Listen To: Sittin on top of the world
Having recently wrapped up their tour of various locales, Vini of Vini & the Demons (CD for sale HERE) sent out a lengthy missive to all their fans, detailing the trip and waxing lyrically rhapsodic about things close to the heart of a born-hard bluesman. I enjoyed reading it so much that I emailed the band and asked if I could re-print, and they fingered their knives and cautiously said, "...yeah...go ahead..."
The Slippery Noodle, Indianapolis, Indiana - Thursday, February 3rd, 2005.
This tour was magical from the get-go. Our first stop was The Slippery Noodle in Indianapolis. We arrived there one hour before we had to go on stage and the place was already packed. They were there to hear the Blues and making it very obvious. I think you can figure out that we had to totally hustle to set up and get dressed, under all kinds of pressure from every direction. We had been unavoidably delayed in Chicago, so we left the house late, we were tired from rushing and driving, we hadn't eaten and here we are drinking double shots of Jack and starting a Demon show in a virgin club. It was unnerving to say the least.
But, we were given a chore to perform, one meant to serve as a good omen, by a very special friend of ours. Unbeknownst to us, this little ritual would re-charge our batteries and set the stage for a totally successful night.
Ramune Chisholm, wife of the late, great Malcolm Chisholm, Chess Records' resident recording engineer/god/genius for twenty-five years, gave us four Cuban cigars to light up on stage before the show. But, there was a problem: They had recently banned smoking on stage because a lot of musicians were obviously abusing this privilege. Anyway, Tom freaks and tells the manager that not only do we have this ritual to perform but that Vini will walk right back out to the truck if he can't smoke and drink whiskey on stage. The manager was very cool about it and granted us absolution. We love you Marty...thank you man.
We explained all of this to the audience and they were all about it, hootin' and hollerin' as the matches were struck and the illegal tobacco smoke filled the club (shame on you, Ramune...ha ha). And when we hit that first chord in, Don't You Mess With My Blues, an aura came over me, and for the first time in six years I could actually feel, without a shadow of doubt, the transformation of becoming a Demon. The last thing my body wanted to do at this point was play and sing. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But, the energy surge from that F#9 chord lifted me to another level and I was ready to go bananas.
Pretty freaky. The show was a tremendous success. We sold a lot of CD's and signed so many autographs that my right hand was going numb. We stayed until the wee hours jawing with Marty...he was very pleased. That's one thing we can always count on with you guys: you sure can shake your asses and drink up a bar, and that always makes us look like champs.
A special shout out to Lenny, the man who has run the sound and managed that stage for the last umpteen years. You are the cream of the crop, bro. Thank you for everything especially the "souvenirs." I know the Blues is deep in your heart and soul. You are one of the special people who work hard to keep the Blues thriving. Live long and prosper.
Our executive producer for the Demon album and good bud Steve Dickerson and his brother Matt made the three and a half hour trek to see us and while digging the scene and hassling the women Steve got trapped in a bottle of Knob Creek and had to be airlifted back to Chicago (Ha! you know we love you bro). Matt will always be remembered as the guy who insisted on being the first fan to buy a Demon CD. Actually, he bought fifteen of them right out of the first box we opened.
The Slippery Noodle has a beautiful four bedroom house with all the comforts of home that they make available to bands on tour. Let me tell you...that is the shit. What a joy it is to sleep in a real house after doing a gig on the road. Our thanks to all of the staff at the Noodle. We will be back there very soon.
The Demons would personally like to thank Mr. Tommy McCracken for his help in getting us this gig and for all of the help and support he has given us along the way. Tommy is a consummate performer and has been singing here in Chicago and around the world for many years. He is without a doubt one of the most tireless and energetic entertainers you will ever see. His audiences know beyond a shadow of doubt that they have been entertained by a pro and visited by greatness. Hats off to you Mr. McCracken.
Fat Matt's Rib Shack, Atlanta, Georgia - Saturday, February 5th, 2005.
This was the night we were supposed to be playing at the Super Bowl Extravaganza. You guys already know about this stuff so I'll spare you the details. I have to say, in all honesty, and you can ask the guys about this, we are so glad we turned them down and got this gig. Keep your $3,000.00, oh excuse me, $2,500.00 and your double talk and pseudo-intellectual/neo-conservative/neo-nazi bullshit. I'll keep my integrity and play a little rib shack for my supper and for what the crowd wants to give me. You phony bastards.
Thanks to the man from across the pond Kevin Jennings, who moved things around so the Demons could play. Kevin has kept Fat Matt's booked with Blues bands seven nights a week for the last fifteen years. Blimey mate !!!
This place is what the Demons have always considered to be a Blues band's "rite of passage" gig. Plus, we like playing there because the food is so stupid that it makes you smile when you eat it. If you are a musician and you are curious about what it's like to sing for your supper, you need to gig for what you can get by passing a hat, or in this case, a pickle jar, through an audience. The experience is quite humbling. Matt feeds you and gives you the stage. What happens after that is between you and the audience. Actually, we've never told Matt, but we'd do that gig just for the freakin' ribs.
The place was packed, we tore it apart and no one wanted to leave, including a recently buffed-out, seasoned Demon fan/physics professor, Rob Parks, who had classes in the morning but nonetheless brought some friends whose lives he obviously wanted to ruin by making them see us play the Blues. I thought I heard him say...
"The Second Law of Thermaodynamics cannot help you now, my dear"
but I'm not sure.
One thing will always stick in my memory from this gig: We closed the evening by playing Willie Dixon's Spoonful. I intro-ed the song by talking about Blues Heaven and how cool it was to have had the privilege of knowing Shirli and Butch and what an honor it was to have played at their funerals. There was an overpowering sense of sadness that gripped the room and most of the audience had tears in their eyes. It was just one of those moments...you're on the road, people want to hear about things, you feel like telling them what your life has been like living in Chicago, et cetera.
Well anyway, two ladies who were sitting very close to the stage started crying halfway through the song and at the end they were a mess. They came up to me and started hugging and kissing me and telling me how beautifully painful the song had been for them. I don't know why, maybe they lost someone recently or who knows...does it really matter why they were touched? The point is the Blues will get you. And as far as they were concerned, it was a very healing experience.
Side note: I would personally like to thank Willie Dixon for writing Spoonful and all of the other tunes of his that we play. I have received many hugs, kisses and gotten myself into all kinds of wonderful trouble because of those songs. I will stop there.
Then, we packed up and headed for Claxton Georgia, to see an old friend of ours.
Krispy Brown, Claxton, Georgia
Robert Johnson had a good friend named Wille Brown. They travelled together, rode the rails and played music (file that for later).
When the Demons began travelling the South in the year 2000, we decided that every time we had the chance we would take the backroads instead of the Interstate, just like all of our heroes had done. A piece of cake, to say the least, for a group of white guys driving in a van who were able to stop, eat and pee anywhere they wanted to. But, it wasn't like that for them back in the forties, fifties and sixties. They had to know how to navigate through these KKK, racist, rat-bastard infested towns and counties without getting shot or hanged for taking a leak on the side of the road. In any event, we learned a lot by taking old 301 from Florida thru Georgia. It's crawling with ghosts.
About five years ago, the Demons were on their way back to Florida after playing some gigs in Atlanta, Savannah and Statesboro (home of Blind Wille McTell, author of Statesboro Blues ). It was about 10:30 in the morning and we were starving to death and totally depleted of every vitamin and mineral from A to Z. The dried-up and expired Uncle Bubba Bob's oatmeal raisin cookies, burnt coffee and non-dairy creamer at the truck stop where we gassed up just didn't seem like the right things to be putting into our bodies at the time (remember this is rural Georgia...not too many fine dining options here); plus we weren't trying to commit suicide. If we wanted to do that we would have just gone to Arby's. So, we moved on, hoping to find a place with real food before we all died from a lack of nutrition.
Lo and behold I spotted, what appeared to be, a little restaurant right outside of Claxton. I say appeared to be because it looked like a funeral home that had closed down twenty years prior and there were no cars in the parking lot. I pulled in and parked. As the half-dead Demons got out of the van, they looked up at the sign and all I heard was, "are you out of your !!&$$##!!* mind...what the hell is this place...is it even open...oh man, we're gonna die out here..." and so forth. I don't know if it was just my experience from being on the road hitchhiking for so many years or what...I just knew this place was Mount Olympus. We walked in and there stood two beautiful ladies, dressed in full kitchen whites, ladles in hand saying, "good morning baby, what can I get for you." In front of us was a long steam table full of every American Southern delight you can possibly imagine: Chicken so fresh that it was probably doing its taxes an hour before it wound up on my plate; ribs, ham, pork chops, sausage, beef stew, greens, ungodly creamed corn, mashed potatoes, fried okra, green beans, succotash, deep-fried candied yams, cornbread pancakes, biscuits, gravy, fresh farm butter, and iced tea and lemonade so pure and perfect that getting caught stealing it would be worth a stretch at Leavenworth prison.
We were escorted to the smoking section by a lady carrying two pitchers of tea and lemonade and we began to eat. They must have thought we were Baptists because all we kept saying after every bite and mouthful was, "oh God, oh Jesus Christ, thank you God. and, oh my God." You could literally feel the nutrients being absorbed by your body. I don't think any of the food we ate that morning ever left our bodies. I truly believe it just became a part of us and that was that.
Needless to say, we stopped there every time we made the trek to play in Georgia, even if it was totally out of our way....
"o.k., so Vini, we're doing Atlanta and then we're going to Krispy Brown in the morning, right ?"
One day we finally met the owner of Krispy Brown. He had seen us there many times and was wondering who we were. We told him we were a Blues band and gave him a business card. We talked about the Blues a little bit, about travelling on route 301, et cetera. Then we mentioned Robert Johnson, and as usual, not only was he familiar with him but that spooky look came over his face (saying Robert's name has a habit of doing that to people). So we said goodbye, shook hands and asked him his name...and he said,
"My name is Willie Brown."
No relation of course, but pretty cool regardless.
So, on Sunday, February 6th we left Fat Matt's and hauled ass from Atlanta to Claxton and made the four hour trek in two and a half. I wasn't afraid to speed because I believe that Krispy Brown's food is so good, if not holy, that its reputation has permeated the entire South. Even if we had been pulled over for speeding, all I had to do was tell the trooper we wanted to get to Krispy Brown's before it closed and he would have said,
"...well, hell, I can see that" and given us an escort.
Recording for National Public Radio
The beautiful and lovely Ms. Colleen Lewis, an old school Demon fan and host of NPR's Nothing But The Blues on 89.1 FM at the University of Florida Gainesville, called me in Chicago about a month ago and interviewed me twice via la telefono; one for a Gainesville Sun newspaper article and the other for her radio show. Then she asked if we could help her break in their brand new studio by recording a show live with her when we got to town. Being that we are all suckers for a skirt, we said "yes."
On Monday, February 6th, at Noon, having had no sleep to speak of, we arrived at the University and were swept away into the studio to record a set of Blues with Colleen asking questions in between each song. We blessed the studio by spilling some Jack Daniel's on the carpet, by doing our ritual toast, ignoring the sprinkler system and the fact that we were on State property.
(I told a very nervous studio manager, "...the less you see and the less you hear, the better off you are going to be." He stayed outside for most of the session).
The session lasted about two hours.
The Gainesville Sun sent photograher David Massey to cover the event for the paper and UF called in their crack video man Robert Tyler to chronicle the recording session for the archives and for the Six o'clock News...
(oh, shit...I just realized all of that stuff was videotaped...oh well).
Seasoned recording engineer and station program manager, Bill Beckett was at the helm and I believe he got it all; which also included a couple of Vini Demon public service announcements...I can't wait to hear those...
"Hi. This is Vini Demon. Satan is my grandmother and you're listening to NPR's Nothing But The Blues on Classic 89 WUFT-FM..." (ha ha).
Special thanks to Henri Pensis and his crew for treating us like royalty and making us feel so comfortable and at home.
We were also blessed by having some Demon fans and friends show up to take part in this session with us. Thanks to Frog for the orange and blue Gator cup we used to share the Jack (because spitback sucks). And to the Esquire, Andrew Lopez for ordering the pizza (nice T.V commercial Andrew...I forgot to tell you I saw it). Now there's a breakfast that will help you record a radio show: Jack and pizza. As soon as we get our hands on this thing, we will try to make it available for you to hear. For now, the interview I did with Colleen will definitely satisfy your curiosity...it's pretty heavy duty.
Two Nights @ Eddie C's - February 9th and 10th 2005.
The first night, the Demons were introduced by DJ Charlie McGraw from WIND- 92.7FM, who was bit by the Demons' Blues bug back when he was hosting a concert we did at Silver Springs. He still talks about that day with so much passion that you'd think it was yesterday. It was a pleasure to see him again. He's one of those guys who was born to be a DJ. What a voice. Thank you brother.
Two nights of packed-out insanity. People we haven't seen in four years, just as crazy, just as into the Demons as they were before. All of you are very special to us: our lovely little Mojo bag making, spiritual advising, High Priestess, Lady L; Chuck Linville, one of the Demons' most rabid supporters and saviours from the get-go, who drove all the way from Emporia Kansas; "Beautiful Poison" made it to both shows and is looking as fine as ever (I hope you liked your birthday present); Garry and Diana the Mouse: the couple who will always be nineteen; Dr. Palovcik, Little Man, Jason Hedges, Shamrock McShane, Brian Krashpad, Greg Jones, Krullen, Rose and her famous Dervish wail. I have to stop because I could go on for days. Suffice to say that it was a really fabulous experience and thank the Universe that my ex and the in laws didn't show up. The last thing I needed to hear in the middle of a guitar solo was,
"I tolla you he was a no-gooda bastid !!!"
Eddie Clark videotaped both nights and gave us a DVD. The new laser lights and the smoke machine took a little getting used to but, after we start getting into a gig, we don't even know what planet we're on anyway so it really wasn't a distraction. Thanks Eddie. You the man. Special thanks to "Dirty" for all of his help.
You know, as we travel on this lovely little highway of life, we make a lot of friends; and if we're lucky, just as many enemies. Your enemies are just as important because they teach you how to duck. Thanks to Michael O'Dell for the fabulous and virtually invisible security crew he organized and set in place. They had to bounce a few freako's but The Demons escaped without a scratch (well, I did get some spit on me but that was from a Demon fan).
Thanks to Sam for doing all of the door work. That job can really suck but he really made it happen.
Special thanks to The Unusual Suspects and to Hoyt and the Hotheads for opening the nights for us. You guys kick ass.
Tobacco Road
After a day of rest, we continued on to Miami to revisit the infamous Tobacco Road, one of the most notorious Blues clubs in the U.S. Opened in 1912, it served as a safe hiding place for all of Al Capone's liquor coming up the Miami river during Prohibition. The Who's Who of Blues have played there since the Thirties and here we are returning for a magical second time, revisiting a stage that again, in our minds, would be a privilege to play for free. But, the reality of needing gas money, extra large condoms for Tom and moustache wax for Skibo immediately comes into view and sadly all of the idealism flies out the window...
(must be nice when a poor man gets rich).
Tobacco Road has two stages and the bands play off of each others' breaks: stage one is upstairs and has a full bar and a professional sound and lighting system; stage two is the porch, which has...well, a lot of porch on it...and a Tiki bar. This is the one with all of the blood, sweat and history in it. We were scheduled to play upstairs. Can you guess what happened next ? You got it, we bitched to the manager and told him we wanted to play on the porch. We explained why and he very graciously complied. So, the other band went upstairs and I assume they were very happy about that.
The first time we played Tobacco Road no one went upstairs to see the other band. They just stayed put and waited for us to come back after our breaks. I really felt bad for the band until I saw them downstairs dancing with our crowd. One of the guys said to me,
"Fuck it, we might as well come hang with you guys; there's no one upstairs."
Well, it happened again and this time I didn't feel like shit.
Why ?
Because I know it has nothing to do with me...
it was the power of the Blues keeping those people there.
We started at 10pm and the place was packed. There was a group of about twenty people standing to the right of Skibo and they weren't speaking English. Jack the manager came over to us and said,
"Do you see those people over there ? they're from France...vacationing in Miami. They came to the door and asked if (using a French accent) Vini and the Demons are playing here tonight...they are very popular in our country."
The Miami Herald had run a small article about "...Vini and the Demons: the band that turned down the Super Bowl because the City of Jacksonville wouldn't let them smoke and do their shots on stage are playing at Tobacco Road tonight..." and they hauled ass out to see us. That totally blew our minds.
Side note:
Can one of you freakin' record company people please get off your !!&$$##!!" asses and give us a contract and take us over to France for Christ's sake. We're charting on a slew of radio stations and our album was voted #22 in the top 100 for 2004.
Come on already...I've been doing this since I'm fourteen years old...
I'm gettin' old over here.
Thank you.
(sorry about that...)
Anyway, the night was a tremendous success for all involved. We look forward to going back very there soon.
Then we headed back to Gainesville to visit with our mentor; the man who almost single-handedly created Rock 'n' Roll; The Originator; The Road Runner; His holiness: Mr. Bo Diddley.
The Purple Porpoise
But, before this meeting could take place, there would be one more night of total Blues debauchery that will forever live in our minds. The show we played here on Monday, February 14th, 2005, aptly named, The St. Valentine's Day Blues Massacre, was total hedonism at its best; an extreme indulgence in musical and sensual pleasures. This show was so intense and so radical that its memory has been indelibly etched into our minds and will forever continue to inspire us.
The Purple Porpoise is the site of the original Common Grounds, where the Demons played their very first show at Midnight on October 29, 1999. We were not scheduled to play here during this tour; somebody asked somebody and it just happened.
Immediately word of mouth spread that there was one more Demon show and the place was full of die-hard Demon people; fans that are totally out of their minds: The screamers; the fanatics; the freakos; the dance and drink till you drop crowd who never give a shit about going out on a Monday and having to go to work the next day (like the Artis's Lounge crowd out seeing Billy Branch and the SOB); even our homeless friends showed up. Actually, it was One Legged Jesse who was the first to start spreading the word, something he is very good at; like watching for the cops while we drank the very last bottle of Fred Buhl's Honey Mead on the side of the building. This night was the most intense evening I have ever spent playing the Blues to date and I will never forget it. We love you freakin' guys.
Bo Diddley
"Hey Demons, come on in...let me show you the new stuff I've been workin' on....
Whoa...back up....Holy !!&&$$ Vini, you look like you've really been hangin' at them Chicago rib joints...Damn !"
I was going to tell you everything about this wonderful and clandestine meeting. Then I realized that because it was surreptitiously arranged, I would actually be breaking a trust. Some stuff should just happen and then mist into our memories anyway.
Suffice to say that Bo is healthy, in true form, looking good, kicking ass, his awesome voice is still right on the money, and he is still as crazy as he ever was.
But, most importantly: he loves Vini and the Demons.
p.s.
Bo says, "Tell that %$#**+!!^ Billy Branch to give me a call."
The Jack Daniel's Distillery, Lynchburg, Tennessee
This was inevitable. We knew that one day we had to visit Sour Mash Heaven. Evil Evan and me kept it a secret the whole time; right up until we were getting off of the exit, "...to get some gas." Then Skibo has to say, "Hey, look, this is the exit for the Jack Daniel's Distillery" and the cat was out of the bag. Tom wouldn't have known we were going there until we pulled up to the gate and we wanted to see his face when we did. Harmonica players...hmmf...you gotta watch these guys.
Tom couldn't sit still, he was totally freaking out. I mean for us this was a pretty heavy visit to be making. This was the booze we chose to honor our heroes and you know they all had to have tasted this stuff along the way so...it was very cool.
I hate to sound like a guide or a rep for the company but this tour is awesome... just how everything is done; the millions of gallons of this stuff hidden in buildings in the woods all over the place; the natural spring/stream that goes on so far and deep you can't fit a man into the cavern at the mouth of it; the property and the buildings... it's absolutely beautiful. If you've got two hours and you're coming up to the exit, do it.
The photo of us on the tour is on their website and will be posted on the Demon site as well. We look like a bunch of smiling, hungry geeks.
Chicago
Chicago is beautiful at 4am; the lights, the buildings in the distance as you're driving to it; the sounds of the city as you're driving through it; you can feel it coming alive as it gets closer into view. As we were driving in I was thinking about what Robert and Muddy and Wolf and Willie and Freddie and Little Walter and all the rest were thinking when they took this ride, so many times, so many years ago;
probably how beautiful Chicago looks at 4am.
Truly blue,
Vini Demon
