THE ROMAN SPRING of toomanycats

[Rollin Hand]

I, too, find that as I age, I like to be "comfortable." The idea of hitting the road for that sounds like hell to me too. Heck, taking the kids to the museum is an expedition.

I sure hope this isn't the beginning of the end for you with this band, because playing that material must be a hoot.

[toomanycats]

I, too, find that as I age, I like to be "comfortable." The idea of hitting the road for that sounds like hell to me too. Heck, taking the kids to the museum is an expedition.

I sure hope this isn't the beginning of the end for you with this band, because playing that material must be a hoot.

No, I don't look at it like the end at all. I just felt obligated to tell them all of that so they know up front and there's no misunderstandings down the road. If the time came that they really did want to travel overnight for gigs, then either the money would have to be sufficient that it made it worth my while, or they'd have to find a replacement for me.

There's also the very serious consideration that Mrs TMC does not feel safe when left home alone, for reasons that are too disturbing to go into.



Not interested in slumming it on the road.

[sabasgr68]

I've had some very frank and honest conversations with my bandmates about the fact that I am three decades older than them, highlighting some of the conflicts I've already anticipated due to the disparity in our ages. My mind always races ahead and plays out all the moves on the chess board; that's just my nature.

Musically speaking I am very compatible with these guys, and I very much like them personally. But the following is an example of the type of conflict I'm alluding to.

They brought up the subject of playing a gig at Myrtle Beach, and asking how much it would be worth to travel there to play. The number 1K was thrown out there, and they quickly deduced that fuel cost to get there would be around $250, and a single hotel room at least another $250. That would leave the band $500 to split four ways for traveling nine hours round trip, and spending the night together in a single hotel room. Add in the other random expenses, like food and drink, and it's pretty much a forgone conclusion that it would actually cost one money to play such a gig. There have also been allusions made to touring.

I readily admit that taking on such things has value, that it pays returns, and there is worth to the experience . . . at least for them. When I was in my late teens I was desperate for any opportunity to fling myself out into the world, see new places, and broaden my horizons. I'd grown up in a small town, though I instinctively realized that, as Duke Leto asserts in Dune, “A person needs new experiences. It jars something deep inside, allowing them to grow." I spent my late teens and early 20s accumulating such experiences, most of which didn't profit me monetarily whatsoever, and which often exposed me to hardship and danger, though which where invaluable in shaping my character, informing my perspective, and educating me in the ways of the world. While my bandmates deserve the opportunity to have their own Bildungsroman, it would be both comical and absurd for me to play that role at my age.

To be completely honest, the idea of traveling across the county in a van or RV with a group of 22 year old guys, living like gypsies, staying in hotels every night, is my idea of hell. I've had all those experiences, and much more; it's conquered territory for me. I'm in a different place, with different aspirations and expectations about life, different priorities and responsibilities.

I used the phrase "Putting the cart in front of the horse" with them (which made me feel so hokey and old), suggesting that at present we should place our focus on climbing to the top of the local music scene. There's such opportunity in this immediate area, with a hundred venues that book live music within a twenty-five mile radius, that traveling and touring to acquire gigs is
unnecessary. For the time being we can both hone our craft and make a little bread without ever having to not sleep in our own beds.

But ya see, as I re-read that last paragraph I recognize, being able to be objective, how much I really do sound like an old man.

Good reflection...

There´s a verse in the Good Book for that: when you were a child, you thought and acted like a child; when you became a man, you put the ways of childhood behind you - something along those lines -. There´s the time for being a kid, and there´s the time for being a man.

You´re not old like old, but certainly you´re not a 20ish young man. 30 years in between do make a difference - most of times for good -.

Live this adventure to the fullest until it just becomes a nuisance, an inconvenience to you - and the Mrs. -. Or so I think...

[nomadh]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

[toomanycats]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

The beard has taken on a life of its own. I feel like it owns me and I'm trapped in an image with it. To cut it off at this point would be like Crystal Gayle cutting her hair, or Gene Shalit tossing his Grocho Marx glasses mustache and throwing out his bowties. But you see, it's not just how I look in relation to my millennial bandmates, but the fact that I say things to them like that previous sentence. They probably have no idea who Crystal Gayle and Gene Shalit are, and in the blank stare I receive when I say things like that I feel the damning accusation, whether intentional or not on their part, "You are old!"

[mickey]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

The beard has taken on a life of its own and I feel like it owns me. I'm trapped by it. To cut it off would be like Crystal Gayle cutting her hair, or Gene Shalit tossing his Grocho Marx glasses and mustache and throwing out his bowties. But you see, it's not just how I look in relation to my millennial bandmates, but the fact that I say things to them like that previous sentence. They probably have no idea who Crystal Gale and Gene Shalit are, and in the blank stare I receive when I say things like that I feel the damning accusation, whether intentional or not on their part, "You're old!"

Before we retired to Florida, Crystal Gayle was the lady who lived at the end of the block. Brenda Gayle Webb Gatzimos to be exact.
And I probably misspelled Gatzimos.

[toomanycats]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

The beard has taken on a life of its own and I feel like it owns me. I'm trapped by it. To cut it off would be like Crystal Gayle cutting her hair, or Gene Shalit tossing his Grocho Marx glasses and mustache and throwing out his bowties. But you see, it's not just how I look in relation to my millennial bandmates, but the fact that I say things to them like that previous sentence. They probably have no idea who Crystal Gale and Gene Shalit are, and in the blank stare I receive when I say things like that I feel the damning accusation, whether intentional or not on their part, "You're old!"

Before we retired to Florida, Crystal Gayle was the lady who lived at the end of the block. Brenda Gayle Webb Gatzimos to be exact.
And I probably misspelled Gatzimos.

I can understand why they went with her professional name as we know it.

"Crystal Gayle" sounds county to me, with a poetic and evocative quality bringing to mind fantasy and Southern winds.

"Brenda Gatzimos" sounds like a stripper from Hoboken . . . not that there's anything wrong with that.

[Lacking Talent]

Capture.JPG


Sounding good, nice playing! Curious as to what's up with the bandages, though.

That gig was on a Friday. It was only on Monday of that week that I connected with these guys and they threw a list of 35 songs at me to perform at the gig. This is a considerable workload, though it's my own doing, as I threw down the gauntlet by saying, "I'll play the show in 5 days," and they picked it up and said, "You've got the job, learn these.” As I had been I who was insistent that I could deliver on performing on such short notice, the onus was completely on me to be prepared, and I spent a crazy amount of time practicing that week.

Fingertips can only take so much rubbing against a metal wire before they wear through, regardless of if you have callouses developed or not. It's not the shredding type playing that does it, but the bending and vibrato. Over the years I've used crazy glue, which can help to some degree, though it will wear down quite quickly. Then I found this Johnson & Johnson Tough Cloth Tape which is thin, very tacky, water resistant, and incredibly tough. It also minimally interferes with my touch sensitivity. It has been a Godsend, allowing me to continue practicing and playing when I would otherwise have worn holes in my fingertips and had to quit. If not for that tape I would not have been able to make it through that show.


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Thanks for elaborating, very helpful info!

[toomanycats]

Here's an update on the current situation:

We have gigs booked every weekend through July and August.

This Friday we're at a bar called Big Al's Pub.

The following weekend I'm performing on Friday night as a duo with a guy named Tibbs who I've played with for the last couple years. This is the guy I was performing with at the Barracuda Taproom in Hickory in February of 2021, which is where the stalker conspired to get herself formally introduced to me after actively stalking me for several months [as per her own documentation]. Tibbs' girlfriend, a woman named Robbie, was the one who introduced the stalker to me.

Then I'm playing Saturday at a bar called The Turn in Denver NC with Lucid Outbreak. Sunday afternoon I'm playing with Lucid Outbreak again at a biker bar in Statesville NC called Clutches, on the the bill with half a dozen other groups. It is a show to raise money for a family who had several of its members killed and horrifically injured in an incident with a drunk driver. I've met so many people in the local music scene who habitually drive while extremely intoxicated that it seems perverse for musicians to play a benefit for victims of a drunk driver; it's perverse on the level of Nixon giving the pill popping Elvis a badge from the Federal Bureau of Narcotics. Still, I'm gladly donating my time to help this family, just as I've played many shows to raise money for no kill animal shelters. As with so much else related to my situation as a working musician, I've learned that I must ride the tiger.

The weekend after that we're at a very popular venue called Two Trees (formerly Twin Oaks) which has generated significant controversy because they have a confederate battle flag behind the stage. There are bands who have shown up for scheduled gigs, then refused to play unless it was taken down. If you knew the owner of that bar, and knew the patrons, including the countless 1% club members who are there on any given day (lots of them are black folk too), then you would understand that under no circumstance is that flag coming down. This is in no way a commentary on how I feel about it, because, you know, we don't talk politics here — I'm just saying that's how it is.

And so on and so forth through the rest of the Summer. So things have picked up for me a little bit, though I am anxious about a gig we have booked next month at a bar called Corner Pocket, which is in the territory the stalker has warned me to stay out of. I'm terrified of this woman who has revealed herself as the Jimmy Savile * of Hickory, NC. She can apparently sexually harass, molest, and threaten anybody she wants to and get away with it. I know she's watching me, even as I type these words on this forum. This predator continues to harass me with disturbing emails and has most recently tortured me with a message about terminating her own life unless I speak with her. It is an excruciating moral dilemma. I care little about her life, though I have the burden of knowing that there is a molested child in the care of this suicidal psychopath. I have already made strenuous attempts to contacted the Catawba County Sheriff, The Family Guidance Center in Hickory, and the North Carolina Coalition Against Sex Assault about the stalker, literally pleading to show them the evidence I have collected. What more can I do?

As far as the band, I'm trying to take on the role of disciplining them musically. They are like broncos . . . wild, full of enthusiasm and spirit, but undisciplined, unfocused, and very inefficient in the use of our practice time. I'm reminded of a story about Black Sabbath when Tony Iommi briefly left his mates in Birmingham to joined Jethro Tull, who was already established. While Tony didn't stay with Jethro Tull, he was profoundly impacted by the seriousness with which that band approached their craft. When he went back to his band members in Sabbath he brought those lessons he had learned, whipping the band into shape and forcing them to get serious. That's what I'm trying to communicate to these guys. They have so much raw ability and energy, but it has to be harnessed and directed to realize it's full potential.

* Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile OBE KCSG (/ˈsævɪl/; 31 October 1926 – 29 October 2011) was an English media personality and DJ. Savile was well known in the United Kingdom for his eccentric image, charitable work, and hosting the BBC shows Top of the Pops and Jim'll Fix It. After his death, hundreds of allegations of sexual abuse made against him were investigated, leading the police to conclude that he had been a predatory sex offender and possibly one of Britain's most prolific. There had been allegations during his lifetime, but they were dismissed and accusers were ignored or disbelieved.

[Lacking Talent]

Better stock up!

[toomanycats]

Here's a short clip from the gig this weekend.

[nomadh]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

The beard has taken on a life of its own and I feel like it owns me. I'm trapped by it. To cut it off would be like Crystal Gayle cutting her hair, or Gene Shalit tossing his Grocho Marx glasses and mustache and throwing out his bowties. But you see, it's not just how I look in relation to my millennial bandmates, but the fact that I say things to them like that previous sentence. They probably have no idea who Crystal Gayle and Gene Shalit are, and in the blank stare I receive when I say things like that I feel the damning accusation, whether intentional or not on their part, "You're old!"

Or maybe cutting it will detatch your stalker?
At least prove you still have a neck in there somewhere.

[Rollin Hand]

Great new story tmc. Glad you're landing on your feet. And the new band sounds tight. I know what you mean about young energy. I so want that again. When I took over my band from the old bass player I needed a new bass and a helper kid who was a part time sound guy and guitar player had done a bit of stand in for the bass player. So we asked him to sit in a bit and he became the permanent. He was an enthusiastic high energy, strong back, soundingboard for me. I couldn't have put up with the recalcitrant 3 for a month iif it wasn't for him and his energy. A year Later he got a girlfriend and dropped out. At that point the band was such a misery I shut her down.
The touring may become the stacking point for you guys but hopefully that's a long way off.

You mention feeling like the old guy in the band but that's not the look to me. It's more the duck dynasty guy in the röck band. You still look fairly young, not even any grey. I think you're hiding your inner rockstar. You'd fit in there like spandex pants if you lost the beard or went something ironic like the guitarist from rival sons or jack sparrow thing. Have you considered that? I say lose the bluegrass beard and people would think you were < 10 years older.

The beard has taken on a life of its own and I feel like it owns me. I'm trapped by it. To cut it off would be like Crystal Gayle cutting her hair, or Gene Shalit tossing his Grocho Marx glasses and mustache and throwing out his bowties. But you see, it's not just how I look in relation to my millennial bandmates, but the fact that I say things to them like that previous sentence. They probably have no idea who Crystal Gayle and Gene Shalit are, and in the blank stare I receive when I say things like that I feel the damning accusation, whether intentional or not on their part, "You're old!"

Or maybe cutting it will detatch your stalker?
At least prove you still have a neck in there somewhere.

Neck is stable.

[toomanycats]

EPISODE IV: A NEW CABINET

In the process of making this post I discovered a topic that doesn't exist on AGF, and that is one for cabinets. If you want to post about either tube or solid state amps, there's a specific place . . . but cabinets, or speakers themselves, no dice. I remember very early on in the creation of this forum there was some discussion about what categories to have. I should have went to that meeting.

For the last couple weeks I've realized I need more firepower for playing with this band. I've got a bad mofo 18 watt Bluesbreaker type head that I use to power a 2X12, and it's all the amp I've ever needed for playing bars and small clubs. I've actually never had to run it past half power. Of course it can also be micd, which through a PA provides all the FOH and monitor volume I need. But there's something about playing through a 4X12 with sufficient stage volume that provides a rumble and roar that you don't get through a 2X12 or a PA. Plus I'm dealing with the hardest hitting drummer I've ever played with. This kid really whacks those skins and I find myself struggling to get over the top of him. So I've been looking locally for a good 4X12 cabinet.

There's been nothing on craigslist, at the pawnshops, or at the closest Guitar Center in Hickory North Carolina. I widened my search to the used inventory of Guitar Center in Charlotte and came across a Marshall Origin 4X12 slant cab priced at $199.95, which seemed like a ridiculously low price. I'd read that these cabinets sounded great, and they also looked super cool and retro to boot. The listing was so new that there was no picture yet.

My first thought was that at that price it had to be beat to piss, but the description said it was in great condition.

My second thought was that it was an empty cabinet with no speakers. But a call to the store confirmed that the speakers were indeed in the cabinet. The guys on the phone were very informal and friendly, saying that they didn't need me to pay anything up front, that they'd put the cabinet on layaway for me using just my first name and phone number, and that it would be waiting for me on Monday. I didn't think I'd be able to drive into Charlotte before then because I had gigs all weekend. So it was left at that.

But early Saturday morning I got to thinking what an absurd deal it really was, and that there was a very real possibility that cabinet would be sold before Monday. Sellers on Reverb were asking north of $550 for used Origin 4X12 slant cabinets. So I decided to do a commando mission Saturday AM and drive to Guitar Center North Charlotte to scoop up the Marshall cabinet. As soon as I walked in the door it was staring at me, big and beautiful. The previous owner had put genuine Marshall casters on it! As I had suspected, people had already been trying to buy it from out under me. I peeled off eleven twenty dollar bills from my grubby bank roll, got my change, and wheeled that bad boy out to the car.

My initial thought was that with the money saved by getting such a bargain I could upgrade the stock speakers to Greenbacks or Vintage 30s, but the stock speakers are staying because this cab sounds incredible as is. It has that unmistakably Marshall tone. It is smooth, with excellent break up, great detail, and massive sonic girth. You won't hear me denigrate MDF as a cab building material after playing the Origin 4X12.

Now I realize that I need a 50 watt head to properly power the 4X12. I've got a line on a 50 watt Laney Pro Tube Lead head of 1986 vintage.


Last night before the show. Great outdoor stage, plenty of room, and we got to play loud. I'll be hauling it all out again for another outdoor show at 2 o'clock this afternoon.

Step into my "office." Note that the wheels are removed from the Marshall cab so it won't roll off the back of the stage. I'm trying hard to minimize my Spinal Tap moments.

[littlebadboy]

Congratulations on the new band and gigs! Great set list!

The last time I performed on the main stage at Apps and Taps, about six months ago.
261793675_122772546867904_3645090684563648100_n.jpg

I do not mean any disrespect, but this picture gave me thoughts of John Petrucci playing an LP. I watched him play in Chicago a few months back.

[toomanycats]

Congratulations on the new band and gigs! Great set list!

The last time I performed on the main stage at Apps and Taps, about six months ago.
261793675_122772546867904_3645090684563648100_n.jpg

I do not mean any disrespect, but this picture gave me thoughts of John Petrucci playing an LP. I watched him play in Chicago a few months back.

Already this weekend I've been referred to as "Wizard," "Long Beard," "Black Beard," "The Wild Man," "Mr Swag," "The Amish Guy," and "Rasputin."
If this is what they're saying to my face, Lord knows what they're calling me behind my back.
So if you're saying I look like John Petrucci, I'll take that as a compliment.

[PoodlesAgain]

the names you mention all sounds like folks like you, a colorful, memorable dude.

Can you play with a pirate hat and an eye patch..?

That would open up to a whole new range of nicknames

[toomanycats]

The Monday morning gig report:

The Sunday afternoon show was absolutely brutal! And I don't mean in the sense of being bad-azz and heavy, but rather because it was a test of physical and emotional endurance.

We played from 2:30 pm until 4:00 pm, in the direct sun, with no cover. It was a humid 95 degree North Carolina Summer day. The stage was an awesome pro setup, though it was the flatbed of an 18 wheeler, all raw metal with a black floor, sitting in the direct sun in an asphalt parking lot, with a metal building directly behind us. I was sweating profusely within a minute of bringing my gear up on that toaster oven turned into a stage, and from that point on it was just a steady and relentless broil. It was hotter than a three balled tomcat.

The set-up of the band was very weird. From left to right in a straight line it was myself, then the singer, then the bass player, then the drummer elevated on a platform. It was almost impossible for me to connect with the drummer using eye contact, head nods, and the other visual cues by which we typically communicate. Additionally, there were issues with the mix in our monitors. I felt very disconnected from my fellow band members during the show.

A word on attire: I don't wear cargo shorts, flip flops, and a tank top to perform a rock show, and I don't care how damn hot it is. It is my belief that it is extraordinary important to look the part because a rock show is as much a visual as a musical spectacle. You don't think Jimi was hot in that getup he wore at Woodstock when everyone else was wearing cut off jeans or butt naked? Or how about Jim Morrison in his leather pants in Miami? It's a performance, it only lasts a short time, pics and video are being taken that will represent you to a much wider audience than the people who are physically there at that moment, and will also be more enduring . . . so suck it up buttercup and dress the damn part!

In line with this thinking I dressed all in black, with gator skin cowboy boots, and a felt western style hat. Basically your standard G&R circa 1987 look. Add in the hair and beard, and it was HOT.


It was so hot that the tuning on my guitars was fluctuating wildly. I'd tune them, then five minutes later they'd be a half-step off. They were actually sweating! I'd never seen that before. My pedals were in the direct afternoon sun and I could barely make out whether they were on or off. I had to stand with one leg casting a shadow on my BOSS TU-3 tuner to make it usable at all.

In addition to struggling with these other serious adversities during the performance, as I looked out into the crowd my blood froze as I spotted my stalker standing to my extreme left in front of the stage. She leered at me with those same crazy eyes I saw coming at me the previous New Years Eve when she sexually assaulted me onstage at a venue called Waterside, in Catawba, NC. They were cold, dead eyes, like two piss holes in a snow bank.

I scanned the crowd, searching for Patty's accomplice Victoria, who had warned me that I'd be seeing her "real soon." I knew that this was not an idle threat, as she trafficked in violence. Several months ago I was shown security footage from a venue called Mountain View Pub in which Vic's boyfriend, after drunkenly attacking patrons in the bar, and then shoving a hulking bouncer who intervened, was beat down to the pavement. Vic was right there in the fray, buzzing around like an angry hornet. She likes to fight. Fortunately, I did not see her in the crowd at Clutches.

The week before this gig the stalker left a message on Lucid Outbreak’s Facebook page inquiring about the exact time each band performed. This filled me with terrible apprehension. I called the Sheriff about this woman back in May. When the cops came to my home I showed them the evidence of her stalking, threats, and many messages demonstrating that she is mentally unstable. I assumed that they would question her about her actions and that such an official visit would back her off. It hasn't worked out that way. I'm now wondering if the police actually did anything, as she has continued sending me harassing messages, and is now so bold as to openly stalk me in public. I warned my bandmates about her, expressing how afraid I was, but I don't think they get it.

The reason for my acute fear upon seeing the stalker in front of that stage was that just two weeks ago, on 7/4/22, I received an email from her saying, "I just cannot go on with my life." Damn right I was scared of this crazy, obsessed, suicidal woman! I didn't know if she was going to kill herself in front of me, or kill me, or what crazy thing she might attempt. It is abhorrent how she conspicuously poses with a child as a prop in her Facebook pic, while at the same time she is sending me messages about ending her own life. She's gaslighting the public with the facade of being a benign old grandma.

As a measure of just how crazy this stalker is, she has another personality she refers to as "Felicia." She may be schizophrenic. The State of North Carolina should be involved in this situation. My stalker also believes that I'm a person named "Frisco," that we were married in a past life, and that we're destined to be together. Even after she sexually assaulted me (after which I fired her as my manager and I told her to stay away from me), she has continued sending me messages signed "Felicia." For the year that she acted as my manager she bombarded me with references to Felicia, Frisco, ghosts, numerology, and the full moon. She asserted that we were "twin flames." She gave me a stinky bag of herbs and told me to burn it in my house as some type of ritual. She regularly consulted with a psychic who encouraged her insane delusions. Her mind ran riot with New Age clap trap and poor epistemic agency. It was like dealing with Nancy Reagan. She even claimed that she was an empath and could feel my thoughts. That's not all she wanted to feel, as she vulgarly expressed to me throughout the time I worked with her. Her advances escalated through a series of progressively more bold sexual assaults, her most aggressive attack occurring while I was onstage performing.

She often spoke about death — her dying, me dying, other people dying. She repeatedly made reference to having sexual contact with me in the context of death, of wanting to kiss me before she dies. To be stalked by a person who had so frequently recorded such disturbing ideation, who communicated these thoughts to me through a schizo persona, and knowing that law enforcement had not investigated her after her harassing and predatory behavior was brought to their attention . . . that was chilling. Yesterday afternoon I was exposed, vulnerable, completely at the mercy of this psycho while I was performing.

As I performed I observed as this mentally disturbed lunatic glared at me and began lifting her arm. Something dark was in her hand! Was it a gun? I felt like a sacrificial lamb on that stage. Was this the day she had chosen to kiss me before dying? I felt a warm trickle running down my leg and realized that I had involuntarily pissed myself! My mind raced, calculating that I had just about one second to drop my precious Custom Shop Les Paul and dive down behind the stage monitor in front of me. In those seconds of indecision over the safety of my beloved R0 I was risking taking a couple bullets.

Millisecond theatrical dream sequence:
I imagined the sirens blaring after the shooting, and the cops who would descend upon the scene in the following minutes. Hours later some officer would publicly proclaim to the media: “We have no idea what motivated her attack and we can’t comment because it is currently under investigation." Meanwhile, my body would have been bagged up and put in the meat wagon. Mrs tmc would be contacted sometime in the following days. At the same time my stalker would be sitting in the psych ward of some hospital, where she should have already been after I contacted the police in May.

Snapping back to the present reality, I recognized that the black object the stalker had in her hand was a phone, not a handgun. She held it up and pointed it at me. My mind swooned and I struggled to maintain my composure and remember my guitar parts. I had to resist the instinct of fear and raw animal self-preservation which told me to flee, seek cover, and hide. Over the course of ten minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the predator slowly, methodically traversed an arc across the front of the stage, all the while maintaining a clear line of sight between her and I. She continued recording as she went. The shark was circling the boat! In this manner she slowly traveled to my extreme right, until I eventually lost sight of her as she moved outside the range of my peripheral vision. This heightened my anxiety even more, as the stairs leading onto the stage were behind me and to my right. From experience I knew that this was the position from where she often lurked and watched. I kept anxiously looking over my shoulder for the stalker to spring and grab me from behind. It is clear that I have not escaped the stalker, that she will continue to harass me with impunity, with the police doing nothing to restrain her. Honestly, nobody should ever have to worry about crap like this while performing.

I played this gig for charity, to raise money for people who have been devastated by the actions of a drunk driver. It is unconscionable that this psychopath Patty, who bar hops around Hickory with a child in her vehicle while drunk, had the nerve to come here and terrorize me while I performed onstage.





I never drink a lot of fluids during a gig, because, well, if you're a gigging musician then you understand the pee thing. You go before a show, you go again during set breaks, you essentially hold it the rest of the time. Pissing is this great unspoken factor that in many ways governs the entire performance. For this particular show we played 90 minutes straight through with no break. I wasn't properly hydrating during the show and I'd lost fluids by involuntarily relieving myself down my leg out of sheer terror.

After the gig I did not see the stalker. I lingered to briefly speak with a guy I recognized in the crowd named Randy. I very intentionally wanted Randy to know I saw him there. He is one of the many musicians the stalker previously booked me with. Along with another musician named Allen, the stalker has also used this guy Randy to facilitate her stalking activity, by which I mean, set me up. I'm not exactly sure how the stalker gets these men to help her out. She does book them gigs, and she also claimed to have had sexual contact with them both. Regarding this guy Randy, just four months ago, on March 11th, I was playing a gig at a place called 3 Hermanos. He was sitting at a table close to where I was performing. The stalker suddenly entered the room, sat down in the booth with Randy, leered at me for the rest of the set, and then got in my face as soon as I finished performing. When I ignored her she had a histrionic crying tantrum, causing a scene in the middle of the restaurant. It was obvious that her intent was to make trouble for me. Then there is Allen. In April I was trying to get my cut of the pay from the last gig I ever performed with Allen. Four weeks had passed since the job and he was still giving me the run around, crying poverty, and continuing to put me off. I finally pinned him down and he stipulated that I travel to his record store in Hickory to collect the money. When I got there he was in the parking lot building a shelf. Just a couple minutes after I arrived, as I stood on the pavement talking, the stalker aggressively swerved into the parking lot, her crazy eyes locked onto me through her windshield. I fled the scene as rapidly as possible, and I do mean literally ran to my vehicle and sped away. This is what I mean when I say that Randy and Allen have both set me up to facilitate the stalking activity of this sex assailant. These are not even the only such incidents to have occurred. It is disgusting that these two men are assisting a deranged woman in stalking me. The email below reveals her close connection with Allen and Randy while demonstrating her need for sex and willingness to pay for it. Such vulgar sexual innuendos, suggestions, sneaky cajoling disguised as jokes, and outright propositions were typical of her messages.

On 1/11/22 I sent Patty my final response in answer to her assertion that I must passively submit to physical contact as a part of our work arrangement.

I didn't realize it while playing yesterday afternoon, or during the marathon to get my gear off stage (we were the first of six bands playing), or even on the drive home . . . but I believe I may have heat stroke. When I got home I was extremely exhausted, thirsty, and fuzzy-headed. Mrs toomanycats said I looked sunburnt, and as I type this I do feel the telltale sting of a sunburn on my face and forearms. However, even as I lay in bed last night, after I had rehydrated and was trying to fall asleep, my heart rate still seemed high. It was the terror of my stalker actually being at the gig, knowing that there was nobody to stop her, and not knowing what she might do. I have all the symptoms of PTSD.

I am also greatly disturbed by the complete and utter breakdown of law and order in society. This lawlessness isn't an abstract concept to me, like a hypothesis or a conspiracy theory about widespread government ineptitude. I am living the consequences of the fact that nobody is in charge, nobody is responsible, that lunatics are allowed run amok, and that I apparently have no right to equal protection under the law. In a civilized society this depraved sociopath would not have been allowed to terrorize me in broad daylight. How long can this go on for before the law is compelled to do something?

[Partscaster]

Your' wax potting probably slumped a bit, too.

[SalteeDog]

Just checking in here after being away for a while. Glad to see you are still rocking @TMC even with your stalker troubles and all.

I dig what you say about wearing the correct attire for a show - maybe you need to invest in a pair of 'Daisy Dukes'?

[toomanycats]

I've made reference to "young energy" in this thread, and as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. This is the type of thing I'm talking about:

Anyways, this is our bass player, Aaron Bassinger. At my first band practice he walked in carrying a bottle of bourbon. He's an incredible multi instrumentalist. He likes to go fast on motorcycles. And on another positive note, his STD test recently came back negative. Rock & F*ckin' Roll!

A lady painted us while we were playing. Apparently somebody bought it for several hundred bucks.

[nomadh]

Congratulations on the new band and gigs! Great set list!

The last time I performed on the main stage at Apps and Taps, about six months ago.
261793675_122772546867904_3645090684563648100_n.jpg

I do not mean any disrespect, but this picture gave me thoughts of John Petrucci playing an LP. I watched him play in Chicago a few months back.

Already this weekend I've been referred to as "Wizard," "Long Beard," "Black Beard," "The Wild Man," "Mr Swag," "The Amish Guy," and "Rasputin." And this is just what they say to my face; Lord knows what they're calling me behind my back.
So if you're saying I look like John Petrucci, I'll take that as a compliment.

Rasputin is pretty good. Black beard too. Maybe go by them to leave less of a trail for the stalker

[nomadh]

The Monday morning gig report:

The Sunday afternoon show was absolutely brutal! And I don't mean in the sense of being bad-azz and heavy, but rather because it was a test of physical endurance.

We played from 2:30 through 4:00 in the afternoon in the direct sun, no cover. It was a humid 95 degree North Carolina Summer day. The stage was an awesome pro setup, though it was the flatbed of an 18 wheeler, all raw metal with a black floor, sitting in the direct sun in an asphalt parking lot, with a metal building directly behind us. I was sweating profusely within a minute of bringing my gear up on that toaster oven turned into a stage, and from that point on it was just a steady and relentless broil. It was hotter than a three balled tomcat.


1756924D-DE23-4940-BD17-31A2DB0BDD02.jpeg


The set-up of the band was very weird. From left to right in a straight line it was myself, then the singer, then the bass player, then the drummer elevated on a platform. It was almost impossible for me to connect with the drummer using eye contact, head nods, and the other visual cues by which we typically communicate. Additionally, there were issues with the mix in our monitors. I felt very disconnected from my fellow band members during the show.

A word on attire: I don't wear cargo shorts, flip flops, and a tank top to perform a rock show, and I don't care how damn hot it is. It is my belief that it is extraordinary important to look the part because a rock show is as much a visual as a musical spectacle. You don't think Jimi was hot in that getup he wore at Woodstock when everyone else was wearing cut off jeans or butt naked? Or how about Jim Morrison in his leather pants in Miami? It's a performance, it only lasts a short time, pics and video are being taken that will represent you to a much wider audience than the people who are physically there at that moment, and will also be more enduring . . . so suck it up buttercup and dress the damn part!

In line with this thinking I dressed all in black, with gator skin cowboy boots, and a felt western style hat. Basically your standard G&R circa 1987 look. Add in the hair and beard, and it was HOT.

The tuning on my guitars was fluctuating wildly. I'd tune them, then five minutes later they'd be a half-step off. They were actually sweating! I'd never seen that before. My pedals were in the direct afternoon sun and I could barely make out whether they were on or off. I had to stand with one leg casting a shadow on my BOSS TU-3 tuner to make it usable at all.

In addition to struggling with these other serious adversities during the performance, as I looked out into the crowd I noticed my Stalker standing to my extreme left in front of the stage. While I desperately tried to to pay attention to what I was doing, I also kept one eye on the predator as she traversed a slow arc from left to right across the parking lot, filming as she went. The shark was circling the boat! The Stalker eventually disappeared outside my peripheral vision on the right side and I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure she hadn't walked up the stairs behind me onto the stage. Honestly, nobody should ever have to worry about crap like this while performing.





I never drink a lot of fluids during a gig, because, well, if you're a gigging musician then you understand the pee thing. You go before a show, you go again during set breaks, you essentially hold it the rest of the time. Pissing is this great unspoken factor that in many ways governs the entire performance. For this particular show we played 90 minutes straight through with no break. I wasn't hydrating during the show, I mean other than Perrier and vodka, which was no doubt hurting me more than helping me. I didn't realize it while playing, or during the marathon to get my gear off stage (we were the first of six bands playing), or even on the drive home . . . but I believe I have heat stroke. When I got home I was extremely exhausted, thirsty, and fuzzy-headed. My heart rate seemed high while I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. Mrs toomanycats said I looked sunburnt, and as I type this I do feel the sting on my face and forearms.

I'm waiting for photos and videos of this weekends shows to appear and then I'll post them here.

Add a canopy with shadecloth side curtains to the gear list. Possibly 2. Something with a vent top but the sides need full airflow. Velcro so 1 side can be easily moved as the sun sneaks in from a side.
Oh, And ask the "pro" stage crew what they were thinking not having shade..

[nomadh]

That is the question. What can you wear onstage thats both cool looking and COOL feeling. Can it be done? I know pat travers spent his first few years onstage barefoot. I watched a young band from out of town at a festival and they all showed up in board shorts because they hit the beach, the guitarist broke his foot they all were stuck in emergency and barely made the show.
Maybe you dont have to dress rnr if you have a good rnr backstory to cover. I think you would have still looked rockin in board shorts, flip flops and a dark patterned thin loose button down shirt. With the hat.
Truth is if you're lean and young and wrinkleless you can wear anything and the less the better. As you get older people want to see less and less.
At my age and shape i can only show up dressed like henry the 8th in full tudor regalia.


Sounded great and the bass player is the rock n roll icing on the cake.

[Rollin Hand]

You're gonna laugh, but Under Armour makes golf pants (not loud -- they won't drown out your amp) that are designed tk help to keep you cool. Throw on an Under Armour Muscle shirt, or a tank top and a Hawaiian shirt with a hat that breathes, and it should at least help.

Or, if you've got the goods, pull a Slash and go shirtless.

Alternatively, the Chili Peppers tube sock look would eliminate the warm clothing issue entirely. And it will either scare off your stalker, or give her a heart attack.