|MEAT AND POTATOES
Life is not always about Hollywood parties, schmoozing with big name actors/actresses and eating at funny little restaurants on Sunset “just to be seen”. There are the meat and potatoes or should I say, “Fry Bread and Moose Meat” side of the entertainment world. You know, them projects though a bit seedy they still pay the rent and those ridiculously high fuel bills, thank you King George. And for my sins I had one of them projects this weekend.
I got a Hollywood tan this weekend as well. Not one of them perfect tans with all the trimmings, but a tan that outlined the headphones on my head, on one side of my face to boot. Oh the joy of exterior shots eh. The sun was as bright as could be as I struggled with exposure control. Then the wind picked up and gave me even more joy to toil. But such is life and everything does not happen like the book says it should. Fact is, unscripted events have their own list of concerns and not all of them are shot related. Did I mention there was booze?
There was a live band from New Mexico named “Cliques”, John Peach Vigil-Bass Guitar/Vocals, Joseph Vega-Guitar/Vocals, and Rudy Sequar-Drums/Back Up Vocals. And as far as I was concerned, they were a very excellent three-man band and well worth dodging boozed up patrons, the merciless wind, and the glaring sun. I did manage to find a few clouds from time to time though. I have a sneaking suspicion I will be doing a feature on them in the future. New Mexico rocks and these boys can do the deal eh. According to Joe the lead guitar player, they want to revisit the styles of the greats like Hendricks, The Who and Eric Clapton, just to name a few. Kewl beans eh since these cats are Natives and not ones to fit in anyone’s mold.
So here I was in the blazing sun watching the decibels rise as the crowd got more and more toasted and not by the sun either. Oh the joy of drunks and their indispensable knowledge of just about anything under the sun. While I was being sprayed with beer mixed with saliva I tried to have a conversation with one of the inebriated guests. Actually, I was trying to guide him away from my gear. Should have worn an umbrella, the over spray was atrocious. Towards the end of the day I was ready to get out of dodge. I was counting the milliseconds as the clock ticked away. Then in the distance, my directional mic picked up some gal drunk on her buns. She was plotting to disrupt the “camera guy”. Not a good thing since she was sloppy drunk and falling all over everything with her over filled cup of suds.
In what seemed like an eternity the band was done with their last set. In a flash I was packing my gear before Drunkzilla came to anoint me with her chalice of fermented hops. Then as if by que I was blessed with about a half cup of lukewarm beer. And it spilled into my camera case to my obvious chagrin. Fortunately, my camera was still on the tripod and not in the case exactly where the brewskie was spilled. Gawd…….
After I was all packed and done, I was asked to stay but alas, all good things must come to an end. I bailed like the devil himself was after me. By then it was dark and I was so done you could stick a fork in me.
But out of all of this I did manage to find a way bitchen rock group from the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico. And this group The Clique’s were well worth checking out. Later I found out John Peach Vigil/bass/vocals was the grandfather of Joseph Vega/lead guitar/vocals. That was priceless to me to see such a generational split between the two yet they simply jammed to the tunes such as Wolly Bully by Sam The Shame and the Pharos, Santana and other way kewl tunes of the 60’s, and 70’s. Then they played “Sweet Home Alabama” and it was bad to the bone. For a moment there was no gap in age as the two of them played in tandem with the flare of true rock and rollers. Funny how music can bridge the gap from one-generation to another if someone takes the time to try.
Creativity is the byproduct of a fertile mind