In early 90's I saw Snooky and Johnny Nicholas in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Even have signed flyer somewhere.
The gig was outstanding. However, the moment when I was getting flyer signed and Johnny Nicholas handed me his guitar and I actually got to jam with Snooky back stage... Well wow, just wow
Wish I'd had a camera back in my late teens cos that woulda been some photo
John
:)
Last Edited by Big Boy Hogg on Jun 03, 2016 5:45 AM
Back in 1968 janis Joplin and Big brother played a little converted warehouse called the Electric Factory in Philadelphia. I had just turned 16 and wanted to see the show badly. My mom had a friend who was a bouncer there who promised he'd keep an eye on me. Well I got to sit at the side of the stage and hold Janis' famous Southern comfort bottle and take a couple of nips with her encouragement Back then she was the sweetest rock chick you could ever wanna meet. Still love ya Janis.
I did a reggae radio show out of Atlantic City in the eighties and got to party with a lotta bands and always had musicians crashing on my floor at the house
Much good herb and music was shared with the likes of the Mighty Diamonds , Culture and Toots.
Tabby of the Diamonds had the sweetest voice you ever heard
it was 1988 or 1989. I was part of the production crew at the Detroit Montreaux Jazz Festival. Miles Davis was playing at Ford Auditorium. The word went out to clear the backstage as the performance was beginning. For some cosmic reason, everyone was booted out except my wife and I. We hung out there for the show. During one song Miles circled the stage - which meant he walked off stage left, walked behind stage to enter from stage right. No one else was back there except both my wife, myself and Miles. He walked slowly past us, holding his electric red trumpet, turning his head to stare at us from behind his oversized sunglasses. It felt like we were in the presence of royalty. ---------- The Iceman
Last Edited by The Iceman on Jun 03, 2016 9:36 PM
when I was 15, I saw the Count Basie Orchestra and Muddy Waters in Misquamicut RI. Basie played a dance party at the Casino with the Roomful of Blues and Muddy was down the road at Uncle John's Surfside Six. That evening, I met both Basie and Muddy and talked with them a bit.
My sister took me to my first concert, I was 15, she was 17. It was the Rolling Thunder Review Benefit for Hurricane Carter with Bob Dylan. I did not realize until years later what a big deal that show was. So many great people.
My first concert may have been the best as well. Fall of 1971, Led Zeppelin at the Hampton Roads Coliseum. Age 14, my first girlfriend giving me my first real kissing lesson while I was trying to figure out what the heck was going on rhythmically with "Black Dog".
I was trying to find out who (if anyone) opened for them and came across a recording of that actual concert on youtube:
I don't think my definition of gig is the same as you guys. To me a gig is some job I did playing. I played so many gigs and had so many cool ones. "Big River" gigs were always fun to play.
This is long but I've been wanting to tell this story for some time. It is dear to my heart.
Up until September of 2012 I would have held up the 4 years I was able to attend the Telluride Blues And Brews Festival's Acoustic Blues Camp as my best musical moments. The ABC was an event at which headliners at the Festival flew in 4 days prior to the festival to teach their instrument to groups of 4 to 50 eager grasshopper students.
I was extremely fortunate to sit at the feet of harmonica Masters Phil Wiggins and then Grant Dermody for two years each before the unfortunate demise of the camp. I am even more fortunate to count these fellows friends, 10-12 years later. Both cut from the same cloth as great players and teachers as well as gentlemen of the first order.
During those times at the ABC with Phil and Grant and the other teachers and students I was steeped in acoustic blues along with dozens of kindred Blues Heads like never before or since. I savor my memories still. But they are eclipsed by what happened to me in September, 2012.
Phil was headlining the TBBF once more after the loss of his long time partner, John Cephas. This time his duo partner was the Rev. John Wilkins, the son of the late Rev. Robert Wilkins, a Piedmont-style blues player who recorded in the '20s and '30s. I had made arrangements to meet up with Phil ahead of the event and we did so after their show. We took a ride up the steep mountain valley to a secluded spot and caught up and jammed for 90 minutes. I was in my glory but was further delighted when Phil extended an invitation from Mark Galbo to join them for dinner. Mark was the organizer of the ABC (and one of the teachers as well) and resides in Telluride.
After dinner, a little jam ensued. I was peaked with excitement because Phil and John had played a perfect version of the Rolling Stone's song, "Prodigal Son" earlier on stage. This is my favorite RS song by a measure and naturally I can knock off a pretty good version if I say so myself. It was penned by John's father.
The jam was winding down and everyone was pretty much spent for their day at 9,000 feet elevation -- especially the 79 y/o Reverend who was still recovering from hip replacement surgery. I hesitated but knew the opportunity would never come again, so I did something uncharacteristically selfish. I asked the Good Reverend if he would mind me accompanying him on his flagship song before we retired. It was heavenly! I acquitted myself handsomely (if I do say so) in front of musicians for whom I have ultimate respect, playing one of my favorite songs.
So I reckon that I played "Prodigal Son" with ~the~ Prodigal Son! I don't imagine I'll ever top that moment, one of the peak experiences of my lifetime.
This is a great thread idea, Hogg. And thanks for sticking with me here.
Michelle
---------- SilverWing Leather - Custom leather creations for musicians and other eccentrics.
Last Edited by mlefree on Jun 06, 2016 10:40 AM
I'm not sure if what follows counts as my best gig ever, but it probably counts as my bluesiest, and for a blues player to say that means something.
As the summer of 1998 approached, Satan and Adam had a full plate of gigs. Then Sterling had a nervous breakdown, disappeared, and I was forced to tell the agent who'd booked the half dozen festivals, including one in Norway, that she would have to cancel them all, meaning--since we were her main act--that her entire summer had just gone bust. It broke her heart; she left the business soon after and ended up becoming a Buddhist.
Before she left, frantic, she asked me to see if I could find substitute blues guitarists to pair up with so that we might rescue a gig or two. She meant black bluesmen: Satan substitutes. I rescued two gigs in this way. One, that fall, was with Irving Louis Lattin, a wonderful singer/guitarist I'd played a few gigs with and knew pretty well.
The other gig was with Larry Johnson. Larry, an important acoustic blues elder who is still out there, had been the mentor of my own teacher, the late Nat Riddles. Larry was very cynical about Nat, whom he considered a failure because he'd died young. I'd sat in with Larry a couple of times because he was pals with Brian Kramer, a guitarist who I played with in a band from time to time. I called Larry and asked if he could do it: The Atlanta Blues Festival. The money was good. It was at least $750 each (in 1998), plus airfare, hotel, etc. He said OK.
I don't remember if we had a rehearsal or not, but I don't think we did. I think he sneered when I suggested a rehearsal on the phone and said something like "We don't need no goddamn REHEARSAL, Adam. We'll just play the goddamn music. Come ON, man."
Larry was a soulful guy, which is to say, he was an edgy, irritable, mercurial son of a bitch. A real bluesman.
On game day I drove down to his neightborhood and picked him up and we drove, or cabbed, out to the airport.
He was not in a good mood, and his mood worsened as the plane ride brought us closer to Atlanta. I couldn't quite figure out why he was in such a bad mood. It seemed to have something to do with old memories he had of Atlanta, where he'd been born and raised, but some portion of it clearly had to do with the fact that the only rationale for the gig was....well, what it was: money was waiting for me and whatever older black blues guitarist I could convince to play a gig that Satan was supposed to play. So he was a substitute black guy, and nobody is happy when they're substituting in that sort of context. As the plane glided down slowly into Atlanta, he truly got pissed off; he almost yelled at me. The whole thing was on a hair trigger. And it got worse.
We took a cab to the venue, which was Olympic Park. We found the stage--we were there about an hour before showtime--and he seemed to have cultivated an all-points fury for the very fact that he was playing this goddamn gig. Remember: we hadn't rehearsed! This was a major festival. And we were going to go onstage like that.
I believe that I got him to tune up to me, but he eyed me like a pissed-off hawk when we did that. I distinctly remember having one more big blowup off the side of the stage where he was spluttering and I basically came back at him with something like "Do you want to play the goddamned show or not?" In some future world the folks who parse emotions into various chemicals flooding into your bloodstream will know exactly what was happening to me, but I definitely had that flames-in-the-heart feeling. Very bluesy.
Eventually we were announced and walked on. It was a wild ride. He played; I did my best to hang on. It would be fair to say that we played a raw and spirited set. I don't remember any more than that. I believe that we both felt a little better after finishing up and getting off. I collected our money, in cash, and put his half in his hand.
It was nothing like Satan and Adam, but it was good training. I haven't seen him since.
Last Edited by kudzurunner on Jun 06, 2016 8:44 PM
The first show I ever went to was a Pete Seeger show when I was pretty little kid, 3rd or 4th grade. My mom wanted me to see one of her all time favorites and figured the time to do it was sooner rather than later, since Pete wasn't a spring chicken. That would have been 1980-ish?
Anyway, I ran into Pete in the hallway at a show and got to tell him that a couple months before he passed away, and more than 30 years after the first time I'd seen him play.
In a similar wrap around story, not personally involving me, my friend Jon won some tickets to the last Woodstock (the one that ended with riots). He actually offered to take me, but OCD and porta-potties don't mix well and I was so broke at the time I really couldn't have afforded the incidentals (and that's before knowing water bottles would be selling for $8 a pop.)
Anyway, my friend is a large guy, brownish-black hair, and he was walking through the crowd and someone yelled, 'Hey, I know you, you are Jon!' Since that is in fact his name Jon thought maybe this was someone who knew him from high school or something and said, 'Yeah, I'm Jon'.
Only this guy then got on his walkie talkie and started yelling that John Popper was standing in front of him. (My friend looked a lot like Popper before Popper lost the weight. When his hair is scruffier he could also pass for Michael Moore.) Anyway, people around started to notice, and crowds being crowds they started to move towards him.
My friend Jon had to think fast. He asked the guy to be quiet. Knowing he'd need a carrot to accomplish that he decided he had more bargaining power as John Popper, and told the guy that yes, he was John Popper, and that he was doing a super secret set with Metallica later, and that if the guy would just be quiet if he could get to the stage for the Metallica show he'd pull him up on stage. At this point, security showed up and jumped to the same conclusion and helped whisk Jon out of harm's way.
But the story doesn't quite end there. When he got home his brother was asking about the show. He'd heard a rumor, apparently reported by MTV, that Metallica was supposed to do a set with John Popper. Rumors.
Anyway, years later two of my other friends (both mutual friend's of Jon) where at one of John's shows. They ran into him after the show and got to tell him the story of his doppleganger at Woodstock. All that would make the story come full circle any better would be if somehow we could just get Metallica and Popper together for a collaboration. Hmmm...
It's not the best but it is the most memorable show. Summer of 1972- I was just a 14 1/2 year old kid and had never been to a rock concert. My 17 year old sister has tickets to see The Rolling Stones and Stevie Wonder at the Hollywood Palladium with her friends. Afternoon of the concert my sisters boyfriend gets REALLY sick and can't make it. Big sis asks me if I want to go - mom and dad say okay. Sister and her friends start smoking dope and drinking Southern Comfort 20 yards down the road and 40 minutes away from Holywood. My first time smoking pot, my first taste of hard liquor and then STEVIE WONDER and THE ROLLING STONES at the Hollywood Palladium. Encore was both bands on stage doing a 10 minute (at least) Satisfaction.
I was never that close to my sister before that night but we ended up becoming pretty tight after that. She's 62 years old now and still a way cool chick.
This has worked better than I hoped. Some great stories in there. And obvious wonderful, very dear, moments in our musical history.
I wonder how many people of today have similar moments that will live with them forever. I doubt it. For me there was something about the era these guys came from especially the blues guys.
These guys played for the love and would play on the street and many a small venue in days gone by.
I had been studying harp seriously for just under a year and started going to a blues jam, and met a much more experienced guitarist. I was short on skill but long on enthusiasm. One day a few months later I saw he posted on Facebook that he was going busking asked if it was okay if I sat in. We used to go out 2,3,4 nights a week. One night about a month after I started, we were in the middle of the financial district, not much happening, and three young ladies danced their way up the plaza to us. They stayed for 5-10 minutes (which seemed like hours) and danced around with much joy, and I believe we were equally happy. I’m always keen for a busk and have done it hundreds of times since.
This is a one of the best concert moments.... I was working as Dir of Events Services at a concert venue many moons ago. I got to see lots of great concerts, and making all better, I got to see them from the bldg. side, with full access. We had Hootie and the Blowfish in. A few months earlier a friend in the business told me how much he loved them. I liked them, but didn't love them. Well after seeing them in concert, I realized what he meant. They didn't stick to their standard hits set. They played it all, and I mean ALL. And did it great. Bluegrass, funk, rock, pop, blues, country, hip-hop.... it was truly great. They did this one medley where they started with "Will The Circle Be Unbroken", went through Aerosmith, George Jones, Run DMC, blues, James Taylor, etc, etc, and ended back with the first song. It was truly an amazing show. It reminded me of an article way back in the Houston Post, when the writer was reporting on a recent Neville Bros concert..... He said he'd just seen the best funk, country, bluegrass, rock, pop, blues and jazz band ever, the Nevilles. That's what I thought that night....
