Asfar (bass), Brian Doherty (drums), Mary Rowell (violin)

The Crew: Matthias Hein (driver, roadie)

The Bass Player and More:  After three years in The Silos, we already had three different bass players.  After the European/Bird Tour, it was official; Bob would no longer be in the band.  Also gone would be manager Mark Zoltak.  It was now me, Walter and J.D.  The thought of Bob not being there was odd.  At the time I was also working with Mark on Freedy’s projects.  It wouldn’t be until later that I’d realize how important his input, feedback and overall presence would be missed by this new version of the band. 

We recorded the basic tracks for Hasta La Victoria at Water Music in Hoboken, NJ over the course of a week or two.  To work out the kinks, we booked a week of gigs at the Rodeo Bar in NYC.  Bob’s replacement was violinist Mary Rowell.  Mary had done some work with the band on Cuba.  Her playing added mood and contrast to the band’s guitar orchestrations.  I enjoyed most of the tunes Walter brought to the table for this project, but some, however, were a bit of a stretch. 

After tracking, Walter took the music out to LA and completed everything without any input from the band.  He also hired guest musicians to play on tracks.  Predictably, he played drums on a couple tracks as well.  Taking the tracks to a studio in LA reaffirmed that The Silos was Walter’s band and he’d do as he pleased.  This did not sit well with J.D. as he had played the role of  producer during the Hoboken sessions.  After being cut out of the loop, J.D. was gone.

This brought us to our fourth bass player in four years: Greg Asfar.  Greg and I had recently done some live dates and sessions together.  At the time, Greg was living in Johnstown, P.A.  For work in NYC  he’d stay with a relative in Brooklyn.  Working with Greg was like sliding into an old pair of slippers.  From a rhythm section perspective, everything was quick and easy, as if we’d known each other for years. 

Greg came to the music with expert skills and genuine rock sensibilities-no jazz or fusion.  The mark of a true musician, he didn’t play any more than what was necessary.  He was a younger guy but played the bass with the wisdom of a veteran.  He fit right in and we were lucky to have him.  Greg and I became fast friends on this tour and we had great fun and many laughs.  After the tour, Greg and I only worked together sporadically.  Eventually, he moved out to San Francisco and started a family and a business.  In spite of the circumstances, I’ve kept in touch with Greg on a consistent basis more than any other friend or music colleague.  We’re still great friends.         

 

 

The Opening Act: Barbara and Teri Manning

Good To Know:

• All of us, including the gear and the Mannings were crammed into a van for the duration of the tour; It was brutal.
• After gigs, when it came time to breaking down gear and loading the van, Walter would conveniently be MIA.
• Greg, Matthias and me screaming and running through the streets of Bilbao, Spain as a way of releasing our frustrations about the tour.
• We stayed at a haunted hotel on The Rhine where Greg and I saw something float through our open window and then disappear. 
• At a festival in Austria the power went out.  Someone in the audience screamed, “Drum solo!”  Walter got behind the kit and was happy to oblige.
• It was obvious that to the Manning sisters, Greg and I were the “evil males.”  To help prove their point, I posted the centerfold of a Hustler magazine in our van.
• Greg and I spending hours at an all-night laundry in Germany not being able to figure out how to insert the coins.
• The good gigs where the club was packed so tight that there was literally nowhere to move after the set was over.
• Playing Cookie’s in Frankfort.
• Greg and I relaxing at cafes and forever in search of satisfying espresso and coffee in Spain.

 

The Pics: Courtesy of Greg Asfar

   

 

    

   

  

Where’s Bob?

This was our second time touring Europe.  The first time had been with Bob Rupe.  This time, violinist Mary Rowell joined us in Bob’s place.  The five-week tour was slated to begin in Germany and move to Austria and Spain.  From the moment we landed, the only question on everyone’s mind was, “Where’s Bob?”   The promoters, the fans, club owners, and even the record distributor wanted an answer.  You should have seen the face of our driver, Matthias, as he picked us up at the airport.  In the previous tour, he’d formed a strong bond with Bob.  As we approached Matthias at the airport, all the joy, sparkle and expectation dropped from his face as if he’d just been diagnosed with a terminal illness.  He was expecting a repeat of our last tour; Bob’s camaraderie, good times and Rock ‘n Roll.  Instead he got Walter and a lanky music conservatory chic toting a violin case.  It was apparent that Bob had not only made a great impression, but had branded the band in a sense.  People were associating The Silos with him.  He was “The Man” and now we were beginning a tour without him.  I felt a bit uneasy at first, and then it got much worse.  I watched the faces of fans drop as we launched our sets and they realized that there was no Bob.  To boot, who the heck was this violin player? 

After gigs, fans would corner me and ask about Bob.  During quiet pauses in our sets, they’d scream it out.  They had come to see a The Silos and instead got a Walter Salas-Humara show-classic bait and switch.  It was clear Walter hadn’t told the promoters in fear that they would not have booked the band.  Honestly, if this were intended as a solo Walter tour it would have been just fine.  There would have been fewer gigs and fewer fans.  Greg and I worked really well together.  Walter performed his tunes just fine.  Mary’s violin added an interesting touch, but was a bit too scratchy for my liking.  During our set, I’d often look over and see her sawing away at the instrument.  Nails on a chalk board.  We were only into the first week, and I wanted nothing more than to go home.

A few years later, Bob and I would work on a couple of projects together as session musicians.  He’s a great musician and he’s well respected in many circles.  Although we never really lost touch, Bob and I have recently reconnected because of these blog posts.  You’ll see his input and recollections in the comments section. 

The Main Idea: Greg, Matthias and I made the best of a bad situation and became good friends because of it.  This was the end of the line for me.

The Mirror

If I was the objective reader of my previous Silos posts, I’d be asking some serious questions about my own role as the band’s drummer. “Why didn’t you confront issues there and then?  How did your own shortcomings contribute to the band’s demise?” and so on.  It’s true that everyone involved, to some degree, was responsible for missing the golden ring.  However, most of those involved were simply doing their best as they knew it.  Since this is a story based on my recollections, I don’t feel compelled to spear the character of the rest of the crew.  For the most part, their character flaws often did not collide with my job performance.

As for me, I was going along to get along.  I was 27 going on 16, and as self-absorbed as a high school senior.  My car was always either broken down or on “E.”  I was a day late and a dollar short.  If I went to dinner with you, I’d be in the bathroom when the check arrived.  The mess that was my personal life was one of the only reasons I enjoyed being away from home.  Any hotel I stayed in on tour was more comfortable than the situation I created at home.  Typically, I blamed everyone else for my failures and shortcomings.  Rent always took me by surprise and seemed to come a week too early.  Normal responsibilities were for chumps.  I felt I’d be magically transported from my squalor, across  the valley of meaningful duties and admirable character traits to a Rock Star utopia.  Meanwhile, those “normal” people got married and watched their kids grow up, saved money for family vacations, performed daily responsibilities and started businesses.

Professionally, I thought The Silos was my stepping stone to the throne of Jim Gordon or Steve Gadd, although I wasn’t a fraction as good as either of them. I would rather walk on egg shells than put my balls on the line.  I overlooked friendships and saw others only as resources.  I always thought there was lots more in the future, and that it would be way better than the present.  I thought I knew everything, but really knew nothing.  I dismissed the genius of artists like Bruce Springsteen and The Ramones, while being only vaguely familiar with The Velvet Underground, Buffalo Springfield or Gram Parsons.  I undervalued the hard work and sweat equity of my colleagues on a regular basis.  I was like a child in search of my next meal, my next nap and the passing of toxic fumes some would characterize as farts (oh well, some things never change).  I’d rather covet other’s success than share in their joy.  A social invite by me almost always came with a business request or would be mentally logged in as an i.o.u to be retrieved by me at a later date.  In short, I had a long way to go in becoming an adult.  I am also responsible for letting The Silos go down the tubes.

Saved by Can You Fly

As The Silos crumbled, I started playing some live shows with Freedy Johnston.  As a matter of fact, I was also working with singer/songwriters Hub Moore, Helen Hooke, Joy Askew, Roger Gillen and Kevin Salem.  But Freedy was by far the most talented, unique and promising.  It was a great time to live in the Hoboken, N.J. area.  There were gigs at Maxwell’s and The Beaten Path.  There were recording sessions at Water Music on Grand Street and rehearsals on 2^nd Street.  To this day, I can still smell steaks broiling from Author’s.  Maxwell House had a coffee factory uptown on 14^thStreet.  The effervescence of roasted coffee beans permeated every inch of the mile square town.  You couldn’t walk down the main drag, Washington Street, without bumping into someone from bands such as The Bongos, the db’s, Bob Mould, and Television.  Speaking of Television, my initial gigs with Freedy would be with Television’s bassist, Fred Smith.  Other characters would be Mark Zoltak, Bob Rupe, Kevin Salem, Marshall Crenshaw, Jimmy Lee, Jared Nickerson and Graham Maby.  Freedy’s project couldn’t have come at a better time.  I was jumping from the burning ship that was The Silos to a stable, more promising Freedy Johnston.  To boot, I was still working with the “crew.”  Once again, I was lucky.  It wouldn’t be long before I’d mess up this situation.  I’m working on the full story of my tenure with Freedy Johnston, and my first hand account of his ascendance as a brilliant songwriter and why I think he ended up a teary-eyed sad sack, in an upcoming blog post.

This song is from Can You Fly.  I’m proud of the drum tracks on this record and consider them some of the best I’ve done.  (Ironically, Freedy and I never worked together again after the completion of this album).  We recorded this album in two groups of sessions separated by 13 months.  The first round of sessions were produced by Graham Maby, with me and Jared Nickerson as the rhythm section.  I remember playing drums on Responsible first.  Over a few days I played drums on the other songs.  About a year later came songs like In The New Sunshine and this tune, The Lucky One.  These last sessions were produced by Knut Bohn, with me and bassist Graham Maby as the rhythm section.  For this tune, Knut asked me to play straight through with no fills.  We went back to overdub cymbal crashes which he then ran through some effects.   

This is still my favorite Freedy album.  It was an exciting time to be playing music in Hoboken, NJ.  These sessions were some of the last to be recorded at the old Water Music studio when it was a dump that smelled like diesel fumes.  No wonder I sometimes have trouble with my memory.

I’m working on a detailed, comprehensive account about the Can You Fly sessions which I’ll post here soon.