Down Memory Road

Many years ago, I played bass for a local group called The Trip. They were a crazy bunch of rapscallions with a penchant for good times and an extensive repertoire of homemade material. It was my first experience in a functioning band. Up until then I had been performing a series of solo acts, or some hastily thrown together duos and trios, running under a few hours of rehearsal and a lot of "seat of the pants" tactics. But this here, was a legitimate band. Big manly guitar and bass amplifiers, double drum kit,and microphones withing arms reach, all managed by men who had seen the south side of surly bars and unmaintained backyards. These men had played, forcing songs to fit into ever-changing tempos, hoping that any mistakes made could be covered in the rebound by the rest of the band. Hefty quantities of beer fueled the need to ride the groove for all it's worth, and hopefully finish the tune without looking like a complete ass.

I played with them for more than a year. Not long compared to the life histories of other bands, but extensive for a guy like me. And much as I would like to point the finger at the men who headed the band, citing bad blood and hostile tendencies to the company I shared in that cramped basement, truth was my leave was mostly my own doing.

While I hadn't flexed my stage skills much, I had been standing the line for near a decade by that point. And though the technology changed from Casio keyboards and boomboxes from the 70's to something reasonably more advanced, I still had been writing material for a very long time.

This made me a very cocky bastard.

I wanted control over every single thing that went down. The acoustic guitar was too trebly, the snare had too much snap. And god forbid if anyone actually told me how to do my job in this! You want to complain about my bass EQ? I've been recording the shit for a long time buddy. Maybe you just need to turn your ass down. You don't like that bass line I whipped up during the spur of the moment and would prefer I play something similar to what your old bassist played? Fuck you man, if you want his ideas so bad, hire his ass back. Boogie does shit differently around here, so try and keep up.

I was a smug prick who did not like to have his ideas, which were transported from Jesus himself into my highly advanced brain, altered. By the end of my run, I was completely burned out, and since I was almost finished with a certain project under the codename "BGO," I was ready to jump p. When a well-paying job that required evening hours came up, I couldn't escape quick enough.

Since that time, I have become even more of a control freak over the small world I made for myself, but somehow managed to get some product out as well. And while I avoided holding a grudge, I also completely turned off that aspect of my life, never reviewing the sounds, or the music again. That is, until recently of course. A recent slew of memories from my heydays with The Trip all came rushing back to me, and from the most unlikely of sources no less.

Last night I was reading a review of the Dresden Dolls latest work. Curious, I happened over to Songza to see if I could take a listen. Up until now, my only knowledge of what they do was "Coin Operated Boy" which was a fine enough song, but not enough to compel me into repeated doses.
Has I browsed what was available, I saw a listing for something that made my jaw drop. The Doll's doing a live cover of War Pigs.

War Pigs? Surely it can't be the same song that Black Sabbath raped my fertile mind with? So I listened, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the same song done by a piano, drums, and two twisted minds. And I'll be even more damned if it wasn't simply amazing. Actually, mind blowing is a better word for it. both Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione put a lot of fury into that song that is as intense, if not more so, than the original.

And while I enjoyed the sonic fury that was being presented to me, I couldn't help but think of The Trip.

War Pigs was a constant staple of the live shows. One of those few songs on the set list that was unquestionably perfect, and guaranteed to get a crowd going. My bass work on our version was, of course, completely sacrilegious. Altered lines and changing keys, all completely overplayed and sharing nothing with Geezer's fine respectable work. And yet I remember it was some of my more subtle work. One of the few songs where playing four to the floor was actually kind of fun. And when the section that was Luke's Wall exploded in a mass of drums and cymbals, my adrenaline levels peaked into a high that no amounts of sugar, muscle relaxers, or quality alcohols have ever matched.

As the Dolls wrapped up their take on the classic, I embraced a whole slew of memories from those days. Sure there were nights I hated making the drive to practice, knowing I'd be blasted by decibels from unforgiving musicians, and that I would somehow have to make these same songs from the same set list interesting enough for me to play through. But, on those moments, like the four count before War Pigs, things were good. It was a distinct pleasure to perform with these men.

It's strange to visit those ashes in the present. Black Sabbath is still very much a band to be respected and admired, and The Trip was definitely heaps o' fun. And yet, the paths I'm on now are different. I'm not sure I'll ever play that song again. Which I suppose in some ways is good, but I do long for the nostalgia. A simpler time when a man could just be a bassist, and be comfortable in the knowledge that any missed notes or off keys would be covered by his fellow band mates. When a cold beer and a little Black Sabbath, would be enough to get you through.