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SEXPOSÉ: The Gentle Readers 1997 Diary Archives
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We played with Lift at Atlanta's Red Light Cafe (home of the beer, soup and carrot cake value meal) on New Year's. The show was good for us because 1) we played with a good band, 2) we played well, 3) there was a good crowd and 4) people were drunk and having a good time. We handed out loads of ice scrapers, our interim drummer Linda "Sober Up" Bolley kicked some you know what (this is a family web site) and we covered a Lift song - "Fool (You're Not In Love)" which they don't like and we do so we're keeping it.
Linda also played with us at the 40-Watt. It would've been fine, except I broke a string, and my second guitar had a short in it. It was really distracting, the intermittent crackle through the P.A., and it fucked everybody up, including the audience. They looked all dazed and tired when we were through, like they'd been through shock treatment or something. I really thought we were playing pretty well to that point. Oh well. I'm just a big fat menace. Good thing I excel in showmanship.
About the Excelsior project: Susan and I recorded a bunch of songs on 4-track over the past year which we remixed and added new vocals to. We put out a seven-song cassette, available for $5 at Rainy Day Records (see links). Copies have gone to limited press and radio outlets. The tape is very cohesive and relaxed and groovy. People seem to really like it, and it's a nice compliment to our regular Gentle Readers Full Frontal Rock Assault (ok - that's a stretch).
Of course, the best part of the month for the Gentle Readers is the highly personal, intimate information which we feel compelled to share with our friends. Stuff like this: during the month of January, Don continued to drive around in his little red car with the top off. He replaced the computer and DAT machine which got stolen out of his trunk while Christmas shopping and Lennox Mall.
Don is, incidentally, the first of the Gentle Readers to try the new textured Ralph Lauren paint they now sell at Home Depot. He painted his study a nice chocolate brown. In his study he has a big fat computer, a big fat dark leather chair and a big fat tin of pipe tobacco. I told him I thought it was very manly and he acted liked I was some granola-munching, round-rimmed glasses wearing, short-haired feminist troublemaker. I mean c'mon. All he's missing is a big mounted deer head, or a stack of Playboys (which reduce women to mindless puppets who should shut up if they won't put out. Oops.) No, that's not true. I don't really feel that way. I'm just mad that I haven't been asked to be naked in Playboy yet.
Brandon was in NYC over New Year's. He had a very strange week in the middle of the month where (we all noticed this - I swear) the hair just flew out of his head. It grew like a 1/4 inch a day. It was amazing. We all speculated that it had something to do with the fact that he sleeps in a pyramid-shaped enclose, or perhaps there was a problem with his drinking water.
Susan went to Wisconsin for work. She and a co-worker played a lot of cards at the Racine Holiday Inn. She was able to squeeze in a weekend in Chicago before heading home, thinking that if you're going to freeze your ass off, might as well do it in a major metropolitan city. Following suit, I went to New York City where I visited friends and saw the Continental Drifters and Freedy Johnston and didn't get lost even one time. I zipped up to Connecticut for an afternoon and visited my friend Miss Di. She has the most incredible collection of bad taxidermy that this reporter has ever witnessed. Truly unbelievable.
Until next month: "The combat infantryman should combine the arts of a successful poacher, a cat-burglar and a gunman." - Field Marshal Earl Wavell (1885-1950)
Just so you know, I get these quotes out of the back of Funk & Wagnalls New Comprehensive International Dictionary of the English Language, Deluxe Reference Edition, sandwiched between the sections at the back on physical fitness and etymology.
Lee
What an incredible month we had in February. Susan got married, Don is producing a big major label record (it's supposed to be a secret), Brandon got a Zildijan sponsorship and I was given a free plane ticket by my travel agent, who always calls me "sugar." We also played 16 shows during the month, doing a little two week run up the East coast. We came home when we got to Maine. I wanted to jog around and hit Newfoundland (I've wanted to visit since reading "The Shipping News") but was overruled when it was discovered that the extra leg would drop us to a $3/day per diem, which by the way Brandon has toured on and he's a pack a day smoker. Can you say POTTED MEAT PRODUCT? Goodness.
Anyway, it was a whirlwind romance for Susan and her now husband, Bruce. I don't know how she'd feel if she knew I were sharing all this information, but I think it sheds some real bright light on her character. They met at a Marilyn Manson show (our manager David made us all go as a homework assignment to see how a REAL stage show is presented), both standing in the back drinking Lite beers from Miller (which neither taste great nor are less filling).
Susan had been feeling peaked all day and the combination of the stuffy club and the loud, provocative music manifested itself in a sharp abdominal pain. This cute looking guy who I had been eying for myself, frankly, saw her collapse, ran to her side and started giving her mouth to mouth. Of course she did not need the mouth to mouth, but their lips met none the less, and Susan's pain (it had doubled her over!) suddenly vanished. Susan is no hypochondriac, and so I knew that some significant occurrence had transpired before me. Could I be a witness to LOVE blossoming? This miraculous and mysterious strain which caresses as it festers? I believe now that I was.
I'll spare you the details (she disappeared for three days - we called off practice and sent someone over to feed her cats), but when she surfaced it was as a radiant and pacified being, truly elevated, truly magnificent. She sang with a new confidence, she swaggered with renewed vigor. The whole Bruce experience has been a shot in the arm for all of us. And now they are married. A quick turn of events but an undeniably fortuitous one for the Gentle Readers. He is a physically strong individual and is making an excellent roadie.
Compared to Susan's February, the month was relatively uneventful for the rest of us. Sure, Don is producing a big fatty major label record and he's raping the recording budget (I saw a whole pig on a spit with an apple in its mouth in the control room yesterday. They put a mic in front of it just to be funny).
Sure, Brandon got a sponsorship from Zildijan, maker of the world's finest cymbals, which means he never has to BUY another one as long as he lives (I saw him out in the parking lot recently playing frisbee with a new, shiny set of high hats. I think he was wearing a tunic).
Sure, I got a free ticket under somewhat nebulous conditions to go visit a friend out of state (a business school grad) who once said "What's a paradigm? Maybe I need one too."
Yes, the world is a scary and dangerous place, but the lesson to be gleaned from all of this is that the L word is what it's all about baby, and if you someday get the big D (for "dumped") on downstream, you still had a wonderful and crazy ride. Susan taught us not to be afraid, and it's a critical life lesson. Maybe that's why we came together, the four of us Gentle Readers. I always felt that we rocked for a higher purpose.
I can't go on, I'm so full of shit. Forget it.
Until March -
Lee
Let me preface this story: In 1991, Susan and I moved down from Indianapolis to record some demos and find something resembling a band. We lived next door to Don McCollister and Nickel and Dime Recording Studio, and so we recorded three songs with Don playing bass and Travis McNabb (now with Better Than Ezra) on drums. Don suggested we learn a few more songs and play a show at Eddie's Attic (before they stopped booking bands and hung all those banners telling people to be quiet). While Travis moved away and our drummer's slot remained somewhat transitional (was that diplomatic?), we continued to play with Don for five years.
Now we're preparing to make our second record - this one without Don. We're heading to Bloomington, Indiana, to record with old friend and esteemed producer/engineer, Paul Mahern. We're recording at Mike Wanchic's (Mellencamp's guitar player) Echo Park Studio, and I get to take my dog Opal. Our newest and most physically fit drummer to date, Bill Ragsdale, will play on the record, and we are hopeful that Travis will also be able to make an appearance.
Our bass player will be Vess Ruhtenberg, fearless leader of Indiana's United States Three. He played a little guitar on our first record. Paul, Vess and I were in band together called the Datura Seeds, back when the moon was in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars.
Don is spending the summer (though he denies this) moving his studio from the Avondale Towne Cinema to an old house he bought and is having restored. It's an amazing house - tall ceilings, big fireplaces in every room, and structurally sound. But it looks like absolute hell. They say they'll be rolling tape in the new location by July 1, and while it is possible, it would be a magnificent display of construction management at it's most dazzling. A dizzying dance of intricate and precise maneuvering only a logistical genius and a diplomat could conceive, much less execute. Get my drift?
So Don is taking Nickel and Dime to the next level (Heaven's Gate speak), Brandon is on tour with David Ryan Harris (ex-Follow For Now, signed to 57 Records), and Susan and Bill and myself are getting psyched for the trip to Bloomington. We will head north with the race fans Labor Day weekend, and while we will miss the Greatest Spectacle in Racing, we will try to imbue our new album with the spirit of the snakepit.
Check out our new "Sassy '97" revue at Dottie's on Saturday, July 12. We'll be the ones in Tiaras.
See you then -
Lee
Since our return, I have been reading the paper voraciously. On Sunday I read about Hong Kong's return to China, the 14 year-old boy who beheaded his 11-year old neighbor in Japan and stuck the head on the gate at the middle school, and which music Holyfield and Tyson elected to listen to before the big fight (rap, spirituals). I have also been strangely drawn to the Frank Gifford/Kathy Lee story. I think they should have their privacy (yeah, right, whatever), though their situation is perversely fascinating. I think it's because Gifford was caught absolutely, no doubt about it, redhanded. Usually we just hear about this stuff - this time we saw it. Scandal, scandal, and I am so totally glad it's somebody else and not me.
Anyway, we had a very intense and wonderful time making our new record with Paul Mahern up north. It rained every single day we were in the studio, which was plenty. My dog Opal found some feculence to roll in outside so I stood in the rain with a bottle of Dawn dish washing soap and a hose trying to get her clean. She got her karmic payback shortly thereafter when she sniffed a live wire protruding from a broken lighting fixture outside our motel room. It was hard, though I love her, not to find this moderately entertaining.
The record is done, it's got a nice rhythm and you can dance to it, and we're in the process of shopping it to labels. That's all I can say because I'm in the MUSIC BUSINESS, and everything is bait, hook, negotiate, swindle, and I don't want to jeopardize our ability to do any or all of those things. Maybe you can tell, I had my revelation.
For those keeping score, here's where we are: our rhythm section for the record was Vess Ruhtenberg on bass, Travis McNabb from Better Than Ezra on drums for six songs, and Bill Ragsdale, who is now our regular drummer, on six songs. We had guest vocals from Kim Fox, a great singer-songwriter whose record is due at the end of July on Dreamworks, and Jake Smith from Mysteries of Life (new album due in the fall on RCA). Susan also played some keyboards, and Kathy Kolata of the Vulgar Boatmen played viola.
For live porpoises, Bill is the drummer and fellow named Greg Partridge will be the bass guy. Both are real, bona-fide schooled musicians. When they start talking about time signatures and chord changes, Susan and I just kind of huddle sympathetically and talk about weeding, or doing laundry or taking out the trash. Or beauty secrets, of course.
We're big on beauty secrets. What gal who would rather shop at Home Depot than Bloomingdales isn't? Here are some of our favorites: Converse high-tops make the best gardening shoes. Don't buy those fu-fu specialty shoes. The rubber toe, canvas upper and washability of the Chuck Taylor make it ideal for gardening. I prefer the high top - keeps dirt from filling the shoe. Also, take baths in olive oil for the ultimate in soft but not greasy skin. Add two tablespoons to water. Take that Martha Stewart, you cleverly disguised slut.
Finally, thanks for all the hits on the web site this month and the mailing list requests. We're trying to stay current (i.e. reading the paper, listening to Hanson), and we'll have an all-new scrapbook up soon. I know - there is a collective sigh of relief across the country right now.
Yee haw.
Lee
Kevin comes to the band fresh from Bloomington, Indiana, where he recently graduated from Indiana University. Both Susan and I attended IU, and we just made a new record in Bloomington, and so we felt Kevin was uniquely qualified to play with us. Greg has got to be the only guy in the history of the world who feels like the odd man out because he has no residential or professional to the Hoosier state. The rest of us drop names, gossip, reminisce, and sometimes we huddle up with our arms around one another. Greg has come to accept this, like some people accept that they aren't taller or that they don't have red hair. That's just the way it is.
We played our first show with these guys a couple of weeks ago and it was good and fun and all that, but what was really funny about it was that once again we were poorly matched with the other bands on the bill. Smith's Olde Bar here in Atlanta has the greatest room and PA in the city-we all think so-but they keep booking us with these blues or classic rock bands full of guys who look like they've been in Foreigner. What is up with this? We never get any beer (the old dudes drink it like Slim Fast), and their crowd is miserable and our crowd is miserable and we're all nervous without beer and it's just not right. I just want to tell people, we know it's not right. It's wrong, and we're sorry. Someday, someone's going to put us on the ABBA/Ace of Bass bill (we're Swedish sympathizers) where we belong.
To summarize: new rhythm section, shopping our secret hidden record, our manager took the bar exam, we changed practice spaces, had good shows at Dottie's and Smith's, lots of new mailing list requests and thank you, bought Susan a new microphone. That's it. We got her one of those headset mics so when she leads our troupe of dancers she has her hands free. In fact, she's in class today learning how to make those tassels on her bodysuit swing in a circle.
Ok, gotta run. Next month I'll write a really meaty, substantive Sexposé but for this month little bits of crap will suffice.
LYLAS,
Lee
Speaking of, we play at the Otherside Lounge in November. You may remember it as the Atlanta GAY AND LESBIAN NIGHTCLUB that was 'sploded a few months back. They always refer to it that way on the news, like when they talked about Rodney King a few years ago, they always referred to him as MOTORIST RODNEY KING. I have often wished my title were "Motorist" instead of "Administrative Assistant." I also like "Dancer/Weaver."
Anyway, on with the news. We have been playing locally a good bit lately - like every week through November - and things have been going well for us. No one has been yelling or getting thrown off the stage. Nobody has forgotten any gear. Nothing has been stolen. We haven't gotten lost. While this overall makes for better shows and lots of peace in the valley, it makes the monthly news harder to write. A year ago I delighted in sharing our misfortune with you all - how we were always making trouble for ourselves and getting booked with bad bands on bad nights. Instead of the fun-loving grasshoppers we used to be, we have evolved into hearty worker ants, practicing hard as the winter approaches. Sorry.
Saw a good new local band last month - Little Bobby Taylors - and we are playing two shows in November with them. It's going to be like we're on tour. At the end of the night we're all going to get back up onstage and do "Nights in White Satin" together. I get to play the part of the "weaver/dancer."
Finally, we don't yet have news on when our new record will be released or who will put it out, but we hope to know by January. We have a VERY FEW copies of "It's A Sexy Life," our first CD, available, which we'd be happy to send you for $10, or pick one up at a show.
Overall, life is good and we continue to thank you very much.
Lee
We played last night at Smith's Olde Bar here in Atlanta with Chris Downs and Andrew Hyra, who is preparing to embark on a solo career after several years as half of Billy Pilgrim. Both acts are excellent, and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. And then we got paid, and after the sound guy got paid and the house took their cut of the door, we had $18 to split between the three bands. I gave Chris' band $6 (to pay for part of the dinner they were eating), Andrew refused his share of the money (no one had change for a ten), and Kevin and Greg (Gentle Readers drums and bass, respectively) each got $1. Susan and I took the $10 bill and plan to purchase a celebratory 1/2 tank of gasoline for our kick-ass van.
Brandon Bush, a former Gentle Readers drummer, played Hammond with us and with Andrew, and said for about 60% of the show he was thinking "This is a really good idea." I announced every song as "Building a Mystery," and when we were done unloading the van, Susan told me (in a nice way) that it was funny the first time but not the subsequent times, and that clever lines don't stay clever if you keep repeating them. After dreaming last night that Susan had a head 6 feet tall with pointy rat teeth and a nasty mole, I woke up with a hangover.
Next weekend we will be playing in Indianapolis as part of the Flat Earth Records showcase. Flat Earth is a small Midwestern indie label with an impressive roster, including John Strohm (Blake Babies, Velo Deluxe), United States Three, El Nino and Mysteries of Life. Tentative plans call for a Gentle Readers release on Flat Earth in February, 1998. We think it's an exceptional opportunity, because Flat Earth is well distributed and well promoted and we don't give up a damn thing, which is the way it ought to be in America.
Things in general have been going well for us lately - good press, radio play, good shows. People are saying nice things about us, even if we are starving. Our integrity, however, remains intact, and no matter how circumstances conspire to reduce us to hungry naked paupers, you will NEVER EVER see a Gentle Reader accept the offer of a vile Circus Peanut.
When is Grant Lee Buffalo going to put out a new record? Will this finally be the year I get a pony for Christmas?
We've benefited so much this year from the love and support of our friends. Thanks to you all.
Don't fear the reaper,
Lee
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