American Stars and Bar Bands – An Xperience Column

American Stars and Bar Bands – An Xperience Column – by Rob Skane.

Bar bands. Cover bands. Copy bands. Call them whatever you’d like to. Back in the day, bands like that would often bring us countless hours of hazy, crazy, half-in-the-bag joy. And as young, wannabe musicians, we were in AWE of those bands and those performers. Don’t lie – you know you were. They may have played all cover tunes, or maybe they sprinkled in some of their own tunes, too. We didn’t care, and it didn’t matter. The people in those bands knew how to play, sing, and perform. Probably because they were able to do it five nights a week. And if your band stunk, you didn’t get any work. Instead of blaming the “scene” – whatever that means – you worked hard to get better.

Back then, you either read music and learned the tunes that way, or you learned them by ear. Typically, it was a little bit of both. Even if you didn’t read music, you understood music. There was no tab or any of that stupidity; it was the real deal. You didn’t tell the dudes in your combo that this guitar chord “looks like a bear about to sneeze” or something painfully senseless like that. You had to commit to having some sort of a knowledge base and/or really good ears.  Learning the songs of bands that are already on the radio is a great way to develop your ears, facility on your instrument, and songwriting skills. You kinda can see what works when you backwards engineer the arrangement of a great song. You can get a feel for harmonic structure and for melody, for example. Of course, you have to have a passion for it. That’s what those great bar bands had: a passion for the music and also a respect for the music, too. They listened to as much music as they played. We all should be listening to music – all kinds, all the time.

Almost every town had a great bar band or two who built their followings because they just flat out kicked ass every time they played. Every damn time. Three or four sets of blazing rocknroll performed with a passion for the tunes that were being played – all night long. People used to dance back then, too, like for almost every song. It was a whole thing. I’ll break it down for you, grab a seat. Dudes and dudettes in the same room. Great band playing great songs. You see a girl you might fancy, but it’s too loud to tell her that you’re a Scorpio with a passion for crossword puzzles, so instead you ask her to dance. Anyway, when you dance, you get flirty, maybe even a little hot n’ bothered, who knows? But, you get thirsty, and when you’re already in a bar, and you’re thirsty … you know the rest, I hope. These joints would be jammed with people who loved hanging out with one another and having a good time, all the time. Cigarette machines, yes. Food, no. You were there to get hammered, chase girls, and have your favorite bar band provide the soundtrack to your greatest conquests and most spectacular failures – sometimes in the same night.

Some fabled and incendiary bar bands you need to know about would include, but not be limited to:

The Scratch Band. This was G.E. Smith’s band before he joined Hall and Oates. Rumor had it they could go an entire week without repeating a song. There were the Skeletons, with Lou Whitney on bass; they were the pride of Springfield, Missouri. Obviously, the mighty NRBQ needs to be mentioned; I mean, they were only stupendous. I’m pretty sure they could have sold out a gig at the Black Hole of Calcutta on a Tuesday afternoon, if they were so inclined. And let’s not forget our own Johnny Rabb, who, along with Eddie Angel, tore the roof off of more places than the law should allow. Rabb has always had incredible bands and is not only a gentleman but a true legend.

This is how it was, kids. A bar on almost every corner, typically opposite a church – convenient, don’t you think? Bands were in it for real. They believed in the music, and it showed. 250 gigs a year, or more, for a lot of them. People loved it! I believe it was Saint Ray of Davies who once asked that musical question, “Where have all the good times gone?” These days, a lot of us are thinking that we’re making art and we’re not – the songs kinda stink. Forget the fact that a lot of us can’t sing or play, but that’s the least of it. The biggest crime is that we have ignored the groundwork laid out for us by great musicians who fell by the wayside of obscurity – and they shouldn’t have. Not to be cynical over here, but when I apply myself, I can be pretty damn good at it. So, stop fiddling about, Uncle Ernie, don’t tell me that you “know music” when you think secondary dominants involves a safe word and you don’t know a flat five from a flat tire. As they say in the biz, and by the biz – I mean the industry, “the truth hurts.” Go see a good bar band and get inspired because it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.

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